Cliches tend to hold a truth.
Truth being the circle you choose to let loose
with on sparse occasions, once or twice a year
where the brake gear’s released
to strobe lights, cheers and tears
of euphoria
and life affirming waves
across warehouse spaces
with bonds you’ll take to the grave.
Cuddles, claps and shuffles
soundtrack rants and confessions of love.
Overwhelming crowds of people are overcome
with trusted shoulders, hands and hugs.
We double-locked our doors late morning.
Jitters fluttered around from gut to chest.
At moments it felt we were heading for battle
with the city’s very best.
But passed the front line, it’s a war of peace.
Randoms united to the sonics, the beats.
Deep conversation, away from the nine to five;
a moment of surrender and salvation,
a moment to feel alive.
Puzzle pieces of memory spark spikes of joy
back in the routine, back walking the line.
Life’s formalities, life’s templates
are easier to follow, easier to own
when you have a second family
in the rave, out of home.
From the cluster of scribbles DISPATCH19