Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Arts Centred

We studied the miniatures
Our immaturity was rife
We discarded security
And hung out for life

She looks at the painting
With pencil in hand
As though without continuity
We would pray with the damned

Let's dance, I don't think so
In these shoes, I don't think so
With those eyes, I don't think so
Are you joking, I don't think so

Monday, 29 June 2015


Have you seen Cinema Paradiso
I could see the projector
Did you ever go away, and then return
I could see the curtains open
Are you clear about good and bad
I could see who bought tickets
And who didn't
Will you ever fall in love again
I could see who she was kissing
Is it true that light always reflects
I could see them roll the credits
Was it just a story after all
I can see, I might watch
As they lock and bolt the doors

Sunday, 28 June 2015


We ran as children run, we had been climbing all morning, so to have the freedom of a flat space to run on was invigorating; if we had brought a football we would have had a kick-about.

Instead we kicked stones into the stream whose crystal clear water cut across to the west side before tumbling down, over the edge and out of view.

I picked up some lichen and flowers, placed them in a small circle; if I had been a religious man I might have prayed, instead I closed my eyes and contemplated on the warmth that I felt in my body and soul.

Roger placed his hand softly on my shoulder. He was a good friend, and his idea, to bring me here, was inspired. I had that certainty that it seems only altitude and oxygen can offer.

Saturday, 27 June 2015

Buying A Camera

The salesman said it was a brand new model
The first actual 'almost' SLR
I was in escapist mode

And so I bought it, right there and then
Best thing I did on that holiday
Buying that camera

The landlady
Of the vegetarian B&B asked me did I want bacon
And at that I cannot argue, but

When she said those words I didn't stop to think;
The many years of full-on breakfasts
In working men's B&B's had made me lazy

It didn't happen again
I stayed with her all week
And it didn't happen again, no more 'bacon'

Not a soul on Sennen Cove beach
The waves can hardly lap
The water is blue, the sands are washed

Bare footsteps
Kneeling to take the picture
The first photograph of loss and nothingness

No conversation; three days alone to think
Three nights
Lonely nights alone to drink

Then northerners came into the pub; Lancastrians
Who tried their best to make me laugh
Outside, in the gardens, sculptures by a Yorkshire lass

No wonder I became forgetful as dusk fell
I did though wonder if I might have a heart attack
As I ran back for my wallet*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Friday, 26 June 2015

It Could Have Been From A Dream

I was in a swish Manhattan apartment.

The smooth wooden box, holding the projector, was on a flexible lead, which wasn't quite stiff enough to keep the projector suspended.

Then I noticed oil on the luxurious animal skin carpet, it seemed to have come from the projector box. Someone told me not to worry. I have no idea who as I didn't see them. Anyway they said it was ok, it was a lubricant to help my dancing exercise "just rub it into the carpet and start your dancing".

I thought I might buy one of those open backed trucks, we saw one at that old disused church on Sunday. I think of it is as a last grasp at youth. The projector box was neat, smooth, a sort of soft-orange colour of wood, unvarnished, with rounded corners.

I don't recollect any images being portrayed.*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Thursday, 25 June 2015

From One Photograph

I came here to write about the valley of the apricot trees
I came here to sit down and smoke that last cigarette

I might not have been all that you thought
I might not have fallen onto bended knees

I came here to write about what in time turned to nought
I came here to escape the shadow and the silhouette*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Wednesday, 24 June 2015

World Maps, Personal Relationships

About three lines in I had, in that one moment of clarity, a feeling of intense calm, with a real sense of purpose. Of course déjà vu and nostalgia played their parts; having once felt love I was able to feel love again.

And so I say thanks to this quiet Sunday morning, with birdsong, and sunlight on vases of daffodils. Yes the rest of the world is also waking; folks setting out their own precious moments.

As yesterday when my son Joseph's girlfriend Marija showed photographs of her country; exploring the castles, the lakes, and the beaches of Lithuania. All the while my own son lay on the sofa dozing; was he impervious to the attention, or was he happy at Marija's ease in our company.

Tuesday, 23 June 2015

Thought Paths to Translucency

I have no more the desire to not have desire than I have to be desirous of other desires

Always the images find a path, in and out of the cerebral cortex, in and out of the daylight of the sunshine mind

So I become calm, to see the flowers wave in the breeze, to read Buddha Maitreya's words on self and ego

Yet I know that life is not one long stream of lotus blossoms, yes I know that I have to climb the hill before I reach the temple

But the gas man is on his way, and soon the boiler will be working, giving warmth throughout the household

Although it is not particularly cold this morning, it is a surprise that last night's clear sky, with stars and crescent moon

Did not bring a frost, instead the clouds provide a blanket which the sun gradually breaks through*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Monday, 22 June 2015

Melodious Not Melodrama

The light arrives
Slow, sure, and certain
Brighter every moment

Overwhelming sometimes
With glare and reflection
Yet always the gift of energy

Always the gift of life

And shadows, through the trees
And haze, through the mist
And, should you see the music stand

You could believe that the notes
Are there for you alone
Or, because you feel benevolent

You might share this sun, choose
To share this day, to share this
Happy-go-lucky Blue Nile melody

Sunday, 21 June 2015

Waking, Moving, And Writing

I woke, it was dark
I rose
I was somewhere in between

I moved, it was moving
I chose
Nowhere to be seen

I brewed tea, it was warm
My repose
The very thing I mean

I sat, it was quiet
I suppose
That time again to redeem

I thought, that's the sunlight
The light on which I lean

I write, it was morning
Thinking of what might have been

Saturday, 20 June 2015

Imagined Image

The photograph looks like the city, yet for certain my grandparents lived in a small village. They moved there after my great grandmother passed away, she was almost ninety; her husband, my great grandfather, had passed away only two months before, he was the village cobbler.

The critics always come second, for without the artists, who always come first, they have nothing on which to base their criticism upon. Of course they may make witty remarks, or show off their learning by referencing comparable works; though in truth, for any of this to be authentic, the artist will already have shown his hand towards these influences and witticisms.

We used to go to tea every Sunday; you had to go through the kitchen, a lean to extension, at the back of the house, to get to the downstairs washroom. It was an end terrace, with a small triangular garden to the side. A very nice old lady lived next door, we used to call and say hello.

This was Paris, England, not Paris, France, which is most probably where the photograph was taken. Any criticism of the original photographer must be laid aside, for he has brought back such sweet memories into my life, which otherwise might have been no more than dust.

Friday, 19 June 2015


This page is empty, even with the mist, and the rays of winter sun, which whisper over the freshly ploughed furrows

This page is empty, even with a referral to The Twenty Love Poems of Pablo Neruda

This page is empty, even if I offer you a share of The Naked Lunch with William Burroughs

I looked up; the brilliant bright haze had turned into a dull undistinguished February day

I listened to the breakdown of the breakdown

I contemplated how the trapped may become less trapped; one moment by one moment was all I thought

I thought we were there together

Our memories though are not the same, as Pete eludes to in his song: the words I spoke were not always the words you heard

The playlist is based on John Martyn's One World

Thursday, 18 June 2015

Tree Thoughts

Take what you will
From this mood, or air
At first it is uplifting
Until further contemplation
Reveals an indiscriminate sky
And trees, bare without leaves
Yet wait, are not the hedgerows
Tinged with a purple maroon
As though life itself
Was reaching out to spring
When love may well again
Be found there on every corner
With the scents and the stimulations
Of roses in bloom, and
Skipped steps around the maypole
And did I not see a hint
Of light copper in that clutch
Of fine branches, set bright
Against the fading grey

Wednesday, 17 June 2015

Driving The Self-Indulgent Imagination

I drive into the mist
The trees stand as silhouettes
Enticing me into their magical playground

I drive into the blue sky
The jet-trails evaporate
Encouraging me to think of restful vacations

The female singer's voice
Triggers my mind to send impulses
That then wildly stimulate my erogenous zones

It is as though her very rasp of timbre
Is as an expression of thigh on bare thigh
A simulation of those undressing steps to the love-ground

This time it was Tanita Tikaram
With Valentine Heart from her Ancient Heart Album
But it could just have easily been Liza Minnelli
With that album she had recorded by The Pet Shop Boys

Tuesday, 16 June 2015

Dining Out

The darker shadow shows off the lighter shadow more distinctly. It suggests to me that the purpose is more to do with those around you, rather than it is to do with ourselves. And so I take the pan fried salmon, with rocket salad, in order to keep my health on the right track.

I am in the hotel where I have stayed before; they don't read John Ashberry here but I have brought a book by Doris Lessing. The barman does not stand well, though he his a youngish man, but obviously both bored and not well versed in etiquette or deportment. However if a brawl should ensue I would choose to be on his side, he might have played for the county at rugby, or been a bouncer for Billy Connolly.

Monday, 15 June 2015

Truth & Friendship

We told each other stories:

He spoke of the petrified fell walker who was stuck on the precipice. Even though my friend was there with his thirteen year old son he took time to talk and coerce the climber who had frozen on the edge of the shear peak. Back at the hotel the climber told my friend’s wife that her husband had saved his life for certain.

My story had less depth of detail yet it also concerned the power of the mind. I was driving my son, who I was collecting after he had visited his friends at Hull university. From the very point of picking him up I gradually convinced myself that I was going to drive off the Humber Bridge.

I referred to Billy Joe McAllister and the Tallahassee bridge, my friend told me the name of the song and the singer. He also said the mind could be a particularly powerful beast. Let's hope it's not another two years until we meet again, in the Hall Garth hotel sauna. 

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Final Walk

Drawn from the words
How absurd still to reach out for you
Driving by kerbs aching to impeach the truth

You, my one love, so long in the making
You, my one heart, so strong in the braking

Ten years of loss to blame
On that the day of saddest of blue
Glad-rags packed away, off to bleach the blackest hue

The hurt is deep, although more so the longing
The ache goes on, increasing also the non-belonging

Saturday, 13 June 2015

One Track Mind

I won't forget
The wooden floor
The single door

The orange-rust bed settee
Her turquoise cardigan
The intensity of it all

That all of this should come
From listening to just one song
By that fine man Pat Metheny

All of this
After reading Ben Lerner's 
Leaving Atocha Station

Friday, 12 June 2015

End of One Thing

When there is no more to articulate
The bright smiles have turned to pain
With nothing left there to pontificate
Sunshine is replaced by falling rain

New words then needed to eradicate
Clean phrases to help erase the stain
No time for doubt or to self-medicate
Fresh thoughts help improve the game

All of this brought on by the sight of the bright and shiny bob-cut brunette who smiled and waved

When the singer sings to emancipate
And turns the way of the brave
With no fear that she may ruminate
The crowd will once more surely wave

Release the lines with light to elucidate
Frame the images as true nature gave
No clowns are there left to imitate
The truth of love is all you need to crave

Thursday, 11 June 2015


I am on the promenade in June
I am alone, but that does not matter
There is a beach cafe, not too far away
I am warm, in the meditative midday sun

Already I have been writing quite some time, yet this mood hit me in an instant, while reading John Fante's Ask The Dust

I have no desire to move
I am settled into the surroundings
There is light traffic, but that's no bother
I am happy watching passers by pass by

What was I thinking, not to have washed out my mouth; the residue of lust, all mindful and horny

Wednesday, 10 June 2015

Angel Break

There are lights
There are windows
There is wind
And there is rain

Four wood posts
Four tartan cushions
An homemade bedstead
As big as a field

Four fields to the pub
Or a rattle-on-down
The old cart track
In moonlight and mist

Three somehow couples
Here on Xmas vacation
Set the controls
For the heart of the sun

Oranges for breakfast
And who was Thin Lizzy's
Guitarist before Gary Moore
And where is the CD 
Blues & Ballads

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

One Question - No Answer

Could I be alone
Alone to be
What would I be alone
Alone to be
They say he stood alone
Alone to be
It's me that's good alone
Alone to be

I had friends and I had family
I lived by moon and by sea
I had happiness and I had recovery
I lived by reaching out for me

Should I be alone
Alone to be
What would I be alone
Alone to be
They say he stood alone
Alone to be
What good to be alone
Alone to be

I had light and I had the dark
I lived by words to breathe
I had energy and I had appetite
I lived a life approaching free

Monday, 8 June 2015

Observations From Within

There are lights
There are windows
There is wind gathering
There will be rain, we suppose

And we moved closer together
And you turned over to find me
And that is when we started to kiss

There is a fire and a cooker
With friends to prepare breakfast
Or we could stay in bed till late
Rising to eat cake, or so I propose

And there are six
And we are two of they
And we didn't want to miss

There is a wood-burner
Whose chimney draws the draught
There is a Christmas Tree
A ukulele for the songs you chose

And there are decorative ribbons
And photographs of sheep
And love of faraway, reachable bliss

There are games on the table
There is mood music on the iPod stereo
These are thoughts from Angel Barn
This is the life not yet to close*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Sunday, 7 June 2015

To Question

Could I live to be alone
Alone with all the guilt
Could I give to be alone
Give away all that I have built

Could I shift to be alone
Lone as sifting through the silt
Could I drift to be alone
Drifting to the day I wilt

The sun alone is slowly rising
The breeze begins to flee
Darkness is near on prising
Again we share the light to see*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Saturday, 6 June 2015

You, Away (Cowdust)

A simpler way
Similar of the day
And of the night time

Meditation sways
Calm of purpose to play
With children to lights out time

Picture peaceful Mandalay
Or restless, chaotic, Bombay
Rich colours intertwined

Away for two days to stay
Here alone in our bed I may
Write of the lovers sign

Friday, 5 June 2015


There was no one here
Yet quite suddenly
It is busy

There was nothing to fear
Even the past
Of dizzy Miss Lizzie

These are hill people
Hills and valleys
Grass to stream

Dry stone walls
Sheep farmers dream

Barns and bairns
At work and play
Tor views that redeem

Thursday, 4 June 2015

Absence Of Free Will

It is not that I am torn
It is more that my mind
Seems to go
Just wherever it damned well chooses

I have been in love before
I am in love again now
Images & memories
Which my mind frequently abuses

If on occasions forlorn
If caught on barbs that bind
I am resigned to follow her
Just wherever she damned well pleases

If to think of the spotlit dance floor
To shuffle so lightly how
With footsteps and body sways
She poses, she teases

Wednesday, 3 June 2015


Without words
A mind filled to overflowing
With maps and images
Famous painters
And women's breasts
Still mountain mists
From the east of Saigon

Into the night time
Wait for quiet to fall
Darkness to take her shadows
Memories of dusk clamber
For your erstwhile attention
Detention is worth the call
From the rest of the world

Tuesday, 2 June 2015

Thin Air

The words hold themselves
I have no way of propulsion
You, where my thoughts go
Might be scared that they lie

Unable to hold or elucidate
I can only wish of their lost ether
Readers, in the lonely rooms
Call out; this is another lovers cry

Monday, 1 June 2015


Woman of man's life
Where would we be without 
Her otherwise attractions

Man of woman's life
Who would otherwise
Share less undue distractions