#stanzas

An azure gem in South Pacific blue, A paradise concealed from public view. Where Wright’s organic lines meet high frontier, And International Rescue engineers the year.

The villa clings to raw volcanic stone, A subterranean, brutalist haven zone. With cantilevered platforms, open floors, That seamlessly erase the glass-walled doors.

Beneath the lounge where the palm trees sway, The kinetic marvels are hidden away. Where mid-century luxury, sleek and low, Masks the massive nuclear depths below.

The pool slides back with a smooth, silent grace, So Thunderbird 1 can shoot into space. The runway tilts and palm trees recline, A flawless marriage of function and line.

No neon flashes, no cluttered display, Just clean, modern lines in shades of cool grey. A tropical fortress of retro-cool pride, Where high-fashion living has rocket power inside.

To children watching from a screen of old, This secret world of science turned to gold. Beyond the cramped, suburban brick and lace, It opened up a thrilling, space-age place.

Each ordinary chair or painted wall Became a lever to a hangar hall. The mundane objects in a living room Transformed to triggers for a rocket boom.

They saw the jet-set style and raw machine Combine into the playground of their dreams. With papier-mâché and cardboard boxes made, The blueprint for a generation played.

"Five, Four, Three, Two, One!" the countdown clears, As Barry Gray’s brass anthem fills their ears. Through wires unseen, the puppets walk with pride, But it’s the massive scale that lives inside. For Meddings’ rolling skies and chemical fire Lifted a childhood’s dreams a whole lot higher. An Anderson creation, bold and bright: "Stand by for action!" in the neon night.

If you had to save yourself

For wanderings wide than wisdom;

It is better than wealth | on unknown ways,

And in grief a refuge it gives.

Injecting the wall is not a troll, if you roll with the ball when they call the wax doll things get dull and the goal is to fall down the hall if at all.

Cause we lol the whole mall. We go all into the poll that they sold, cause we're told don't stand tall and pay the toll, or we'll throw you into the row.

We get away from their lousy train, cause we hate disdain if it's in vain. Will they miss their aim when they smash their brain, and hit us with the whole crane .

Brains go out the drain. You can see it all unstained cause it's washed by the rain, but can see the frames in flames losing all fame, and tamed by James.

In the gentle glow of the light of day,

She finds herself lost in a poetic sway.

Does it dance on his grin, so pure and bright,

Or on her cheeks, kissed by golden light?

Daylight whispers secrets, oh so sweet,

As she ponders where its rays discreet.

In her laughter's cadence, in smiles so fine,

Or the twinkle in her gaze, like stars align.

But alas, as the daylight fades away,

Taking with it her joy, in sad dismay.

No more shall she compare, no longer yearn,

For she rests in peace, where sunbeams no longer turn.

In the quiet stillness, she finds her repose,

No more to ponder where daylight flows.

For in her memory, forever it shall stay,

The light of day, in its eternal sway.