I have just been to the Truro City Firework display and I wrote a poem my phone.

The display starts Napleolataen
Mint blooms.
Chinese gallows inline hangs.
A dozen red against the dark.
Cylons scream in spirals.
Sky striping. Bursts High altitude
But not that high in amplitude
Or fortitude or attitude.
Or bulk.
Rapid incandescence.
Aerial Catherin wheels, fantastic!
Purple rain and purple haze.
Flames twist the sky.
Rat a tat tat trajectories.
Nebulous embers and then the sound...
Acoustic like Aphex
Crackling flame fountains
Spiders.
Ghostly smoking sea flowed with increasing entropy.
Glitter glitter... a pause mocks until Cylons return
Firing squad... Pyrotechnic pointalism.
Projectile Pixels haphazardous placed.
And I think of the futility...
In fireworks there is no utility.
The cost in time.
The man in the mine.
To process. The refine.
I saw many Picassos not a week go.
There is none of that here.
This is not an aesthetic aesthetic.
This is all of the gut
and of the eyes
and in my ears.
Pure experience without the raw feel.
Irrational and REAL. HUMAN.
20 mins and done. What fun.