Mechta, the dream – a poem

Recitations of Beat poetry,
Half rhyme made to work,

Part sung & spoke every

Possible halting way, a dream

Written into the air, rarified.


Mechta, the dream lives, short-

Lived yet enduring a long time,

Paragon of drive, realise, a sign

Of the clouds yet to be caught,

Ensnared & set to work, thus called.


We all need dreams of song,

Even if they aren’t sung,

Voyeuristic vicariousness turned

Into fuel for the solar powered mechta,

Prototype of all archetypes born.


That which is born must ever die,

Né to korosu, the tower sign

Rings, calling all dreams to fly,

To soar, wings spread, eating time,

Mechta explodes, declines…& lives on.


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