Stillness from Turbulent Waters

There is no doubt within
There is no sign of darkness
Blue skies sing out loud
Thankful for the lark

Eighteen years come May
I walked the moorland water
Sky above my minded shroud
Lost in some evasion

Settlement carries many guises
Trees in bud, rain to sun
Companionship to love
Love, thankful for surprises

There is no doubt within
There are signs of lightness
Clear skies with silver clouds
Thankful for the key

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Modernity

Roll into the right hander, not a soul in the rear view mirror
Only wires and crows in the foreground, field and sky in the distance

It needs to be edgy; no sunflowers or bowls of roses
Switchback on the dirt-track, cheroots chew out of the smoke stack
Attacked by the knife pack who look you straight between the eyes
Don’t you give a damn; the whole damned can of worms is what we want
Leave him in the hedgerow, with the roadkill and the garbage
He never should have been there, stoned right out his mind
Hang on; we’re not after trouble; no one should have spoke of death

Lay back into the left hander, not a soul in the rear view
Only music and strong cigarettes, & the screams of passers by

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Strung Along

I am not, how would you say it, a Lute man
I care not a jot for things Elizabethan
A day at court is a chase more so of boredom
Minstrels and Jesters are to me antiquity

Yet I read that the man Shakespeare
Thought lute music capable of taking
One to a kind of ecstasy; a somewhat
Refreshing Happy Monday’s cover

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Rigour

The square sheep-pen
Made with straight slats of wood
The regular shape, a symbol for good

Into which no one fits comfortably
From where my pencil sets off uncomfortably
To see the turns around the bends

Up and down the Wolds
Freedom spurns the message sent
& still the curvature unfolds

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JD’s

It was your friend who told me, on Christmas Eve

We played football with your brothers, the two of you watched on
I chose you, you chose me, that’s how it often happens
Leadership became us, leaders of the pack
Excitement overcame us, no time to look on back

Look on back, as I do now; are you in a breakfast diner?
Maybe a motel room, on the plastic stack
Excitement overcame us, didn’t it?
Play it again, play that Fleetwood Mac, play that Chicken Shack

Look on back, as I do now, on the truth of procreation
The hearts that break on back
The order in attraction stacked; leadership easily became us, didn’t it?
Say it again; torn clothes, primeval attack; torn clothes, primeval attack

Each day you caught the bus to the catholic schools: Saint Augustine
Saint Gregory, Saint Bartholomew; each day, distraught, off at a tangent
I went, to extravagantly mime the Lords Prayer, in my grammar school
Soon to be comprehensive, where disorder was my fool

We were the tops, the bright spots that had not yet lost their voice
Yet neither had we found our apprehension; no contest then
To be in contention at the youth club discothèque
I was the DJ you were the dancer; no chance or so I thought

Until your second glance brought a smile
I smile again today, today, as I am now
On the road, the long straight road, the free flow of the early morning
As the actor reads, of his five years past from the view of Tintern Abbey

Today, as I am now, are you also? Take time to look on back
That we should have known the joy, played with that tune called love
It was your friend that told me “She really likes you, do you like her”
“Will you go out with her?”

You broke my heart
Broken so much I had to break another

Did you seek forgiveness?
Would my dear, that I could say today
Yes I forgive you

Do I seek forgiveness?
Would it be clearer if I said
Yes, can you forgive me

My broken heart spoke
Woken by the onset of the summer
Woken by the love of another

Did you think again, or were you pressed beyond redemption
Do I think to think again or am I past my previous past pretensions

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