Did you walk the fired stubble
Of last years corn harvest
Did you stain your bare feet
With the half black dye
Of the sodden black ash
Play another song; any
You care to choose, then
Reminisce as best you can
In Fields of Gold, or down
Highway 61 (revisited)
Did you walk on the downs
Where bare grass opens up
To the chalk substrate below
Did you scribe a sign or symbol
To signify your past and presence
Sing along, to your hearts content
Whistle and yodel if so you wish
Make it no Houses, houses, houses
To be built here, on what was once
England's green and pleasant land
Wednesday, 28 October 2015
Tuesday, 27 October 2015
Swing
Sat by Infinity Bridge
Eyes cast across the water
Canoeists venture out
Cut through the breeze blown tide
Monday, 26 October 2015
Verminous
Listen to the crows
Feel the scrunched up skin
That says you need to sleep
Forget the dreams
Of work place disorganisation
& mixed up appointments
Those guys
They were just trying
To catch you out
You don't need
Those sorts
Of so called colleagues
Feel the scrunched up skin
That says you need to sleep
Forget the dreams
Of work place disorganisation
& mixed up appointments
Those guys
They were just trying
To catch you out
You don't need
Those sorts
Of so called colleagues
 |
| Available on Kindle |
Sunday, 25 October 2015
Lapped
The words change
Not that love or nature
Are any less strong an influence
Although the form is affected by technology
As well as further external abstract restrictions
To break out of this mode
To search again for deep man words
May require the creation of unknown paradigms
I can see my fingers
Little else is self evident beyond
I can hear my shirt ruffle
Yet no sounds of air conditioning
I could think of precise moments
Delve instead into the beauty of emotions
I could tell of power interruptions
Yet sell instead the rights to curious commotions
Aircraft engines are louder in the silence
Joyful conviviality is drowned out
By the absence of light or movement
The shadow-puppets loom with menace
Darkness knocks at my door
Holds herself steady by my window
In the quiet yard a candlelit conversation
Not that love or nature
Are any less strong an influence
Although the form is affected by technology
As well as further external abstract restrictions
To break out of this mode
To search again for deep man words
May require the creation of unknown paradigms
I can see my fingers
Little else is self evident beyond
I can hear my shirt ruffle
Yet no sounds of air conditioning
I could think of precise moments
Delve instead into the beauty of emotions
I could tell of power interruptions
Yet sell instead the rights to curious commotions
Aircraft engines are louder in the silence
Joyful conviviality is drowned out
By the absence of light or movement
The shadow-puppets loom with menace
Darkness knocks at my door
Holds herself steady by my window
In the quiet yard a candlelit conversation
|
| Available on Kindle |
Saturday, 24 October 2015
Reverence
Every day a colour
Even when that colour is black
All of time to cover
You know he is not coming back
Brotherly love
In the diner queue
The days move on
With Irish stew
Every day a colour
Even when that colour is black
No point mistreating her
In the roadside lovers shack
Even when that colour is black
All of time to cover
You know he is not coming back
Brotherly love
In the diner queue
The days move on
With Irish stew
Every day a colour
Even when that colour is black
No point mistreating her
In the roadside lovers shack
|
| Available on Kindle |
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