Friday Nights

At the top of the house

Above the poetics of space

At a high level with the

Self consciousness

Several floors down to the

Cellars of the unconscious

One attraction, back-along (There were several)

Anyway

Those times between

The window and the wardrobe

When we shared an apparent

Belief in things other than

The rational explanations

Mystifications, swung-along (They where ephemeral)

Our craved fascinations

Which carried the gravitas

Of irrational thought, yet

Required a leap of faith

& called upon desire

To drown her taboos

Simplification, strung-along (I recall the existential & seminal)

Close your eyes

Hold my hand

Think deeply

Go on

Say it

I know exactly what you are thinking

Without complication, down-along (We transferred the memorable)

You

Pick up the telephone

Before the ring tone rings

I

Sing out loud about the joy

Of interstellar communication

Thankful resuscitation, sing-along (We bathed in the questionable)

Warm oils massaged into skin

Listen to - The Amazing Eyes of Rita

Again alone

Though never now alone

Smiles hold, as I turn the final pages

I thank Rollo May for his inspirational book

Man’s Search for Himself (I crave for the suggestion-able)

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Aloft

Only the light of the lava lamp

As I listen to the plucked strings of the lute

Only to know that sleep is still some time away

I say that this writing is my beautiful consolation

Easy to be at ease

While one reaches to the past and to the future

Easily to find escape

From the dark stares of the present

An appeasement not shared

By those not so restful as this one

Relatives perturbed with their pasts

Stormed by heir presents and their futures

I have prepared my own stabilisation

I give it with some confidence to others

I have cathartically worked through millions of words

& still I will always give you the same sad or happy stories

A thousand times or more

Yet always with a misinformed tinge of hope

That one day there may be a reconciliation

Always in the fear of that dash of colour

A deep red rose on the shiny black suit

Also a slice of inferred beauty

In the V neck turquoise sweater

Over an inviting sunburnt breast

Always because we have to settle

I pose with a sense of tranquility

The calm sea to the clear horizon

Always, if able 

I would aim at a hint of playfulness

Such as with the sailboats in the harbour

Yet always in truth I edge towards escapism

For none of us do return, yet some day one of us might

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Plastic Film

There is a photograph

Somewhere in existence

I am the principle subject

Sat quietly, at a kitchen table

It is a small cottage

The afternoon sun filters

Through the high level windows

Past a pair of cockatiel's

The painter’s palettes

Are in a black fold away tin

The water colour painting

Is on a hardboard sheet

My black stonewashed sweatshirt

Is a gift; made in Australia

So the shark logo on the sleeve

Would have you believe

Thin auburn air, and a steady

Stance suggests a gentleness

An innocence that the photographer

Captures with simplistic empathy

All else is lost in my minds articles

Although I do think of orange flowers

I also have an idea of a feint wash

That created a turquoise background

I tell you this in response to another 

Image; from elsewhere in my existence

Where birds are freed from their cage

In search of those self same freedoms

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Mystified by the Journey

I'm still inclined

To frieze my mind

With her favoured pictures

I'll find the time

With ease designed

As if it was the scriptures

Plain as day 

We stayed away

Called ourselves the victors 

Though with feet of clay

I held back her sway

Now all that's left are the strictures

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here

Lush

Heavenly to write of touch

Rushes of times when such stuff

As transference or lapping waves

Met on the sun blessed beach

Faith to care for futures much

Exalted hopes honed good enough

For Neapolitan throws, or slow

Walks off the boardwalk out of reach

Presence then to talk in tongues

Of colours, scents and textures crushed

To feel the velvet worn with razored silk

As the forlorn son of man with lust impeached

Heavenly to write of either in the ether

Flushes of times reminded, hushed voices

That floated free on the Pyrenean breeze

Soft words squeezed hidden by the lovers breach

from the collection
The Curved Ball of an Artists Model
Love Encouraged By the Breakout
Available from itunes by clicking here