Marketing Men

I saw the mountain, close up
You saw the sheep, ridiculed
I photographed the fine grass
Let's not forage too deep

No thread for crossing out
So soon to be trailing back
All joy at the beachside pass
Dutchmen shoring up the creek

One Alexandria on the wall
Two shadows out for a stroll
All in all it is a four-star class
That is, before President De Gaulle

There is some secrecy, or maybe
It is reserve, anyway to be
To fall into ones own thoughts, without
Need of lookouts or faint-heart vigilantes

Then of course to take that drink
The one that loosens, allowing
Flotations and serendipitous
Occurrences to mask the doubts

I did see the mountain, clear
You did see the sheep, advertising
We travelled this one way together
And together tonight we'll sleep


Available on Kindle

Love Letter In A Bottle

Bottle
Half filled with sand and seashells

Bottle
Half filled with air and
The scrolled up love letter
From the unknown soldier's lover

Black pudding
Black pudding and bacon
As the razor-light rays
Frisk the mornings horizon

Today we should have been sailing
Sailing in search of stories
And in February it rains, and rains
It rains, it rains, it is black, and it rains

I am sat
On a rather swish velvet corduroy settee
Beside a scale-model, and storyboard
Of the steam cruiser Atlantis

I recognise this buildings timber structure
It is a facsimile of my health club
Which burnt to the ground last winter
Let's hope we are safer tonight with Jack Harris

We talked about the idea of bottles
Bottles where people placed notes
Notes with song titles
Also with their own story, or love letter

The bottles would grow in a line
At each gathering we would open one bottle
Play the song on the stereo
And read out the long lost love-letter


Available on Kindle

Gathering Isolation

I cry these tears
Because we didn't sit together
Through too many absent years

We cast our hearts on leather
Forging those separate minimal paths
How often we didn't hear each other's words

You close the door behind you
A calm descends
In that instant instant

I want the one leaf
I want the one tree
I want the one pebble on the beach

In that sense I suppose
You could call me
An isolationist

While for you
I would have to say
A gatherer

A gatherer of driftwood
A gatherer of lost souls
Such as I once was


Available on Kindle

Exposure

Just then
I was living in the past
Writing words to remember
That early summer afternoon

On vacation;
Still working you see
Yes;
Still time to make memories

I read so that I might write
Lucky a writer's policy of
Self delusion are limitless'
I write so that I might read

A writer let loose under the sheets
So to speak, no endgame in mind
Exclusive, intimate, brevity of joy
Sat together in the sauna

I was entirely naked
Your breasts
Your bare breasts
Enticing, alluring, joyful

Just then
I was living in the present
Thinking of words to remember
On that late afternoon in summer

Available on Kindle

Beautiful and Daft

A world of beautiful stuff
Beautiful stuff and daft stuff
Beautiful stuff; daft stuff

With Kate in our own
Private sauna at Bothy No.7
Naked and perspiring

Beautiful stuff

An email, from our friend John
Who says he has lost his wife Kathy
Could Kate do the funeral

Daft stuff

Watching the Libertines
Thanks to BBC IPlayer
Last night at Glastonbury

Beautiful stuff

News headlines
Which pronounce that
'Most of the dead in Tunisia
Are British'

Daft stuff

John; we send our love
Beautiful stuff and daft stuff
Beautiful stuff; daft stuff
Sometimes the words have to stop


Available on Kindle