The World Literature Blog: FIVE POEMS BY DOMINIC FRANCIS (UK) INCLUDING ENDORPHIN DOLPHIN

Born on February 13th, 1993, Dominic Francis (Walking Doctor Tonnan) arrived at University, got kicked out after writing an essay about marijuana, jumped off an eighty foot bridge & into a two-month coma, then started to write 'THE INAUGURATION OF INSANITY and sing his poems. He won the Reuel prize for upcoming poet in 2017. His song ‘FLU BLUES’ was featured on a BBC World-Service programme about mental health and music also in 2017. It has been rumoured that Dominic has read over 9 books & can play guitar slightly better than the average person born in 1993. He has been diagnosed with Schizophrenia and Bipolar disorder.

ENDORPHIN DOLPHIN

It wasn’t a shove as such, imagine a beatific push lush beyond human flaw.
She touched me like he wanted to be touched and of this I can’t say much more.
Short of the possibility of God intervening, he’d say there’s no reason to pray.
And she never did believe in meaning, cept’ that you make it up along the way.
But as the sun wakes and the day breaks, the years fall down my cheeks.
“Every atom of that night,” I’d say, “spoke brighter than words can speak, all except for yours… endorphin dolphin of these shores.”

CHEWBACCA

Unfulfilled by pills and indifferent to the illiterate daffodil,
The blues danced with my future’s shoes against my will.
Enough of bruises: I love new music, but I wouldn’t choose it.

I guess I never saw the point, but still I confess after a lucid joint…

Chewbacca metaphysically thrilled me; in fact, Chewbacca literally filled me.
As Summer hummed, I saw him lyrically become her before he killed me.

O, still how it electrified me when she spilt tea and how it chilled me when I learned….

Every burnt sentient willy knows that being serious is a silly goal,
So Chewbacca snuggled it into the hole I dug & my love hugged his soul.
We became the same, as whole as a canary’s dairy under his control.
The deity may be ill today but Chewbacca says he will still pray anyway...

I queried Chewbacca’s theory until weary, but I know only loneliness can kill me.
The devil fears me, the God of Gods hears me, so show me now how you can fill me.
The light taught a blessing, but darkness fought fate though Chewbacca was still me…

Even Cupid can be stupid; I’m not the new kid in terms of love.
But my encounter with Chewbacca confirms the God above.
O no, I’m not the new kid in terms of love; I’m not the new kid in terms of love.
Sometimes I wish I was; sometimes I wish I was; sometimes I wish I was.

Dreaming to the rhythm of jazz & drinking to the sacred blindness of angels,
screaming for the sunken prophecy, hurling the Book of Changes to its resting place,
my therapist tells me that the beginning has ended and it’s time to start again,
my therapist thinks I’m gay so I started hitting on her to complicate the diagnosis,
my therapist doesn’t even exist, but now she’s pregnant and it’s all my fault!
Epiphanies! Confucius! Einstein! What happened to the sin of following?
What happened to the message? What happened to the massacre?
(Where are you Mother? Where are the weepy-eyed relatives that came for you? What happened to the snoring man you slept with occasionally? He’s gone, Mother, you took him with you and now he’s nothing! This is the beginning of the end, Mother, the beginning the of penultimate breakdown! O the Bliss has stolen my innocence and I am ready to undertake the final picnic in heaven!)

I saw me questioning the dark! It surrendered no remark.

The future replays on the bookshelf! And so, I quickly shed my self!

If God works by stealth… oh, how I wonder if dreams are better than truth!

Paradise is always future youth.
EDEN

God forgave wars as atomless senses combined.
Eden itself will be toast if we don’t obey its tethers.
Her form perspires like the weather of my mind.
In tomorrow’s tumult your soles tread on forevers.
Beaches burn, leeches to bleach, a cyclical repeat.
But conquests complete, I convalesce at her feet.

Saved by her sacred touch, naked we were a geek.
She blossomed like two-lips and I ate it on the loo.
Enslaved by double Dutch, hatred too has mystique.
I’ll give you true love: I used to live for torture too.
Past the dance of chance’s maker, I cast my shadow.
The truth is that hate prevails where love is shallow.

Somehow it feels like it happened to another again.
She mutters & I stutter like the advent of consent.
Why beat about the bush? She pushed me at ten to five.
I remember the weep-love of my first & last ascent.
Armies of adolescents jump into a secret forest.
And bands of ink pelicans tell fables on your wrist.

Inside the ride resides a bride who claims to be famous.
She dances to the Temptations so aimless and shameless.
Your eyes are tied to the bribe, but you remain blameless.
During the snide depths of ecstasy, she'll become nameless.
Past the rain dance of the maker, demons blast their scores.
But you've got to love her in your own way for she is yours.

I've won that which hasn't stayed; I've lost what I haven't given away.
I prefer milkshakes to jewels anyway, but Eden's grace reigns true as cliché.
Today the boss is dressed in a suit of grey, Marvin Gaye glasses & a Bombay beret.
I hear him say in the hallway at the buffet that we too must stay for the cabaret.
But a concluding sense of circularity is pure at the conception of his remarks.
& backwards we dart into the mirror's art, heralded by a dog's heaven-sent barks.

STEEPLED SEQUELS

Your movements were married to the most mystical of Mayan music. I plummeted into your groove which proved fiercely human. Our pounding hearts started to make our first date seem so stupid. I felt like Bonaparte when I emailed you my art, but it bounced straight back to Cupid…

I’m very lonely, love
You are my only love
This is no phony bluff
But enough of the crony stuff
So I’ll say this: fuck me.

When we were eighteen, you said chewing gum is a therapeutic costume. Your breath of breakfast bread became a bitter treat, a shitter perfume. I can picture us now shooting up to talk to God in God’s room. You’re my first favourite future since I fell in love in the womb…

I’m very lonely, love
You are my only love
This is no phony bluff
But enough of the crony stuff
So I’ll say this: fuck me!

I saw steepled sequels in your body’s versed trance. I know I knew what I’d never known before just at first glance. In some ways (on Sundays) it’s fun to die in advance. I swear you’d show me nowhere! We’d go there to dance!

Your photograph eyes, my amphetamine we heart it!
It’s no surprise that we laughed as parted!

You are my homey, love.
You really stone me, love.
You know me, you show me love.
This baloney isn’t holy enough…
So I’ll say this: haha! Fuck it!

WHEN THE PERUVIAN POET

I greet morning as passionately as I meet Sleep.
Holy cow! How sweet the clouds weep on the street.
A bizarre art now powers my leaping guitar’s flower.
How far are we from the end at the start of every hour?

When the Peruvian poet paints her paradise in Perth,
They say we'll find out how much money is really worth.
There will be harmony for all spirits on this earth at birth!

Drunk on dreams it seems the punk scene is bereft in turquoise.

Courage’s a generous nomad and she’s loyal as rain to her boys.

She told me she told you I told you how life is beautiful.

But I told you it’s a musical enhanced by pharmaceuticals.

When the Peruvian poet paints her paradise in Perth,
They say we'll find out how much money is really worth.
There will be harmony for all spirits on this earth at birth!

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