A Blind Man Sayeth To A Shrew

… Now don't ask me how Our hearts came by valour Yes, I too will disavow That you or I ever knew. That we'd wade with the marabou! Through, flower openings velour. Though at times, I couldn't see hitherto I didn't need to peekaboo anymore. … Now don't ask me how Love is always in plain view … Now don't ask me how … A blind man said to a shrew. Or else I'll disavow… Like you, my teeth wear-down And I too will drop dead If, startled by a sudden, loud, sound. .. Book title "Prayer Bells" Tomorrows-not-one Beautifully & Dutifully Bound I've Frozen Time & Space All that matters is now Attic room Little flower Be Like the Wind Ever Watchful An Ode to spring Black Tulips A Gentleman's Question A Hornet on the Wing Injustice Exotic flowers unfurl I'll Pray You Never Run Away Apathy Any More than the Moons Aglow Hopping A Thought Is an Idea in Transit (Pythagoras Quote) Tinderbox Rose petals at my feet A Hornet on the Wing That First Unsullied Snowdrop Kissed by a butterfly's wing Consider you are a tree The Family Tree Raspberry Canes The lovers fall Have We Lingered In Their Attic Floors? Any More than the Moons Aglow The Tree Brides And Be Worth So Much More than Gold Who'll Fall Headlong First? While here Braid Your Hair with His The Wind to Be My Publisher When winter does wrestle death Yellow On Purple Prayer bells Healing Properties After Global Peace The lovers-root is a white-flower See His Ceiling When it shines Night of the Coffin Fly Restrain me Honeypot of gold Drunk with love Just Imagine Elven child (fantasy poem) Snowdrops Fine Silk Spun With Gold Just Imagine On The Wings of Love Wishing the weather was fair The Journal of the dead The Whisper of the Muse Let me burn A Common Brother A Creaking Blue Door We're as a candle's flame Stick or Bust Has the moon found her rose? God will save us all Everything Her work Last visit & conversion The Rose and the Bumble Bee Mother-nature Bolshoi Dancers Bubble Gum Pavements Colossal Choices The journey home Without you Confession The first whack of light Cot Death Could You Image Just One Navajo Indian Tribe? Did It Prevent Your Sun Kissed Dreams? 'Nothing like White Roses' Every Second an Eternity Prolongs When rivers run cold Sleeping with the doves in paradise (song) Nefertiti Semisweet The Taste of Cyanide Barbarity all around me Joy jumps heart to heart In prayer did I hear a hum? What do you want with me? A Moment of Truth How can I With a song delicate Top Hat & Tails Redemption Roses are on fire Bittersweet Mrs Robinson The carpenter's hands Poetry in motion Unconditional Love I see it's a journey just to hang around My daily prayer Baboons Bridges We Can Admire The world is corrupt Rough sleeping The white elephant New Year, Starting From Tonight Life Is What? My garden was a roadside paradise Tomorrows-not-one Tomorrows-not-one When blue skies a vision of despair? When a sense of anguish fills the air Clouds gather in from everywhere Colliding with us they ensnare- Thunder bursts, rain falls lashing down Dulls each heart, tilts each heavy crown, That commands the sea, the weather As King Canute, would his pleasure. Frail in eternal laws are we None, above the life of a flea: That humblest of beasts, are we not If, I recognize-my-own-lot. Now look the skies vault opens new We see azure the cloudless blue A reminder someone other Reigns in things we've set asunder. We see a weary turtle dove Returned with cooing words of love So don't despair the weather's fair- Tomorrows-not-one, cloud in the air. Beautifully & Dutifully Bound Gods an atlas book, beautifully & dutifully bound But beware before you make your own, journey There are no pages covered within it to be, found. Covertly you are the story not yet been written You are the darkness flooded by a lit clerestory Choir of light the voice; that isn't any, one man's religion. That's your northern star your difficult course to sail Remember some books require patients to prevail And a good lot of working senses to follow braille. I've Frozen Time & Space Fleeting as an ocean wave; Once, surge waters knocked us both for six. "I know And it is as if only yesterday for me I held your hand in mine, a lifetime ago. Still, it holds at its highest peak". It doesn't reach the shoreline or turn tail & run, Someplace inside of me, quite, unique I've frozen time & space; honestly, it doesn't succumb, Never, do I forget how clear Our waters coursed through our veins. Never, do I forget the oceans I'd bleed For you, nothing ever in me wax or wanes It's as if some drop of crystal-water still holds true As if love is part & parcel of every-soul For even if it turns cloudy or murky, I know I too want to evaporate & sprawl & perspire once more flawless over you Like dawns first ever drifts of morning dew. All that matters is now Moments come and go All that matters is now Fleeting as aeons ago A glance exchanged Swift melting as snow What has changed? A first kiss is memorable But nothing is eternal Nothing except these passing's Of each other's love, more than needful. More than wishful More than baptismal Death is never deceitful Moments come and go All that matters is now. Attic room Through a narrow doorway turning left I was, dumped placed in the attic room The linen white was crisp pressed And a crucified Christ hung bereft Silver dappled draped a shining moon How-clear I still remember the sorrow Of that little attic room, within me It's darkness like a shining barrow Gloom, waiting to be lifted, freed esprit. Little flower Your designated time a brief hardship a journey Without tears clouding your eyes; devout devotion Like a little paper boat, you sail unworthy, Taking in bilge waters filled with high emotion. Come, kneel in total submission. A willing bride Your journey is a lifetimes undertaking Your heart motes a keep only one Lord can reside. His residence sits lest not I'm mistaking In the centre of your heart the vortex of your soul You must, by all means, flail out the wheat from the chaff It's a vow of faith to make, thyself, whole To undertake this journey ends all hatred and wrath. O my little flower your quest to be a nun, Is a heroine's noble deed that requires faith? Every battle has two outcomes, lost or won Love enslaves and, in true love, there is only praise. Be Like the Wind Ever Watchful Outside the wind inhales its own, enormous voice But inside it's quiet, a needy crummy little mouse Bravely it lingers watchful at the window-door It's self an ever-expanding universe a metaphor Hurling both rain and snowflake with an icy raw The wind an unbalanced creature on falcon's claw You feel his bewilderment of flightless strength You're a chasm he enters in a lonely wavelength Be like the wind ever watchful at the window-door Be as the ever-expanding universe forever more. An Ode To Spring Look how the gardener hates those weeds As soon as the Wren makes her move to nest It's then his squeaky wheelbarrow impedes With the forked-out; green Medusa's headdress. But look here in the meadow of idle hands, A yellow chaffinch and a cluster of bluebells By tall oaks here Primrose edge of woodlands. Clouds pass-over in shade of dappled pastels. Cosy silence is broken; by half-a-dozen Ravens In the Horse chestnuts waving ship like masks Spring opens a drying pine-cone as lupines Purple like spruce trees opens flowery Basques. Glistening fishes, abdomens are swollen like a pear. At first taste of spring a sheet web spider? Makes her own, perennial hammocks snare— To sew-up spring her first petal winged fibres. Here to a brown hare crouches dying in numbers Once a common sight, running at 35 mph— In male, dominance but now on one's uppers Their circles of competition to attain - plagued. Sorry I couldn't make it more cheerful But that is the nature of nature after all. Black Tulips Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold They warm my heart from the bitter cold. On bending stems they curtsy on the wind Bob on the air, like sunlight, been pinned. In frozen earth crossways hatched at night They weep - close - fall asleep till daylight. Black tulips, tulips red, tulips gold They warm my heart from the bitter cold. I wish I were a snowdrop an astronaut. Above the clouds but I'm not, I'm an ink blot. A Gentleman's Question I have a gentleman's question I have questions - lots, how did it go, I'd inform you, but I only had, Have these very few moments which to sow. Okay, then dear chap, dear man Make it swift then, write me a poem, If only I had time, I'd give you My words opening, prelude in rhyme. Don't tease us, sir, with mystical silence That just will not do, conform Confess we want precise details And the measure of her underclothing dress. A Hornet On The Wing God, would catch a hornet on the wing, Relish infinite-beauty, not its sting Beauty that is such, I cannot-truly-say, From now on, words have no meaning From this day forward to any other day 'Should I love you, well that's not a question At any junction, He wouldn't entertain'. Your petals are like-a-rose not quite formed But neither are you, to me outperformed. Injustice We paint injustice like a Crayola sunset but His love isn't child's play. Exotic flowers unfurl Let only one be your centrepiece & the others, Let them brocade your world Swim in your dreams Like sirens to remind you, That a wayward sailor often drowns Torso on fire—doused I have picked one jewel One gem, I was meant to receive & it was purely instinctual Not anything to misconceive I plucked her wings, there & then Held her steadfast against my skin After tonight the world Shall never be the same again. I'll Pray You Never Run Away A song with a story, not just jingles I go with the moonbeams The stars in the dark Aqua blue is the air that filters through Where first I took, a hold of you Fevers broke on my brow If you love me, let me know now. Here I felt your glow With the moonbeams in the dark Here I'll park my heart Under a street lamp in the dark With a song a story, not just jingles I'll light your way home So you're never alone. If you love me let me know Fevers will break on the light of day If you just kiss me at this hour of the dark I'll pray for Aqua blue air every day I walk in the moonbeams Real slowly, I'll pray you never-run-away Without our story, not just jingles with bells on your toes. Apathy I'm losing the will to live At important times to fight To put this world to rights Cause it so not right …living on despite Others, plight. But because I'm No giant of strength might. I don't want to pick a fight I'm a lightweight That's me alright So, I'll just say now Goodnight. Any More than the Moons Aglow There are fairies in the light In that glowing bulb so bright Resin trunks - amber lockets Wound around a ring of spirits. Who goes there in the wilderness? Shaking snow, laden with deftness. Is she an angel—I don't know? Any more than the moon's soft glow Who goes there in the shadows? Winking, when all I do is frown Oh, there's a seraph in the moonlight. Owl-wing-flutters drown my soul tonight. Hopping Hoping my tears regroup and create an oasis I'm going out of my mind, but I sense a change Hoping the dawn will have a new warm embrace Hoping every cloud will dissipate And tree like vines of love Take hold and root me to one spot Hoping my dreams that sped away come back to stay. And all the smog of confusion clears And those painful yesterday's turn to happier yesteryears And I grow old with someone worth living with every day. A Thought Is an Idea in Transit (Pythagoras Quote) The world is living memory without thought Music has an unlimited number of percussions For us, there are all manner of repercussions Precursors that like birdsong changes, and Resonates into all spheres all individualities Therein it attracts expands and contracts So it is we ask of our infant minds, why Why does Pythagoras not answer us? Why didn't abacus calculate this for us? Dark matter, energy, matter our solid matter. Why does it, only amount to a measly 4%? I guess that's why the god particle, was sent. It obliterates and yet it now unmeasurably Creates expands its music across the universe Its true gravity is thought to be infinite It is a singularity that began as a single note. It sang the first OM, OM… OM… If music be the food of love, play on. Tinderbox I just want to be the fire That ignites and burns free Whatever ills avail me I don't desire to change I just want to be myself Less the mask I project Less the chains that bind Less these bars that confine Or any self-righteous intellect I just want to be the ignition; That first lit spark of who I am Who I really, am Yes, there's a tinderbox Inside of you and me There's a spark a star eternal That hasn't been, consumed And this fire, I want to unleash To one day devour you. Rose petals at my feet Rose petals at my feet look destitute They're strewn all around my front garden path They swirl like clouds trying to reconstitute It pangs my heart that in their aftermath Once again this summer draws to an end. And my own, "Damask Rose", I gave my heart Didn't open, wasn't for a minute my friend. Rose petals at my feet will now depart & winter shall arrive with snow & sleet Spring & summer will come, never again. Love deprived I shouldn't settle for conceit Remembering a once, glowing, warm gem. Rose petals at my feet foretell our end No longer in this rose can I pretend? A Hornet on the Wing God, he would catch a hornet on the wing, Relish infinite beauty, not its sting. Your-beauty is such, I cannot-truly-say, Words have no meaning this or any other day. 'Should I love you, well that's not a question He would entertain at any junction'. Your petals are like-a-rose not quite formed But neither are you, to me outperformed. That First Unsullied Snowdrop Love, what flower do you most aspire? Love, what flower should I most admire? Red peonies with lustful, conduit, desire Purple crocuses cupped with fire Or the now, pink foreign, ragged robin, Breathless; rolling on a country, common. I'm like a sprig of green Solomon's seal You're like a single rosebud, so, genteel. Love, what flower should I most aspires? Love, what flower do you utmost require? Be it the foxgloves fleshy advancing spire Or the honeysuckles tendrils of wire. Be you, simply May time's forget-me-not … Better still that first unsullied snowdrop. Kissed by a butterfly's wing In such a way it should be contraband Her heart & soul fluttered heavenly south, As a butterfly's wing kissed her hand & then her cheek, & then her open, mouth Taking little bites & long drawn out sips It was then all she could do to resist. Like a fallen nest exposed, her own, lips She then coiled around him like moonlit mist Where she pressed firmly against his naked chest He squirmed inside an outward-flowing-tide. All inhabitations now dispossessed He hears her heart crackling electrified Hearing hallelujahs then, then amen! He presses forward & kisses her once again. Consider you are a tree When a tree is, grown you have to decide it's purpose its size and more besides Do you want dappled shade do you want flowers do you want tremulous movement do you want upward Powers Or swaying in the breeze consider you are a tree what do you wish to be a thorn or a tulip tree. The Family Tree Old men cling to their gnarl-wooden sticks And wither from the cares of the world over Like apple blossom kissed silver with icy cold licks They know there are no more days of clover But from their flowering came the fruit The seed of wane-blown family From their branching water-shoot A core of all that's good and Bramley So remember dearly, remember clearly The canker of their clay sincerely Since they still warm us ever so dearly With their glowing embers. And sweeten our childhood, Septembers Long into their autumnal Novembers. Raspberry Canes In and out the raspberry canes 'On a jack frost, bitten day With nothing more than twine, and knife To earn my daily' pay. Bending back the line of whips! From: 'Lands-End to John o' Groats' These willowy viaduct sticks …Seemingly it will never end. In and out the raspberry canes 'With nothing burning on my mind: I accept the numbing' hail and rain. And the wisps of empty time Bending, back the line of whips: Beneath a solemn; grey stone-sky. Under the derogatory east-wind A hells purgatory cry From: 'Lands-End to John o' Groats' …Seemingly it will, never-end: The lovers fall I am the leaves of a tree I am an aspen whispering to you Because I've nothing better to do I spread my gold dappled leafs over you And take root under you, and ask you Are you the sun, are you the sky? Are you the ocean, are you the moon? Because I've been searching for you I've spread my leaves to the four winds And, found my resting place beside you. Have We Lingered In Their Attic Floors? On hearts of angels have we trod? Heavier sorrows than the weight-of-sod Have we lingered in their attic floors? To glimpse, hear, behind their doors. The sound of the vesper-bells upon their toes Have we glued our hearts decomposed? Sifted through shadows only He knows Still yet find ourselves, juxtapose. Any learning a uniform wind commands. Oh, such a bounty is in store pre-tax If we can exert a torque force of love Might we discover the wings of a dove? Any More than the Moons Aglow There are fairies in the light In that glowing bulb so bright Resin trunks - amber lockets Wound around a ring of spirits. Who goes there in the wilderness? Shaking snow, laden with deftness. Is she an angel—I don't know? Any more than the moon's soft glow. Who goes there in the shadows? Winking, when all I do is frown Oh, there's a seraph in the moonlight. Owl-wing-flutters drown my soul tonight. The Tree Brides Of course, a tree has rings Each one, a wedding, band Oh, to be the 'bride' of such a tree To bask in His emerald love unendingly Minus all other pining - cordialities. But just a litany of birdsong Oh, wouldn't that be truly heavenly Wear plain sky, as a wedding sarong Miracle in the dark It's like a miracle in the dark That sardines chase the light It's like a miracle in the dark That squid rises up the moonlight. It's like a miracle in the dark That fireflies signal, intermittent It's like a miracle in the dark That bats are honing their skills cogent. It's like a miracle in the dark That golden orb-weaver spider It's like a miracle in the dark In that world of nocturnal, cat caper. It's like a miracle in the dark That an owl calls to wild owl It's like a miracle in the dark Meeting your sweetheart; in her cowl. And Be Worth So Much More than Gold Every story generates lies and tall tales Distorting mirrors sadly, ruin lives. It is better to be independent of any fictions Find those sieves within yourself That filters out fool's gold and reaches the core. And whatever's left must be real And be worth so much more than gold. Who'll Fall Headlong First? In their throes of love, a tree rocks Back and forth, roots near uplifted Hold tight; a fear a paradox- Comes to them, all subsidised. They are like two forests embracing Second, guessing the changing wind Who'll fall headlong first? Heart racing Will forever be intertwined? The other will be entangled By a Virginia creeping vine— It will turn from a wild spangled- Green; to something a lot more sublime. Their love shall carpet the ground Spread scarlet waves across the sky The horizon shall look tie-dyed Rose dimpled like a rainbow trout. In their throes of love the world shakes Down the blossom on budding bough It opens secret hearts endow With gifts therein all time forsakes. While here While here run through tall meadows While here smell the scent of flowers While here feel the beat of a bird's wing While here touch the tingling snows While here gaze up at the moon While here sit in the arms of a tree While here count at midnight the stars And thank yours, mine are still ours. Braid Your Hair with His God - has many names, But "Love" is the one that counts Most aptly "Love is"… "Love" "Just Love" only, one word Like…"God" isn't it? God - has so many names Each acts as a veil But "Love" is, "Love" only. So braid your hair with His Embrace, lock fingers with His. His is a tree twining roots His is the first branch you perch on His is trees-bough at your centre Your hearts bead is a locket of amber "The trees name" is "Love. The Wind to Be My Publisher Let the wind be my publisher Let it make dulcimer music Let it circle the globe, Turn over the page & Engage! Fill your earlobes with beauty, & when finally it's closing in On its final - chorus final chapter. On the last concluding, word & hour Let it be, heard God said amen! Thanks to my little birdsong, songbird, Come with me & let us be Let us be, eternally good friends Hark! Now listen to the foolish wind How your music transcends and suspends. Yellow On Purple Sitting here in the casement window of my soul In two minds 'dancing in a theatre of dreams' 'Yellow on purple', I dream of you Ah the Himalayas was cumulated in such a conflict Where parallel thoughts like parallel bars did collide Where white prayer flags, suspended above 20,000 ft. Gymnastically awaited the arrival of something heavenly, Oh, I feel like an eagle flying over the Lions Gate Bridge Stanley Park Vancouver, closing my eyes kissing your lips. When winter does wrestle death When winter does wrestle death Snow lies falling with petals bereft Her mantles a meadow, white lily Uprooting stars, in heavens pity. Fine, veils of silk they're spun to order Wheeling moths—circle and flutter Then Ferris wheel across the border. Our souls are curdled, in God's butter When winter does wrestle death No heart will beat in shadows bereft The feeble will draw a second breath When winsome-winter wrestles death The old cudgelled wings, given new Give wave their goodbyes, at us adieu. Prayer bells It's a topsy-turvy world but don't be fooled or confused Everything will be unfurled and again suitably-fused. There will be prayer bells spun across the Himalayas They shall pitch, fecund at some higher alertness. … You'll sense all living things have a tone of fulfilment You'll walk in a labyrinth there find endless devilment. That everything that's known still goes unrecognised Like reflections clone, more in ways crystallised. Healing Properties She awoke the Vespers of that noon Rang alarm bells longing to be attuned She moved like sand-dunes in the starlit night Ran through my fingers jealously guarded her skin was the colour of dolomite Pinkish marble a crystal regarded To own healing properties within it I marvelled her quiet tranquillity How she captivated me to submit My heart, my soul with such futility. After Global Peace 'After global peace, what next, will follow? ' Course there'll be no apathy or gluttony, 'Course not, ' you won't beg, steal or borrow. There'll be no infighting even for survival Love will follow love and topple all evil. Imprisoned poets, will sing of joy and life And return home to unknown foreign lands There'll be no more murder on the 10 o'clock news. Soon soldiers will down, their barbaric tools Stop listening to governmental patriarchal fools. 'And write about how even they too were used.' Course there'll be no hunger or indifference We shall all be—bothers & sisters There'll be no envy or lust, no avarice Growing rice; living in harmony, this could be, nice. 'After global peace, what next will follow? ' Well, we shall all live like Easter Islanders With big heads, and practice slash-and-burn. 'Pretty shortly, won't we run out of resources? ' Yes, but like so many, before us, we‘ll set sail for the sun. Put all our faiths on a straw-raft as did our forefathers. Kon-Tiki man, and look for the Promised Land. 'I beg your pardon, but hasn't that ocean, been mapped.' You Sir! You have no faith. Look at our giant statues Hollow-eyed, gaunt faces, didn't their ancestors survive The lovers-root is a white-flower The month does but shiver with joy, With the tears of a snow-drop, Little-bells, buoyant, green and cloy, Ringing, beyond the hilltop. The lovers-root is a white-flower On Valentine's Day Thus it performs both sweet and sour Piercing the walls of shy Cathay. Kisses: mingle, like wild woodbines As brown; blue jays' mêlée in the eaves They're limbs, entwined, like vines Need only, the wind, which now cleaves. Violets stir in that amethyst snap! She's my oracle, hears my lover—sings And awakens from her frozen nap A mortal being, with wings. See His Ceiling See His ceiling lit with many a mirrored star See the lamps that glimmering is, truly ours Then alchemises, these cherished hearts Into moments, minutes, & hours Then alchemises what love eternal is yours What radiance shone meteoric ashore? What pull has turned a melancholic tide? And harboured so many a soul & mind Through a seismic, storm Brimful of a universe without impudent pride Know your place is a golden elixir by His side. When it shines When the sun shines It shines through you I am molten rock in love What more can I do? I am, moved, and I am Quenched in your sea I am a frozen lamb, What more would you have me be? Let us feel a tendril vine As it grows, as it trembles As it climbs, as it flowers As its seeds, get dispersed Let us sense and remember Our petals gave rise to sunsets Gave rise to births and deaths And when it shines It does so for you. Night of the Coffin Fly Is this, the night of the 'coffin fly? ' That will riddle down 6ft under Deeper than deep In short bursts of running Jerky, movements in a midnight flurry No, it's another gun wheedling madman A 'scuttle fly' with a machine gun. Scum of the EARTH! ! ! Bringing mayhem to a nation in turmoil, crying —And why, why, why And why, why, why And why, why, why Their parents ask Their partners ask The headlines ask The people ask But their politicians never answer It goes, deeper— Deeper than deep And 6ft under; the night of the 'coffin fly? ' Restrain me Restrain me because I want to bathe in your sun I want a southern moon to shiver on you From the naked shadows, I cast over you Restrain me I'm like an applecart toppled over Soon, I will be showing you the core of my heart How I've longed to touch you in the dark And trace the horizon that lights up in your eyes Restrain me because I want to bathe in your sun I want only for you, I hunger-for-you There is no other star shines brighter than you. Honeypot of gold Oh, lucky, lucky me I climbed a maple tree And, found a sacred bee Making honey; just for me. Omnipotent and gold breaking free of shadow Supreme Being you are an eternal summer star You light the way that I and others must follow That I and that lonelier moon with her guitar Will shadow, Supreme Being with a golden-sitar You light the way, and all is, bathed in ash and fire Ah, oceans, rise, rise, rise, rise and, I am, baptised. Supreme Being your warmth is a deep, deep magnifier You light the way so that others feel galvanised Just by your touch, more, and more humanised. Oh, lucky, lucky me I climbed a maple tree And, found a sacred bee Making honey; just for me. Drunk with love If I covertly look into your eyes I see before me my destiny. Clearly See my both hands resting on your warm thighs See our two lips kissing feverishly. Believe me, our fortunes they're intertwined If I look unwaveringly at you I know our stars are forever aligned So just for tonight, I bid you adieu. But I might come back only to go blind. And take what I know inside to be mine There isn't a soul hasn't been maligned. But you're my one and only Valentine I wouldn't permit one bad sullied, word Even if I, myself right now sound slurred. Just Imagine Just imagine you didn't have long to live What would you give to live that bit longer? Just ponder, don't meander into overdrive Strive to answer like a cataloguer What you've somehow have lost & forgot Like the key to your house - standing outside Take a long look to find, access & plot Away back in, don't look mystified. Your life's just a short story, chapter & verse There's nothing to rehearse, acceptance Isn't a curse; roll over a new stone, nurse- Your old wounds & fight - be impetuous Just imagine life is a wave returned- To life & nothing's ever adjourned. Elven child (fantasy poem) Elven child, my hearts a toadstool but do sit on it awhile Then goes climb another country stile and run a country mile. Elven child, I've paid my penance; I'm only a human being, Look go battle an orc, and leave me to my silly dreaming. Elven child, why do you smile and grin at me this way, be off Go, gather fresh spider webs and embroider them into cloth. Elven child, why are you such an irritant, little nuisance You know I need to take my bath and enjoy, my ablutions. Elven child, am I going mad this worlds full of deceptions Stay awhile elven child, help me with my misconceptions. Snowdrops Can it be winter is leaving Such loveliness is joyous Their greenery is beauteous Their charm is undeceiving. Snowdrops are pushing up Last year's magnolia leaves Making little brown teepee's I can almost hear their blood. I can almost hear a choir Of archangels singing While briar woods are sleeping Their flowers are an appetiser. But how their memory lingers How those green and white Bells so static, still excite Icy chilblain, fingers. Fine Silk Spun With Gold Folded moth wings placed together in prayer Open to discover the moon and starlit air In madness flap circle my heart— And like a curtain, take little bites at my soul. But what can they discover - there! My heart isn't threaded spun with gold. And my soul isn't made of fine-silk I'm just as the moon lost in this black ink. With folded hands at night, I am, locked in sleep. I dream and pray to fly away Indeed there are no limits to the madness I seek. 'I even have the freedom to fly'. 'In madness flap circle the light in a distant sky. My prayers are never more of spoken As I draw back a curtain, which reveals a fine-silk'. Spun with gold in madness, desires even my soul On The Wings of Love Mayfly if ever an angel - be It was you and me Pirouetting in the air so free Above a cobweb lea If ever a child had azure blue wings As blue as a periwinkle sky Then sweet tenderfoot, swimming It must have been you and, I Down amongst the meadows Where the green woods-wend Down amongst the willows Where the reeds draught an end: There I came a dancing A roving like a bee With honeydew brown eyes By a river; like the river Spree. Soft as ephemeral moonlight You took wing with me Oh mayfly green and tender bright True angels once were we. Wishing the weather was fair I wanted to see you flourish And bloom all season long In waves of orange blossom, Nurtured and fully, nourished. I didn't wish to confine you I wanted you to roam… Like fresh wild thyme, imbue That scent in this hearts cobblestone. I chose you like a flower For a buttonhole Love, you were the one flower I chose for my soul. I wanted us to grow old unruffled By whatever winter- Throws our way, untroubled But Love's a different picture. Like a rose have its brambles We too have our faults We are loving companions That has some thunderbolts. But we both tend our garden And water it with care There are times we become harden Wishing the weather was fair. But I'm settled for when they are Resided for when they're not And count you my lucky star You're the winner in my plot. The Journal of the dead The Journal of the dead what would it read Today we eat dust and, walked on duckweed Tonight we all partied and waltzed through walls Disturbing the living; with white overalls. Tomorrow truly who knows what that'll bring? Floorboards' squeaking a baby is mewling, Graveyard was, crowded so I went for a walk And, then flew alongside a sparrow-hawk. It soared up over an ancient coppice Felled once a decade to warm some goddess Her flesh without fire, cold as a river That flows from a mountain through a fissure. The Journal of the dead what would it read Today Jesus blessed me with good old mead. I joined the flock pursued by a collie… Ambling like a lamb lost in the valley. Closing this book I now too must here go… Say Amen and rest, like fresh winter snow Putting down, pen, my own Journal is done The last page is torn goodbye, everyone. The Whisper of the Muse With his violin bow in hand, the man plays Then stops, listens to his whispering muse. Where others were entranced, he breaks and weighs. His face solemn in thought; much less enthuse Resembling a wilting flower head drooped For the world looks a man who has been, duped. He's old, and he has passed this way before, He knows off by heart, the music his soul- Has sealed inside, and like green Hellebore In winter time, his head will rise and roll And the blood of Christ, a clap of thunder Makes all bolt up straight in awe, and wonder. Let me burn Beneath the tree of God I am not sinful or sinless But if doomed I am to die. Can I borrow your lips? Your heart and your smile Taste the fruit of good and evil And know all there is to know About ripe plums their stones. Beneath this tree of God If I am condemned to know Only this flesh, live in this flame We call a body that dances Leaps headlong for another Let me burn at a steady rate And in your arms my love, Slowly, ever slowly disintegrate. A Common Brother Red squirrel your grey brother Has more earthly power Then you; in all your frivolous fire He does wrinkle out the lower Where you have climbed the higher And this has made the difference To the bane star of his eye Where you; my red brother Eat your last supper and die. A Creaking Blue Door I recall a lake, waters emerald Sunlight glinting, and in every corner A school of fish, I'd sit like Tom Sawyer I'd watch pine trees swaying tall & pencilled. I'd see fat carp in groups of three & four Move with the ease of summer clouds that had Now become unaccustomed to downpours— And recall the old fishing hut, table plaid. It's lime green, boards & a creaking blue door I recall kingfishers darting, side by side How they would plunge & then suddenly soar I was in [heaven] till insecticides From a crop, sprayer flew over, killing Of all the fish, which meant no revenue. The fishing hut got hauled down, a clearing- Made, trees felled like some God had gone achoo! A heartbreak evident in daylight Gloomily that's how I recall this place Squat lakeside like being graveside A feeling all [heaven] had been, defaced. We're as a candle's flame Your soul is a key jammed in a lock You cannot force forwards or back Right or left; all you can do now is wait. Wait long enough you'll come to see Understand there isn't any door or lock. The ocean of life retains, not the vessel That floats and drifts, endless upon it. That's a vapour you cannot contain, The sun is an all-consuming fire it exists In humble beginnings as also an end. It lives without life, therefore, coexists yet Because it only requires waxed wicks to burn. We're a candle's flame; we're not the candle We burn to our extinguished ends To be ignited by this life - once again. Stick or Bust I married my heart to you I pinned it to the wall You can crush it like a flower. Cos the way I'm feeling It now doesn't, really matter It was freely, given And yours equally You didn't have to barter I gave you, it willingly at cost Hoping you would make The most of it, and you did. Now it's stick or bust Or do you twist, And have I lost? God will save us all God will save us for sure No need to worry, final! Child, do not live in denial God will save us for sure. God will save us for sure He'll open up a portal Tell us we're no longer mortal God will save us for sure. God will save us for sure I hear we're nearing his call He delivers us from evil God will save us for sure. God will save us for sure Just leave a light on Just leave an open door God will save us for sure. God will save us for sure Listen, I hear his arrival Nothing to fear or be frightful of God will save us for sure. God will save us for sure Even-handed one and all The meek & mild & them, that's wild God will save us all. Everything Baby don't be afraid of black ghosts The angels are always near, close Just open your eyes don't be, afraid Let them open to the sunlit skies To the stars that sink into your soul. Baby soak up the moonbeams Of this life, life is your parade Don't let those monsters enter your skin Open your heart to love And send them black ghost packing. Because you, we are strong When it's midnight, that's the time To show you have faith in all you know And make a stand and make love Love to all the sadness darkness That hides and sinks in quicksand. Stand proud and firm, wipe away your tears Baby don't be afraid of black ghosts You know who you are And you are everything if you're willing to be saved. And baby don't harbour hate Garden faith in a better tomorrow And grow, let all those black ghosts go Winter will have its time, but spring Will always have warmer climes for us to climb. Has the moon found her rose? Has the moon found her rose? In the mirror of your face When she soothed in repose Did you steal her grace? Quill in hand, did she quiver Then strike out the stars Short fuse Gods voltage emitter Baneful of how beautiful you are. Has the moon found her rose? One equal of her rhythmic music Her nocturne throes Poetic refinement is therapeutic. But so is the hand we trace To the stars in their orbit That weaves and embraces The world with us transported. Her Work Her workbench is a tale of art Brushes of every size lay in wait She says it's heaven to spoil her-self Paint and pamper and decorate. My job is to look my very best: And to put out my chest, pose and smile. Wink in the right direction if it- Serves me well, I'll put you under my spell. Hair blonde then purple and pink the next Body inked. All is a canvas nothing is real The hair the eyelashes, her teeth whitened And even her face has had a peel. An all over body tan straight from A spray can, isn't it obligatory To then carry a Pomeranian a- Pekingese a Shih Tzu in a Chanel bag. ‘I wear Stuart Weitzman heels baby, I've got status-baby, to hell with you'. When we're gone and no longer To be there when we're gone and no longer That freshly taken photo, with our children In some movie at a wedding as a spectator Part of the scenery, not yet an anachronism A footnote in time isn't that our aspiration… Remembered as a star in their constellation … Orbiting their hearts, their starry heavens Still shedding some contributory light That guides them on their path, a presence That gives them the courage to face the night To be there when we're gone and no longer So they might not in their footsteps falter. Bolshoi Dancers I believe the world is changing its core beliefs It's moving from iron changing to a zinc alloy It's now, moving from zinc alloys to a mercury core And what's more, the temperature is rising The temperature is rapidly-rising for sure And what's more, potentially there is no guarantor. No promise the Bolshoi dancers shall dance anymore No, promise that the world will be here at all To ballet dance on its axis To figure skate like a dying black swan Once, we're all dead and gone Once, were drowned at the bottom of this mercury pond. Last visit & conversion Here lies— My grandmother Weak tired, nearing her death The archetypal grandmother Who soothed all manner of nursery cries Who made everything so much better? Here lies— My grandmother Weak drained approaching her final breath In that last week of heinous lies … Spoken in strictly sweet "hellos", Not in those sad, departing, closing "goodbyes". … Valedictions, farewells Before, the cloak of her life Lifts & falls silently bereft. Closes like a child's ballerina music box In her last wheezed surrendered, dying breaths. In hopes-prayer In hopes coiled never-fading-ending In words, formed all too cold & informal Like crusts of stale bread. Floated in the mouths of the living, Where it has been faithfully-said That our own, increments will also rise Conversely, against all natural logic And speak from our own, deathbeds. "Will not each & every one of us..? One day, converse, with the dead". Here lies— My grandmother And to bring you up to date she is now dead, deceased. But conversely against our present state of mind But not this individual, not my heart or will. I'll open a ballerina music box; hear her sing once more I'll see her again in this life or the next, all logic denied. Of that my dear friends I am not just nostalgically sure. Ashes… You've reduced my heart to ashes But still, still, I would ask you to blow, Blow, deeply into these remains static See me glow, tremble into living flame. Know my fire for you cannot die Its tempest has no inner peace or calm. A hurricane that alternates between Heaven and earth, longing, longing To be in just one happy dwelling But like an ocean tide, there's no such place. So of course, if my fire, fire were to burn Begin to vent throughout my core—its Because I love you with my every, pore I'm near extinguished, but that only Makes me yearn a million times more To feel our fanned flame fire restored. You've reduced my heart to ashes But I've still this love, this unused passion. The Rose and the Bumble Bee Love must have its tempest Said the Bee to the Rose Love must have its passions-harnessed Before its midnights, close. Yes, love must have its passion Said the Rose to the Bee Love must unburden of a fashion If, it's ever to be free. But isn't that loves, betrayal Said the Bee to the Rose Peering beneath; her petal veils Before whisking on his toes. Your love truly a tempest Said the Rose to the Bee But I'm the queen most; royalist Sir—on this we'll both agree. Love must have its tempest And this is plain to see Why passion's flame did bless The Rose and the Bee. Mother-nature Mother-nature what is the essence of spring Does father berate you turning back his sheets? Does he wait in the wings with chilly deceits Mother-nature you're waking up everything. The dawn is rousing with birdsong and crickets Hens are cluck, cluck, clucking once again The farm dog is barking-mad in the thickets And coppiced-boughs emerald in the woodland-fen. Mother-nature what is all this foliage about My ankles they're reddened by stinging nettles And mountain, rivers are leaping with brown trout Mother-nature, there's cherry, blossom petals: Everywhere I walk; you're a good ten, steps ahead The grounds covered in slugs and snails it looks Like they're carrying picnic baskets on their head Mother-nature—father is reading hymnbooks. He wants to blanket the world in ice and snow, Put a bookmark in this passage and embrace you. But you're as skittish as a new-born lamb, so- I ask for Sis Summer, "what's your overview". Bolshoi Dancers I believe the world is changing its core beliefs It's moving from iron changing to a zinc alloy It's now, moving from zinc alloys to a mercury core And what's more, the temperature is rising The temperature is rapidly-rising for sure And what's more, potentially there is no guarantor. No promise the Bolshoi dancers shall dance anymore No, promise that the world will be here at all To ballet dance on its axis To figure skate like a dying black swan Once, we're all dead and gone Once, were drowned at the bottom of this mercury pond. Bubble Gum Pavements City pigeons make street art under bridges A Jackson Pollock, something organic. It, could be Mural 1950s and look—here? A bubble-gum pavement is this urban street art. The pointillist canvas does it mimic the universe And all that's still, to ‘comet' through there…? I love all kinds of art but a dead carcass. In formaldehyde stretches that to the limit. I'd rather see some burnt-out Wreckage! A car, where no-one got hurt or died. I'd rather see pigeon excrements… Then a human, anatomy, artist: Using, someone's once living flesh and bone I'd rather see bubble-gum pavements. Then see this great, new modernistic art of nothing at all. Colossal Choices Open my heart, open my eyes Prise-me-open like a mussel I have grit, I've got, fire, passion… Little else belies inside my shell But my heart & soul they're colossal. "I cannot undersell such a pearl"… Not when countless others are misshapen So give me all you've got, prince or frog …Or else the deal is off null and void And I'll head back to my grotto-gutted Miserably empty and totally, annoyed. The journey home Aisle on aisle in them, church pews, going home They hold their iPhone 7s like a prayer book Bent in devotion switched to some—Om! Haloed busses, baited on a fishhook Each waiting for that vital uplink call Is it the voice of God or just subtext? I feel I'm not connected, less enthral… I don't like iPhones at all—I'm perplexed I haven't God, at my fingertips—my ear And this isn't my church or Sunday school. As a rule, I read a book some seer A clear-eyed poet, prophet so I'm, uncool I'm, inclined to sit, alone, quite detached A vestibule, where God and I are, patched. Without you Energise my heart with a winning glance If I were fain to look away, but glow With every fibre of my being—I owe. I would gaze at you with no more askance… Then a flower does a gentle shadow While wilting of thirst like a Pasque flower For morning dew to enrich its power, "You're starlight here" nothing can foreshadow. Nothing native or common, about you You're more graceful than the prairie crocus Eyes on you, I hold the world in one breath Eyes closed and the universe is in focus All is fixed, in rightful place, life and death They mean, totally nothing, without you. Confession Eve's lover comes to warm her with hot apple tea, He brings the peppermint the acidity of lemon She brings the honey, the vitamin C, -He needs—he hands her over a piece of ripe heaven At the core, all she wants is to bite this phial of venom. And hear his deepest, darkest, confession Forget all about fig leaves and noble, discretion. The first whack of light As a boy, I loved verdant virgin lands The first whack of light peeking through the mist Glistening-like a golden cloak sun-kissed And nature's volume going through its radio bands I loved wands of droplets weighted just so The silent dew cannot enumerate - Watching robin redbreast reverberate His shrill bloated song to what do we owe - This honour of your presence little friend Why does the earthworm turn tail with the snail? Does your red jersey; scold their eyes, offend. As one kingdom ascend upon the vale Another descends blind as a mole, a bat Lucky am I in my bright habitat. Cot Death I dream so, oh so, so high of ye Night and the soul, wilt rest And raise me on an oncoming cloud Aloft to my angel, my angel child That winged my heart flutters with joy I wish to bring ye young one home And clothe thy bones with flesh and blood But all I have is gone, my seed in the grave Ye have flowered and died in the spring; Our little-winged soul is ye lost. Like sheep When I count my dying prayers and weep Don't bleat child, don't bleat! In the holy meadow, sleep, sleep, sleep Until that time again we meet. Could You Image Just One Navajo Indian Tribe? In the absence of any Law there Was once upon a time order Order without any crime, and Loyalty and love without a penalty. Can you imagine such a serene, springtime? Could you image just one Navajo Indian Tribe? Spinning & weaving, hunting and fishing, Farming and growing, living and loving in relative peace Bivouacking under buffalo hides Gently, grinning ear to ear, with razor sharpened teeth Teeth sharpened for indigenous decoration. Not to start any hostilities, of course, I could be wrong… Even predawn Eden may have been stillborn. Did It Prevent Your Sun Kissed Dreams? Father that sundial, is it death Is it Father - the hand of death? Is it the sword that cuts short a bird's flight? 'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life. The window of light O' Father is it a guillotine Does it covert our breath O' Father how, much, time Do we have? Left... 'Child, we're all adjacent, the window of life Until the bird in your soul, takes flight'. 'Child, a question—answer your father this. Did it prevent your sun-kissed dreams? Last night.' Life-on-the-wind Life-on-the-wind of a butterfly's wing Moves hither and thither, if only we - Could catch it, in essence like a sphinx Placed in our palm and watch ourselves esprit Find peace and rest, lapping up the brightest stars Discover a lifestyle, without remorse. In stillness—rest and find fulfilment blest But life on these winds all hurly-burly For each and every one, it is a test To remain afloat always inexpertly Learning how to steer a steady course Hoping, one day our faith will be, reimburse. 'Nothing like White Roses' Hiding behind soiled curtains unknown Some people behave like spiders Living reclusive lives alone. Never time for any outsiders Aloof as fawn's and leprechauns Nothing like white roses, hiding in the briars. Often there's an underlining thorn Where mental health issues Went on bleeding lovelorn long ignored. I remember a strange neighbour Who wore his mother's old clothes Ivy-clad all his windows and doors. But for all my grown-up neighbours Seeing him dishevelled became normal when doing their daily chores So intrinsically as a child, I stayed away. But I watched him this poor dishevelled man Oh, how abnormal, subnormal- Is he, what must he have suffered staying that way. Never time for any outsiders Aloof as fawn's and leprechauns Nothing like white roses, poking through the briars. He'd search bins, black oily skinned I thought what could be ungodlier- Then he, but what a warrior. My heartfelt it could break As I stared at him with my own, Two eyes filled with helpless self-pride. I never knew his name It was never, spoken But I got to know, some part of my own, shame. I guess he died when I saw all that old ivy Was slung, aside His doors and windows visible opened to the skies. He'd never time for any outsiders Aloof as fawn's and spiders Nothing like white roses, hiding in the briars. Every Second an Eternity Prolongs A face like chalk stoically cast Hand on pane of leaded glass Face peering in at times past A stalker calls to harass. She's not calling to post letters She's outside looking in, And you get to wearing fetters Haunted, but not by boogeymen. It's "written" she's not just beguiled It's all because you're a superstar That she wants to carry your child And drive your latest new car. She believes she has rights She's imagined the whole wedding The honeymoon & magazine rights She's even picking out new bedding. Now & again the doorbell is ringing As she's singing one of your songs You feel frightened the air is thinning Every second an eternity prolongs. When rivers run cold When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn. Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne? When gentle words turn harsh, it makes you wonder what went wrong Why we ever stayed, what happened to all that loving birdsong When love, turns to hate it makes you wonder why we ever kissed Why we ever [melted] only to freeze up like snow inside too cold to exist. When your soul is left wondering where to go because your all alone Is it time to rewrite another chapter, cross over that next stepping-stone When your heart is like a wilting tulip is it time to close up and drop Or is it time to rise anew and flower atop of all those others nonstop. The healings of your heart and soul, don't let them rivers run cold or dry There are fires eternal simple as a simple firefly no one else can see or classify When words turn ugly hold out an olive branch and remember it isn't you It isn't you, it isn't you, and remember, you can't be ever, subdued. When rivers run cold, it makes you wonder if they were ever warm Why we ever went skinny-dipping, swam naked in a thunderstorm When fires turn to ashes, it makes you wonder did they ever burn. Why was the air sulphur every other silent nocturne? Just remember it isn't you. It wasn't you, you, built a fire You were sent here to be a beautifier. Love unperturbed Regrets are best, left to smoulder As ashes in the grate, undisturbed Yes, now they'll burn without closure But that's how love grows, unperturbed. Gentle puffs of air once rightly directed Can rekindle fires—thought long dead. Let nought in your heart; be neglected Once; a well-placed, spark turns infrared. If you've some dying flame in your heart Already a fire to spark and burn, You'll touch some heat, residual not dark Unearthed, paint a starry, Nocturne. But like wet oil, fresh on a canvas Still to be stretched, permanently, fixed. You'll be glad you left ochre ashes- Of regret to burn fully-eclipsed. As a measure of the sunrise Shining, glowing right through you—now So later coldly you can summarise Embers fervour, dying with own two eyes. A love unperturbed with no regrets Let it burn, simmer in its flames A part of your old life vignettes- Escapades turned blue in old campaigns… Sleeping with the doves in paradise (song) Not everybody eats cornmeal bread Not everybody needs a silver spoon. Subsidence is whatever leaves you fed, half-filled Whatever you've got, you've learned to survive. Not everybody cares about a leaky roof or shoe Whatever they've endured somehow makes them more. Not everybody howls cries at a full moon Some live their life as a pure joy in the Garden of Eden. Not everybody, not everybody has a picket fence, a front door. A vaulted place to keep things in store A prayer a voice trembling on an autumn leaf about to fall A whisper is a meadow of skylarks and a dream still fading Not everybody wants to be captains and kings. Not everybody has a place for harps and violin strings Not everybody seeks applause and praise, as proof Not everybody needs a fairy tale a frog prince There are those with almost two, full good hearts- Living their days like Sundogs, in the shadows. Without a bed or a blanket just, glad to be alive. Sleeping like drifting clouds, with the doves in paradise. Stretched out like rainbows, wherever it rains, and And bends the wheat; without, breaking. Nefertiti Amidst the golden hues of some far off temple A woman bathes in radiance all her own, Stands alone, like she's just returned home. No doubt she is a tourist, escaping reality, Her books and pens have all been, set aside There are to be no more revisions, she smiles. Her auburn hair is flung forward not back Over her bare shoulders with such confidence. Now it's me who's the tourist intrigued by This Goodreads, authoresses, profile photo Visiting thoughts, you wouldn't necessarily Find in some far off pillar, Egyptian temple. Semisweet We're only sometimes, semisweet; hmm I wish we could encounter that honeybee Under the dappled, shade of His apple tree. And meet only at the core - but alas again. Autumn holds our goods in store; so we preserve Sing like blossom trees insatiable - blithely. … Last out these long winters tentatively, In springtime eat our royal jelly reserve. The cold touches my nape as harsh words Their wintery blasts sees windblown fruits fall In the end, good-seasons return my call We're dipping into flowers with hummingbirds. We're sitting on mossy boughs holding hands Watching April clouds roll and dissipate I kiss, her cheeks, she blushes red I expiate - I'll do things right at my core for her pangs. The Taste of Cyanide What can he "resist" he's just a feeble man Who leers at all the ladies, big & small? Tall or short, a scoundrel he likes them all. —He quit smoking, but like a boomerang He returns again and again because, Because he enjoys each long pungent, kiss The taste of cyanide burning his lips That gamble of not pulling the short straws. What can he "resist" he's just a feeble man Down the pub, necks as many as he can He's what many might call a journeyman, s his mug all over Instagram Thinks he's the bee's knees from a bygone age. A likeable chap some mothers might say But won't settle down, gone too far astray His looks are fading, longings disengage. What can he "resist", on the homeless list? Not those free soup kitchen meals, a blanket Not those coins tossed aside on his jacket Nor the knife at his throat, where men subsist. What can he "resist" he's just an ex-serviceman Done his best for queen & country, one time! —Now praying to survive the winter time Find a warm bed, quit smoking, drink his last Dram. Barbarity all around me There is barbarity all around me And although I close my tired leaden eyes I can't close my heart make it a detainee My soul, I can't make it naturalise. There are times, bloodhounds baying at my door Stop, stop their howling go, play, hide and seek And like a tortured ravenous carnivore They go cold, hungry and morally weak. … In human clothes; I can be cruel Leave my cage and join that pack, bloodthirsty Eyes open, hard and frozen burning fuel Is this life just somehow perfunctory I don't know where these feelings, come from But all this barbarity makes me numb. Tom McEnroe's Last Sabbath The Sabbath had its special place in his Irish heart A man of very few words & an early riser… Never late for church, always dressed his best, really, smart. …A whiff of pipe tobacco to this eulogizer— Fine, but to a criticiser a pungent crime: He died of shingles—grandfather—it's many years since In his early 90s, but I still remember—wintertime! His braving, snow & ice, tying-boots curtailing winces. He was fearful of cold weather and fearful for his health But he had faith a widower he'd his convictions Promises to keep, heart & spirit in moral wealth His Lord would see to that whatever his afflictions. Under his flat cap, he kept a hearty smile a grin Like a quarter slice of an apple, rosy pink cheeks Hair white and yellow like the rind of a lemon skin He was chesty when he chuckled in those little squeaks. As a young boy, I never asked, but would wonder why— His wife, my mother, her sister wasn't by his side Didn't they care about his beliefs & what could belie Their dereliction of duty three times amplified. The Sabbath had its special place in his Irish heart One time I went to church, my role as support— Worker—with a client whom I did dress very sharp Later, at home, I inhaled pipe tobacco, a whiff, a snort. I believe he visited my sleep, proud that I'd been? Leaving me again the smells of the resin—woodbine. I woke to remember that evening of the Sabbath Incense burning, at home & the sound of hosannas. Joy jumps heart to heart From heart to heart like a grasshopper. But all I need do is but hover over zenith green-tips of dew. All I need do' is but dance above His skies grey purlieu to feel His rainbows lance and not feel blue. All I need do' is but touch wings with His mirror-ball awnings His unworldly, light! 'Then learn heaven is truly-bright. All I need learn is to be still… Like a grasshopper He can but net at will Clasp in His palms prayer Our sinful souls free of sin forever In prayer did I hear a hum? In prayer did I hear a hum? Loud as any drum With what measured breath did it weigh? The probity-of-this another day The incline of this my decay Faiths emphatic leap The deities of men the ungodliness of snakes Love in its mortal coils heap. Motionlessly, kneeling, frequently asleep Only momentarily, awake. Like a cricket at the gate Ready to jump blindly into fate. In prayer did I hear a hum? Loud as any, drum. What Do You Want With Me? You're god-like sir & I am a pint sized lizard A chameleon with many personalities tinctured What do you want with me? I can barely hold my head above the quicksand You, yourself, walk-on-water not just dryland What do you want with me? Don't you see I am a poor man, a poor-imitation? Spiritually I'm homeless, of non-denomination So, what do you want with me? How say thou art, my lord & my saviour? If true, sir you'll forget my many misbehaviours Come now, sir, what do you want with me? I'm but an insect a cricket with a song or two Yet-sirs you want my song, although many times I'm as ugly in looks & melody, as a marabou stork. A Moment of Truth Every day is a kind of 'what if' kind of day. But 'what if' today were a different kind Of 'what if' kind of day 'what if' this day, Happened to be you're final 'what if' Kind of day, would you do anything differently. Forget those commitments And there long dead ideology, What would you do - differently? Be selfish - come now be serious Would you leave the sick and lame? Would you toast that dying minute? For a seconds worth of selfish, fame. Or would you earnestly, Just carry on… all the same. How can I How can I square the four corners of her heart with my world? How can I cross deserts without water to wet my thirst my throat? How can I defy gravity if I'm not catapulted or whirled? How can I climb all those mountainous terrains without a rope? How can I find heaven if I'm living in some underworld How can I sail all these seas and oceans without a boat How can I survive the infernos of these smoky settings blurred? If I'm not selflessly devoted to every word spoken she emotes That says she loves me; she loves me only unreserved. With a song delicate With a song delicate as scented air Wish I could betroth a flower so, rare Join in with the bee's buzzing mad Tasting their love for honey, forbad. Ablutions What's it take to cleanse a polluted river? Takes Mountains and mountains bother Takes a hard-bed a soft silt bed sister That's why silver and gold are so pure They burned in the suns highest summit Ablutions were, discovered in that plummet That's what-it-takes for a virgin or a whore That's what-it-takes to cleanse, procure A body of water another sees, effulgent. Top Hat & Tails My mother & father fought day & night But they made a hat with cardboard & glue They measured my head & were erudite This accomplishment, of their love, shone through. To me who had more than just a few doubts I slept right through it all and then came school… The very next day Hat on, they recounts My hat had won the show, yes, this was, cool. "Oddest-thing-is" I don't recall wearing it. I don't recall going to school at all… All I remember is seeing the skip- & joy in their proud hearts, still so, enthral. As they recapped the story, late one night Describing how they saved their silver foil. A "40 a day habit, " I guess they'd to light, Buy more packs, hadn't they heard of Tinfoil. The Artist's Restorative The visions of Pablo Amaringo Transport us to magical wonderlands It's like oil & water had amazing- Hypnotic properties & I expands. Ayahuasca art resonates with me But it's short-lived, too hectic for my pleasure Like some hallucinogenic—saree The real beauty lies within its nectar. … That went about healing the painter's soul. For me, there is a stiller-reflexion In those water lilies - powers - enthral Monet canvases, each flower a brethren. Each blue eggshell brush-stroke heals like a balm; Such are the properties of great artists That they can find within to such aplomb, A composure arriving, some solace. They've got this almost restorative knack Of lifting our tired, beleaguered spirits The poet, speaking tongues elegiac; Doesn't he do the same, sweet and viscous? Redemption "Redemption" does it come with a sell-by date if it does; I fear I'm already too late. See I've - done my bit of blasphemy disrespectfully but I've turned over a new leaf - oddly. So, I query my past transgressions in earnest: I've made many mistakes & was never ablest. Does "redemption" have its own, lock and key? I know the jailer looking in the mirror is me. A two edge sword is each personality; forgiveness is a fine, bottled, whisky. Once you open it, you want to drink it dry, limits forgot then your ego, you espy. Like sailors after an arduous journey, on their shore leave winking at the honey's going by. I ask myself is it a port in a storm ah, "redemption" why does it, leave me lukewarm. I guess I don't have it, and never will walk in the straight path of this obscure treadmill. Roses are on fire A river of stars A bed of roses still in bud We're but water lilies Learning to be rainbows With comet ribbons of light. Where a thorn of passion cuts Bled itself out red in the valleys. I find lust is my ground-blanket But it's always bitterly cold Black ashen as a moonlit cloak. I long to kiss the earth Be one day returned to the dust The smoke that engines a star To glow red and orange I long to be another solitary-seed. Waiting for its roots to cleave Cut a blade of green corn But I'm like a phoenix born Without any feathers Looking lost, mystified back at you. Roses are on fire Tears perspire—I choke I wither on the vine Always faithful, without true-faith Isn't it time this star my star collapsed. And joined a river of sand Ah, quicksand isn't he, my companion He's filled the chambers of my sky, He's filled life, my lungs I no longer Remember, how once I could cry. Bittersweet How weary, a foot can be, placed One following another Each one a brother slightly splayed One following another But never, truly together! How, easily can a mind be spliced Torn roughly apart Like a peach from its stone—sacrificed. Ripped roughly apart But never, with a total, disregard. How tiresome, a heart can beat Breath after breath Not finding a moments breath replete Breath after breath Brimming, full but yet full of conceit. Heavy like golden ears of wheat We hang our heads As if life were something obsolete We hang our heads Thou others are no less bittersweet. Mrs Robinson She's got more decades and experience On her than style, but she can still beguile With a little curl of a smile, you're a doting Fool, fresh out of college out of high school. She could even be the real Anne Bancroft Playing the role of a neglected housewife Shall I call you, Mrs Robinson and boast… How I hung my clothes on your bedpost. Her seduction is a heady damask fragrance A mix that fills both lungs, unrepentant… With enigmatic looks, she's so, bewitching Shame for Benjamin Braddock she's married And a little boa snake, airways constricting. The carpenter's hands The carpenter's hands are bleeding blood His hearts a house made of sandalwood He carves & smooth's it to fit a tawdry groove A dovetail joint he shares with you. And, you approve. But still you complain his soul; it has a splintered- Stairwell, where nothing ever is newly charted. You say he gazes with knotted eyes spiralling outward Into a space of stars, sawdust sutured. His carpenter's hands are bleeding blood His forefathers' arms cradled in a love-of-dust He is now at a distance from the sharp end of the plane. If only he could, uproot, uncouple one carriage of this thought train Derail the distance in that discontentment, love, once again. But still you complain; his work has no honesty? Or shame, she cries like a gull, whose ocean has no-sea-wave. His hearts a house made of sandalwood Is but flotsam; is but some malnourished driftwood. A splintered -stairwell, where-nothing-ever is ever newly sculptured. Poetry in motion We're all poetry in motion in God's hands "Aren't you a poet"? I am if God made me. The body of butterflies is damn ugly, But with glowing wings, their beauty expands. We're not two or three dimensional We've got a fourth & fifth; do you get my gist There is something very intentional Something special makes us exist. And yet remains purposeful and unclear Every life radiant with its own, music Follows its own, drum beat, each balladeer Comes, composed of grace own acoustics. If a rock crumbles to sand - composedly Turned to crystal glass, can't you apprehend? We're all poetry in motion in God's hands "Aren't you a poet"? I am if God made me. With glowing wings, my beauty too expands Flies in the face of many hopeless demands Guess the music in me wasn't really, mine Like an orchestra, everything intertwines. Unconditional Love Every being on earth wants unconditional love But their egos are like ebony, tough as old-larch Their resin is a volatile, turpentine; thereof- Unyielding nought like a soft dripping, willowy arch. But there are those the pulp of which has love in their hearts. Can paper-Mache some the cracks—be charitable! Show some Christian love; they are like the old, ancient guards Souls, which did pass on through before—unpalatable. Suffering themselves softened, ensuring a balance -of compassion & benevolence; that's absolute. But for the most part folks, there is this counterbalance Some middle ground. Most—aren't made of teak, jute. These cloths are fibrous, but that's how we soften-to-silk Our own, metal is, planished, our sharpest edges rubbed smooth By charitable acts, meanness turns to buttermilk & the milk of human kindness moves on & imbues. I see it's a journey just to hang around Never wanted a shadow any drama following Never wanted anything fake - how disappointing Never wanted ever-to-be washed, be baptised Never wanted to fall out of love or be reconciled. Never wanted to chastise a child or become angry Never wanted money beyond having a full granary Never wanted to break a heart, hurt a living soul Never wanted to be that bully, demanding control. Never wanted to miss a sunrise, become a sloth Never wanted to break a promise or an oath Never wanted this pensive sadness this melancholy Never wanted depression or to resemble a zombie. Never wanted to attempt to take my life abandon God Never wanted to be buried or my ashes in a coffee-pot … Now I'm here I see it's a journey just to hang around At times life can feel like a commit hurtling inbound. But now I'm so happy to be here close to you Forgetting who I am, what I've been, without you. Never wanted a shadow any drama following But now I'm with you nothing is too imposing. My body sighs; it's singing I'm grateful for all of this… I'm-grateful for the moonlight each starlit abyss When I look into your eyes and feel our fault lines Touch and collide, it's-like-everything has to crystallise. My daily prayer Worse treatment than animals in abattoir stockades Soldiers have fallen into the hands of butchers They've been maimed, tortured & have suffered They've lost limbs but in the fullness of time? Met challenges head-on slew their old demons Ultimately by God's grace, faith beats each enemy. These fearsome fighters refuse to be, enslaved These men & women have felt ripsaw-bullets Burning and exploding grenades And at low-ebb become our greatest heroes. Rehabilitation prepares them for healing inroads Without hatred or hubris, millstones, but hang-on. Our forthright defenders have financial worries Like anyone else jobs-housing is needed not charity Ex-military needs help to forge a sustainable future. Wars fought for our homeland protect the mainland It takes a will of iron, at great personal expense It takes strength & courage to defend the weak. To guard, shield them from tyrants, criminals There's no winner in these hard-fought battles That-friend can only be, flag-waving-vanity Right now definitely, let's not boast or despair Let's hope optimism & peace prevails everywhere Win's by all means fair. That's my daily prayer. Baboons A baboon has a stern sideways glance An air of indignation like an Indian Railway-guard at a busy train station. I see baboons, groom each other Then wonder why one doesn't groom me Don't I deserve ticks fleas bitten off me? Baboons they are simply fascinating Either from the front or behind: How did we get talking about baboons? I do not know, but let us not be unkind Just in case there is one, one-of-a-kind I don't want to hurt their feelings too deeply. Coz-baboons wear the same expression It's human too, I, don't care who you are You'll see it when they smash up your car. Baboons, baboons, baboons I see them daily going to work fed up Squinting with a look that says what the f***. Bridges We Can Admire Be brothers strong steadfast as that stone bridge? Strong as that bridge at Blackwater; Fermoy, Co. Cork in dark, turbid times it's a stint Not to teeter or fall to the seafloor. Remaining firm footed day in day out It's a brawl against the tide to be sure; Bridges we can admire sitting in dark stout Fools toppled over—might as well be manure. Wake up sonny boy, pull yourself together Let's head back to the pub and sink some more That's sound advice, but it's hard to weather When, rapidly your world is sinking, offshore. The world is corrupt The world is corrupt And wants to corrupt Everything it touches tonight! We get squished, squashed We get crushed We are hit by falling boulders Good is always swimming hard uphill Against all oncoming currents, tides Good is subsistence, God is deliverance Life-lived on nothing but hope Is like having holes in your shoes But you have a reef of dope Blowing your brains But like flowers on baron soils They're often at their most beautiful Squished, squashed, crushed And undernourished You can find they're even twice as kind The world is corrupt And wants to corrupt Everything it touches tonight! But if it's filled with your love That's fine, you can blow my mind Cos when I'm broken, I will heal twice as kind Good is subsistence, God is deliverance Darling you are meek and mild And then just evil meanness, all the time. Rough sleeping So many doorways So many children Where is the thinking It can go on ignored Why aren't they safeguarded? What is their mental condition? Why all these negative the supposition They take drugs They are drunks They are tramps Giving is easy and saves lives But isn't it all so prolonging these lies And allowing our governments To disseminate more divisions Without making policies to help It continues to be normalised So what are laws like "safeguarding" for? If it isn't for the destitute The mentally ill, Or those rough sleeping in a shop door on the floor. If this were a World War And that frozen sleeping bag swaddled body Was a victim of war? I guess there would be an outpour of help Not just when it is -4 °C Let's get them off the floor until the thaw. In so many doorways So many of our nation's children line the street Where is the town planning the thinking? Can it go on being ignored? Looking on, watching our leaders Rule with might of sword What is happening, my gentle Lord. The white elephant After the lotus blossom flowered The white elephant floats out of her sepals Seven days later, Queen Maya died. The white elephant he doesn't mix well jackals He doesn't witness death, hunger or sickness Not until he was in his mid to late twenties Not until he wanders outside the palace walls Witnesses' person suffering in their dying eddies. Does he question his own, mortality? Now faced with a man's dead severed skull The white-elephant contemplates his own, death? How can an emancipated body like a lotus unfurl? Find spiritual harmony, enlightenment How can one reach a state of true Nevada? After some six years of profound hardship He was no closer to understanding finding karma. Not until he sat meditating under the Bodhi Tree Many days, not until he was shown a middle way Did he find what he was searching for? Never would he be born again, be anyone's protégé. He found peace in the blossoms of his own, serenity Where the petals of the Bodhi tree rained on his brow He found an explanation that explained everything The dream his mother had was after all like the Tao. New Year, Starting From Tonight Let's hope this New Year brings us closer Let's hope it closes the distance the fissure Let's hope it mends those broken fences Let's hope it bridges all those gaps. Let's hope this New Year heals us all Let's hope it's filled with love and friendship Let's hope it's a shining example to our kids Let's hope it kick-starts your heart, starting tonight. Let's hope this New Year has a resolution Let's hope that, resolution lasts beyond our lives Let's hope everyone has fought their last fight Let's hope we can build a better future. Starting right-now one second, after midnight. Starting right-now let's make the future bright. No use thinking good times are impending, Let's all make it happen, starting from tonight. Life Is What? Life is what? A ball of clay Punched and softened Spun around and moulded Kiln baked every single day Till its final shape is, fashioned Or it cracks and explodes— It's in your hands how it's finished How it's used and glazed Every pot is made, with love But not all vessels contain it. Some flaws we can work upon Others are too ingrained. All pots will be made clay again It's the way of every container It's the way of every retainer That everything put in, took out is, repaid. My garden was a roadside paradise My garden was a roadside paradise A picture-perfect postcard-prairie My garden was a slice of my personality Always trying to be, at its, very best. But my lovely garden isn't love-blessed Sadly there's a cuckoo perched on my breast Who's decided I should be dispossessed. Now bindweed does its best to be caressed But I can always make another garden All I need is some dirt with a bit of Sweetness; all I need is a spade, sharpen I can't be too disheartened my love. Every garden starts from a dustbowl It just needs caring for someone to cajole. Satan calls you 27/06/2019not published A Cobra whispers to a Horned Lizard "He's got a-good-foothold on ears and minds". They're lining up tens of millions adrift. Satan profits from each of the four winds Our sense of injustice-isn't-rectified He afflicts and conflicts our flesh, assists In a manner meaningful, quantified People, never ask? …does, Satan exists. His adversary, questionable Did you read the memo, "Prayer is dead"? … That dude-Lucifer the unmentionable Caused the death of Catholicism; discs of bread, Warm wine represents the blood of Christ body. People love their abyss of drugs and drink They don't whine-on about melancholy, Bodied in a hot daisy-chain interlink- They're all happy wayfaring Infidels. Who'd give up rosemary-beads and sandals? For scenes from the bowels of hells brothels For lascivious moments, hot scandals Lives become somewhat tainted with neglect Folks sleeping-rough on every city-street Of their fate, that political, excrete…, No-longer care, who is the architect That's ejaculated, in every, tabloid Tells us it's a dog eat dog world, stays guarded Closed, captured black and white in celluloid; Live life in-full-Technicolor, uncharted. Have your sexual mishaps let them shape you Desire is the clay, vessel that reshapes you So slip-on as many shoes as you dare too Be diverse, explore another avenue. Poverty by rote Where's the dialogue between the rich and the poor Those who have and stand tall—those left behind to crawl. What we require is a poet in residence Like the one at Fremont Bridge with two testicles; The one that crosses Lake Washington Ship Canal In part might keep both sides happy - rational. France, the yellow vests movement are making protests Hong Kong there is anti-extradition protests Government the world over are short on hearing. Their benevolence always to be endearing To the bankers and their corrupt party sponsors And in England-always in the New-year honour's Where's the dialogue, where's the bridge and where's the voice Of reason and justice, who listens to our noise? Our castrated expressions are-strangled at birth, But it is we cast out like-so-much afterbirth With a birth certificate, ownership papers A number to rise-up glass-ceilinged ladders But the future is shaped by each generation That holds a ballot box vote affiliation Wavers to decide between the choices of two? Nothing-changes no one is ever overthrew Only the hoodwinked, gullible allowed a vote The child brought up in-constant poverty by rote. An effigy in a candle flame Much like mercury that quicksilver I fashion to light an unlit room Much like mercury that quicksilver I could sleepwalk my way to the moon. Crawl as does an oyster; wax and wane Burn-away to a cratered cinder … An effigy in a candle flame I too could walk on the moon Much like mercury that quicksilver I could fashion a stroll to your room Just too, watch-better how your eyes gleam. … Star of the show and yet a mixture Of dirt and snow, a polished dream With a trailing, comets, stardust plume. Much like mercury that quicksilver I could watch your star rise strike out the sun Remember how it was when I was young Gazing heavenly those stellar-front-row views When I was like mercury and you were-all-the news I could fashion a stroll around a new moon I could sleepwalk my way back to your room. Arctic snow The news is a constant in all our lives Like microplastics found in arctic snow, Yesterday's news headline no one forgives But were all part responsible, and so- Let's not adlib some sense of innocent's Act-like it's some, sort of manslaughter charge. "We can beat that crap", we aren't villainous That smoking-gun wasn't ours or this scourge Of waste; decomposing-body unclaimed On the worlds, cold mortuary table Waiting to be identified - reclaimed No, this isn't ours it's been mislabel No lead I didn't fire that pistol? Look this snow is pure and clear as crystal. The wild creature you keep in cold store Howling from the outside looking in I am the beast you won't let in I am the animal you can't ignore I am the wild creature you keep in a cool store. The thing you cannot tame or groom Goes padding around your nursery room Goes padding hungry beneath a blood-red moon It's an intuitive shadow following behind you. Banging closed the door—you, You intuitively barred opened only to run away. But this monster has your best interests at heart But you just-keep running away, Instead of being fearless You just run away. Listening to the storm that would not stop or stay, The desire you baited like it was, only child's play. "Roared" ever louder to be heard, Tears of pain and hunger deferred. Howling from the outside looking in The beast you won't let in The animal you can't ignore The wild creature you keep in a cool store. The things you tamed inside, groomed Now wants to live, breathe and be-exhumed. And live inside. "Roared" and let the world know it isn't dead. Individuality At a certain age there is a tribal brotherhood dress code of togetherness often misunderstood. Says, we'll take on all newcomers. It exaggerates their tribal rites of passage and attitude—status. They've got courage, and vitality, physical strength. Each comrade bother/ sister, true to his, herself. It's like no other alliance, they are soldiers the title of which leads us to many misnomers. The likes of which, they'll never come across again. They all set themselves -apart from being, underpin. Just the same a hippie that dark Goth, a mod, a punk, they're all equally programmed with personalities we debunk. But I respect them personally their individuality, their stand out behaviour that steers clear of banality. We don't want no, bullshit rock 'n' roll We don't want no, bullshit rock 'n' roll, we want Margaret Thatcher Toilet Roll. Give me safety pins through my nose and black bondage S&M clothes. A youthful rebellion is what we need, a nihilistic vision to, counteract tory greed. We want Mohawks, The Ramones, The Clash we're the anti-establishment can you grasp. We hate manufacturer pop culture—canned, we need The Sex Pistols we are the spat on Damned. We want "No More Heroes" by The Stranglers anthem sang, Yes, some idiot will wear a swastika, but he isn't one of us, man. We want the New York Dolls, our Transit vans no "F-ING" tour bus, Bentley or rolls. We don't want any diamante bullshit Elvis, rock 'n' roll clothes, We don't want your far-right fascist record deals We don't want to grow old and get Meals on Wheels we want Margaret Thatcher's head on our "F-ING" Toilet Roll. Give us The Buzzcocks, The Dickies, the UK Subs or 999, give me that kind of shit anytime. Fast and furious, speeded up and in your "F-ING" face, and when you sit down with your better half, alter ego, don't forget to say your "F-ING" grace. Give us something real and minimalistic, something far from enchanting or eulogistic; give us Dr Martens, Sham 69, Angels with dirty faces, give us something that can change the course of ages, history, give us back our freedom, subdivided "F-ING" liberty.