Bag Job

The half-baked golden moon
In a star struck, star spangled sky
That incontinence calling

To be at one with nature
A wee in the night

A wee long look at the night sky
Moonset at midnight
With October smelling of new mown hay
Driving past presence
Escaping into the day
In touch with such wonderment
How can anyone believe

By, it is such wonderment
Oh, oh what a relief
Moon after midnight
Golden orb of redness and light
Walking on globules of goodness
Opening to kindness

Hidden deep
With distance, for kindness
With but words, for release
Walking in wonderment
Oh no, I’m sorry, it is beginning to seep

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Songbird Sleeping

Like a willow weeping
Or a songbird sleeping
Like a time remembered, so clearly
Or a time you came so close, so nearly
When the cold waves came crashing
Tethered nights with dark winds thrashing
Under stars and half-moons rising
Skimming pebbles half surprising
Thurlestone sands

So so far from Thurlestone School
Only needed one more broken rule
Under stars laughter hides the fear
Sinister is the minister that does not hear
And that is just what we do
Me, you, we two
Like willows weeping
Like songbirds sleeping
Another time you just smiled
Along the golden mile
Jack the lad in life and laughter
Getting, impressing

Whoever it was you were after
But in the camouflage of undercover
Wanting to be more than just one other
Needing to prescribe a different being
Creating images for onlookers seeing
Not knowing what is truly showing

Or who cares enough to be knowing
Designer clothes are no compensation
Neither is narcotics a true sensation
Life lived in void space nine
Way apart, abreast from time
Like a willow weeping
Like a songbird sleeping
The guitar played blues and soul
The band embraced the wrecking ball
Earlier the songs they were engaging
Memories and old emotions

They also were raging
You never meant to part
So why did you start
Drifting into the grey abyss
Forgetting what you would miss
Climbing mountains and missing molehills
Moving in motion, but leaving picture stills
That was what you wanted to do
To create something, well me too
More than simply nine to five
More feeling dead than alive
Like the willow weeping
Like the songbird sleeping
Evoking outspoken jokes
Handing round the Spanish smokes
Jack Daniels and Stella ice

Heading off in search of spice
Catch a late-night cab
Once again you’re jack the lad
Only this time come tomorrow
Laughter will turn to sorrow
Deeper down into your own depression
Caught inside your own oppression
Not able to imagine

How to change your state
You've lost that path to the golden gate
And all around everyone else is trying
Yet you, you are the only one not crying
You are not the willow weeping
No more are you the songbird sleeping

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Black Pool

We’re here
We’re right along the South Shore
We’re here
We’re strolling down the Promenade
Kiss me quick
Kiss me hard
Take me now
Take me down the Promenade
We’re here
We’re playing at the Pleasure Beach
We’re here
We’re walking on the Golden Mile
Kiss me quick
Kiss me while
Take me now
Take me down the Golden Mile
We’re here
We’re treading on the North Pier
We’re here
We’re dancing at the Winter Gardens
Kiss me quick
Kiss me, oh pardon
Take me now
Take me down the Winter Gardens

We’re here
We’re climbing up the Tower
We’re here
We’re riding on the Trams
Kiss me quick
Kiss me, kiss me on time
Take me, take me now
Take me down the Fleetwood line.
Can you remember the candy floss
Can you remember the toffee apples
Can you remember the Fun House
Can you remember the Wild Mouse
We’re here
We’re queuing at the Donkey Rides
We’re here
We’re gambling on the Slot Machines
Kiss me quick
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me my bride
Take me, take me now
Take me down the rising tide
Take me, take me now
Take me down the slow slow ride
Take me, take me now
Take me down the fragrant side

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Remember The Hero

Commitment
Equal to zero
Never, not ever, except if it’s ok
Fall in line
Join the queue
Open time for rejection
Pity is not
Ever selected
Parting shot’s failing words
Nothing more than meaning
At that instant in time
Opportunity bespoken
Courage to have no conviction
Desirous of freedom
Fleeing to be free
Course it just does not
Work any other way
Corruption without care
Stating the obvious
Pouring the rhyme
Steering to be
Well that is the way

See if you risk
Losing it all
Reading the line
Creating the image
Clouding the issue
Take it on, head first
Take it to task
Neglect asymmetric action
Proud to beg
Upstanding to fall
Crazed with distortion
Extinguish the anguish
Obliterate desire
Mask any malignant hope
Wreak havoc and teardrop
Crush the chaos, and the cause
Eradicate ethereal thought
Bring into some being
Alternate hope
Equal to Zero
Remember
The heroes and the villains

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Invisible Man

Strides and vest
F**k the rest, its just illumination
The record player and short-cropped hair
Can they take, can they take any more
Bare of foot, unable to care

Feeling and seeing the deep despair
Can they take any, any more
Rented room, fade and zoom
His personal space for me to play
Banks of lights, electric switches
Nothing to see, nothing to see
No route inside your mind, nothing to find
Invisible, invisible man
Strides and vest
F**k the rest, its just illumination

Drying frame, crying shame, crying game
It’s only tea towels and boxer’s briefs

Empty hangar, crumpled coat

Castle moat it ain’t
Chequered shirt, washed out dirt

Ready for tomorrow, or today
Put up chair, it’s not always there

Not permanent
Somewhere to stare

Though nowhere to hide or confide
Sink full of dishes

Curtains off the swishes
The bins are overflowing

With yesterday’s news
But hang just there; that Roman pillar’s rare
What’s it hide, what’s inside

Besides the wool and shoddy felt
Strides and vest
F**k the rest, it is just illumination

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Weightless

Remember watching

That 66 Wimbledon final
Then rushing on to the local court to play
And after watching the 66 world cup final

At the home of football
Then running to the nearest park

To score the winning goal
Remember Lords, cricket

Sunshine summer wherewithal
Inspired immediately to place

Willow bat on corky ball
Then there’s that Laurence Llewellyn
Encouraging us all

To change our living rooms
However, on this occasion, rather
It was the poetry of Carver
Betjeman, Browning and Auden
Visions, gifted through poems

Words sympathetically spoken
Of love and life, of love and loss
Emotion, pain, pleasure, candy floss
Sweetness to soften the blow
Without the worry of the sugar
Without the weight of the thought
I've let myself be immersed, I am enthused
I'm on their pitch, I write to you

Are you… confused

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Free David Hockney

Orange grove
Mulholland Drive
From the mountain to the sea
Waves of Freesias
Floods of shimmering grass
From the garden to eternity
Orange men of Ulster
Belief, tradition or conspiracy
Fighting to be free
Decaying, slowly dying flowers
Scorched, torched, grassland misery
Genetic feeding, unknown disease
Blue sky, sunshine
A zephyr of a breeze
Summer dreams, sweet memories

Chocolate and Cinnamon
Birthday party
Sunday tea
Flying back from Guantanamo
Two years of nothing but darkness
Returning, again in darkness
Questioning and again questioning
Interrogation

Why, why were you there
Tomorrow you will be released
But will you, will you
Ever again be free

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Play Callisthenics

On every

One occasion
Yes every time

We meet
A special little

Happening
Yes dancing

Little feet
On every

One occasion
Simply washing

Dishes sleek
A separate

Memory moment
Yes dancing

Cheek to cheek

Morning Exercise
Awake
Awash
Avogadro’s law
Balance
Breathe
Balm of Gilead
Cajun
Cake
Carbon tetrachloride
Diesel
Dandruff
Dendrochronology
Element
Educate
Erotomania

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Chorus (For those you’ve left behind)

It seems to me
From the way you dress
That you are a long way
A long way from home
I also surmise, surprised
That you are lost
Lost inside, or so I find
Inside your sketchbook mind
Looking back
Back along the promenade
The turret and the tower
They are your silhouettes
The clock in the square
The coronation cross
They are your foreground,
Your definition and fine detail
This picture

Framed to the East
Framed by the faraway shores
Beyond the distance

Away and beyond the horizon

The Jurassic cliffs crumble

Their history cloaks another kind of time
You are, I surmise
A long way from home
Are you here to escape
Escaping the troubles of a mad mankind
Are you here; away, but crippled
Crippled by your wandering mind
The stillness and calm
Of this present situation
Aside from the wars and the warriors
Is it this that tests your patience
The injustice of your situation
Not by choice, nor in context
Simply an artist drawing; drawing
On what’s left, left of life in time
The light is fading
You have moved along
The chorus, or the song, has gone
The stolen lives

Of those you’ve left behind

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Happy Day

By chance you happened

Upon a black lake walk
Shearwaters of reflection

Reflecting one more magical moment
The flight of the partridge

And the excited young collie
Soul refreshed, hope rebirth

Underfoot the twig leafs crackled
Ethereal and eternity

Thank heaven for spontaneity
Meander among the coriander

Hands blessing vision and line
Bright light out of beauty

Splish-splash, light onto beech leaf
Sing and bring good to good times

Sing, bring good once again
Playful seeker of pleasure

Hedonism out of Ithaca returned
Bountiful protector

Of the prosaic presenter
Wish for mirth, wish

Shear essence, fluorescence of joy

Atmosphere emerging

Resurgence of energy amongst enigma
Pretence is the maker of dreams

Protect the rabbits of Bethlehem
Mend, cognisance blends

Mindful of love, innocent in joy
Sorting, becoming

Of images past, captured, enraptured
Floodlights on memories

Provoking, freeing fresh thought
Waltzing Matilda

And whirling swirling dancing tunes

Runes without time

Blooms without blinds
Meditation, a lover’s medication

Dedication, sealing, healing

Revealing feathers and plumes

Honed and groomed
Walking back along the pathways

Holding spaces; minutiae

Binding moments into aspherical wholes
Believing the fragments of fortune blessed

To fall in this spectacular, peculiar

Non-perfunctory kind of way

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Chronicle

The cathedral’s silent space
The blacksmith’s forging flame
The British bed and breakfast
Walk across the reservoir ramparts
Canal boat over the sky-high viaduct
Coach trip to the seaside
Scared that it could all be lost
Scared that there could be even more
Scared by the shifting sands of minds
Time is the ethereal enemy
Understanding the hours

The minutes, the days
Missing by a mile the years

The generation, the life

The railway platform at mid-day
Apples and oranges on the market stall
Alehouse and alfresco foraging
Cars boarding the over-night ferry
Fishermen landing their catch on the quay
Cricket whites and willow battered ball
Scared of not meeting the cost
Scared that there could be even more
Scared by the fluidity of inflation
Money is the surrealist enemy
Understanding the pound in our pocket

Missing by a mile

The millions flowing through a lifetime

The works Christmas party
Bingo at the club
Dominoes in the pub
The aeroplane

Going from ground to cloud
The ice cream on the promenade
The surfboard cutting spray
Scared of being somewhere different
Scared there might be even more
Scared by a changing space
Place is the straight-jacket enemy
Understanding the room

The yard, the town
Missing by a mile the city

The county in the country
The cinema screen imagery
The theatrical actor’s observations
The brass band playing eulogies
Mountains of misunderstood meetings
Thousands of insincere greetings
Waiting for Murphy's law
Scared of not saying
Scared that there could be even more
Scared of listening and feeling
Communication is the free-world enemy
Understanding hello, goodbye, yes and no
Missing by a mile everything in between

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Wind Band

It is, is it just a room, just like many other
A simple carpet, bedspread, eiderdown cover
Carved tabled embraced with lace
Drawers for dressing, with lathe-turned legs
Listening to the Ironmonger’s Ball
Over the rolling, calling, windswept wall
It is, is it, just another room
Like, alike, alike many another
A space, stark, dark, dark turned light
Sounds escaping into a classical night
It’s a living, breathing, developing art

Fighting, fighting for its very future
In this room, towards Nirvana
A wind band, a wind band orchestra
Colours combining, harvesting in my mind
In this room, unlike that night

Unlike any other

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Untitled 1

I laugh on my own

But I am not alone
No, you are here
You do not disappear
Is this the same
For lovers in grief
The disbelief
Shown by friends and family
Who do not
Will not understand
You have not gone
Not away
Just to

Another peaceful place
Where I join you
Everyday
In my own way

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Temeraire

Horizon, sunset on the horizon
Light scattered, falling from the sky
Reflections of ships on the water
Shorelines and cityscapes

Fade, fade, and fade away
Orange, yellow, ochre, rust and blue
Flames flare from her chimney
As she tugs the majestic sailing ship
Underneath a sky with both sun and moon
Did he ponder on the galley
Wondering why not a soul in sight
Could the sea have been so many colours
Would that the imaginations

Might beam so bright
From across the oceans sailors gather
Line the decks as they reach the shore
Yesterday was flags and bunting
Today is calm; good men quietly go
Storm clouds behind the night
Bring brightness to the fore
Light, a likeness to your imagination
Your sun-drenched early evening sky
Mandolin wind, you have the weight
Strings whispering, you are nearly being

Drum skins smoothed

Your brushstroke wavers
The bass guitar plays

You gently weep and cry

Promenader's right behind you
Waiting and watching your vision unfold
Your story, you gave thus on the canvas
Eight score years and more ago
Red, grey, silver, white and golden
The flickering flag atop the mast
Ropes and rigging tidier than nature
Close up close, I spy a crew
A sea of two reflections
Mirror sun and mirror moon
Painting thousands of projections
For the nation to consume
Did you say you were going nowhere
No more the sea to be a roving
The last voyage has been
And gone
We should have seen the sadness
The colour was without your joy
The smokestack racks our guilt
Cracks upon, our mistaken preconceptions

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Praxitella

Praxitella, ample fella, dynamist
Kissed by your own imagination
Kissed as a mistress
Kissed by your monumental sculptor
Beyond existence, enlisted
All fingers and fisted
Your picture is a writer
Your writer is a picture
No wonder that you missed her
Kissed her like a sister
Realism, on society’s cubist blister
But the lines they would not

And could not go away
The lipstick, the saddened eyes
The emphasised thighs and steely wrists
Enlisted gestures

And so so suddenly to be kissed

How much you must have missed her

Hair cropped and shaped
From some pyramid picture
No joy portrayed
Whoever the lear that kissed her
Tapping of the finger
Splinter in the Wyndham
My he almost missed her
Looking for her sister
Now you sit
Between the Dance Club
And Christ’s Entry into Jerusalem
Praxitella
Were you invaded, persuaded

Even confiscated
On Jacob Kramer’s Day

‘The Day of Atonement’

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