And Houses

I was going to build something, using words; I had already rearranged two long phrases, to be used as embankments.

I went to an old friends house, he was making breakfast, his small children played on the floor, one of them weed, and a pool of pee coloured water, began to cover the floor.

I said it was the child, but my friend thought it was the washing machine leaking, in the room next door.

I drove the builder's lorry down the cut de sac then along the avenue (I used to live in both places). I had to be really careful, because there were children playing in the road.

Outside my old house there was a very tall pile of builder's rubble, as though an extension was being constructed. I was scared, I thought the pile was going to tumble over.

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Songs, And Books, And Houses

I'm at the airport now

Really my life has been so so very easy

I'm in no rush in the mornings now

I'm happy to let the breeze make me feel so so easy

The young man rushes by

I couldn't even say your name

The young man fusses, wondering why

Was it something to do with life's endless game

I returned the book

What was that all about

Did you take a second look

Did you hear me shout out

I heard nothing

I hear no call out

I handed you the book

What was that all about

I handed back the book

What was that all about

I handed back the book

It was the first gift, when we started out

I handed back the book

What was that all about

I handed back the book

Bought in Santa Monica, without doubt

I handed back the book

What was that all about

I handed back the book

Five Memos For The Millennium

Within, without; I went by the airport

Without a single thought of Jersey

Yet here, only half a mile down the road

My thoughts are already at Mon Plaisir

I'm on the motorway now

The cruise control is set

I sort of second guessed

Mon Plaisir was beautiful for you too

Perhaps even more peaceful, and inspiring

Before I arrived on your doorstep

When you had created a homely space

For your friends, and your young family

To that end was I a disruption

Did I corrupt your innocence

To that end just what did I tip up

Did I not offer any more sound sense

I'm not always too good in the moment

Sometimes I struggle to concentrate

Take last Friday, when I saw you

I couldn't find the time, I was in such a state

Something to do with inappropriate preparation

Something to do with my own confused situation

My less than hopeless social skills;

Once more reaching for the out door, before fully entering the in door

I want to strip you back

I want to clear away the make up

I want to strip you, down to the barest tack

I want to make you, to raise your breasted cup

Why didn't we ever find such freedom

What was it always defence or attack

Why did we tie the knots of freedom

Why did we not find our way back

How fortunate am I

To have someone who cuts so deep into my psyche

How fortunate am I

To have someone speaking to me and my Reiki

Now it's a song

Which I don't really want to talk over

A song

Which very much makes me think of you

You are my Last Of The English Roses

What was I, before I ever thought of you

You are my Last Of The English Roses

What was I, before I ever thought of you

You are my Last Of The English Roses

What was I, before I ever thought of you

You are my Last Of The English Roses

What was I, before I ever thought of you

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Performer

I am awkward with my idiosyncratic anguish
Standing so unusually still, stubborn as a mule
I do not know which way to turn, which way to look
Always absent in a crowd, until the liquor kicked in
And the tongues, naturally, started wagging

I am mute with my indefinite article, or past participle
Brutal as the philanthropic benefactor
Who pulled the rug from under my feet
Always berating myself, instead of being fair
Friendly, and open minded

I am touched that you found my spoken
Word substantive; courageous as a lion
I clawed myself back with a shake of my mane
Always alone on the pedestal, that is until your breath
Of applause caught me blowing in the wind

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Orator

I drive beside the blossom
I drive aside the daffodils
I spoke so well, last Friday
Or so I thought
Yet I'm not so sure
That my partner thought it so
She said that I had to be clearer
With pronunciation
She said it was difficult
To hear the essence
The feeling, the truth
Of what I thought

I said that somehow it was easier
To speak to an audience
Than simply to talk into a microphone
I said that I thought
That it improved my intonation
With faces to keep engaged
Yet I know that it's all pretty useless
And I know
That it's not going to go so very far
And I know
That most of it is just nonsense anyway

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Dreams, And Minutes

I got Cherry Cola
By a not unusual mistake
I listen to, soak into
Open Season for My Heart

I dreamt of you last night
Was it a fake dream
As we, half-intently, built
Our snow house in the park

The sky is blue
The road is clear
I'm on my way
Whatever else lies near

Minute by minute
I feel your spark
Minute by minute
I go further into that dark

Minute by minute
I lose your spark
Minute by minute
I move further from the park

This is the clarity of spring
This thing I bring
These songs I sing
They carry the clarity of spring

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