Two miles to the airport
Ten miles to the sea
Six more months to court
These final thoughts
Final thoughts of you, by me
Smoke from the chimney
Dust on the aeroplanes
Counting up the losses
But altogether forgetting
Altogether forgetting the gains
Once more to be the pilgrim
Once more to be down on my knees
I have lost that level of humour
Where with you I was able to tease
With you I was totally able to tease
I have lost the lightness, the forgiveness
I am lost with some kind of disease
It's about being unsteady
Not being ready for what comes my way
Not at all ready for what comes my way
It's about the bed we shared
The night times when we cared
The love which won't go away
The lust which claims the day
The lust which always claims the day
Memories undoubtedly
Neither clear nor true
We didn't make it to the big time
I don't know if others do
I don't know if many others do
Instead we fell off the fine line
We slipped all the way through
What is left are the hollows
There are no sapphires, no swirls
Absolutely no sapphires or swirls
What's left then to follow
Are those unsent letters
Scribed in secret to be posted
To a once pretty young girl
Scented for a once pretty young girl
Monday, 1 July 2019
Sunday, 30 June 2019
The Bends Are Smooth
The A-Road is straight
The tarmacadam is true
I feel ok to say these words
Holding on to some ideal of you
The bends are smooth
The morning sky is a perfect blue
I feel ok with these words
These words especially for you
The yews are spreading
In the old churchyard
I turned over the bedding
Not to be caught off guard
The rapeseed is growing
Each day more so by the yard
The North winds are blowing
Once more I've shown my cards
I declared my hand
Without saying a single thing
I wasn't making a stand
Nor even trying to be King
It was a cry from the soul
All torment finally accrued
It was a cry that after all
Was all I was left able to do
Yet I didn't leave spaces
For you to wander through
No I tied up the tired laces
Tinged with Yves-Klein-Blue
But I did leave out
Whatever it was I was not to do
Also I did not work out
What to leave behind for you
The tarmacadam is true
I feel ok to say these words
Holding on to some ideal of you
The bends are smooth
The morning sky is a perfect blue
I feel ok with these words
These words especially for you
The yews are spreading
In the old churchyard
I turned over the bedding
Not to be caught off guard
The rapeseed is growing
Each day more so by the yard
The North winds are blowing
Once more I've shown my cards
I declared my hand
Without saying a single thing
I wasn't making a stand
Nor even trying to be King
It was a cry from the soul
All torment finally accrued
It was a cry that after all
Was all I was left able to do
Yet I didn't leave spaces
For you to wander through
No I tied up the tired laces
Tinged with Yves-Klein-Blue
But I did leave out
Whatever it was I was not to do
Also I did not work out
What to leave behind for you
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Saturday, 29 June 2019
Though Some Stayed Away
Like many before him, also many more after
He came to the area of low-cost housing
He came for the pace of low-cost life
Yet at what cost to him
At what cost
That his mind no longer rhymed
He took centre stage a star in their midst
They'd had no glory until their life he kissed
He kissed with his singing
He kissed with his songs
He might that have missed the climbing
He might have missed the throng
His words were of sadness
His words were of joy
His words showed off his madness
Of missing the last decoy
His friends and family visited
Though some stayed away
I don't expect that either you
Or he would be riveted
By this choice of words
That I instantly replay
But we all end up somewhere
And we all have to cry
For that place where we choose
To try to find our pot of gold
To go cold on the passion-filled
Passionate doubts of the past
To watch the waves again roll
Even to think that they won't last
He came to the area of low-cost housing
He came for the pace of low-cost life
Yet at what cost to him
At what cost
That his mind no longer rhymed
He took centre stage a star in their midst
They'd had no glory until their life he kissed
He kissed with his singing
He kissed with his songs
He might that have missed the climbing
He might have missed the throng
His words were of sadness
His words were of joy
His words showed off his madness
Of missing the last decoy
His friends and family visited
Though some stayed away
I don't expect that either you
Or he would be riveted
By this choice of words
That I instantly replay
But we all end up somewhere
And we all have to cry
For that place where we choose
To try to find our pot of gold
To go cold on the passion-filled
Passionate doubts of the past
To watch the waves again roll
Even to think that they won't last
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| Available from Amazon |
Friday, 28 June 2019
The What
While I live in the county
Of glorious big skies
I still search for the bounty
Heaven only knows the reasons why
Heaven only knows
The what, or the where, or the why
I drive on the smaller roads
With trees to either side
It's an odd life that I lead
For who on earth really knows
Who on earth actually decides
Who should give, or who provides
Of glorious big skies
I still search for the bounty
Heaven only knows the reasons why
Heaven only knows
The what, or the where, or the why
I drive on the smaller roads
With trees to either side
It's an odd life that I lead
For who on earth really knows
Who on earth actually decides
Who should give, or who provides
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| Available from Amazon |
Thursday, 27 June 2019
I Don't Have The Peace
I am saddened by your lack of response, I am tormented by your lack of response, Yet I know that in the words of our favoured Candide it is probably for the best.
Yes, it probably is for the best, but that doesn't make me any less tormented; no, that certainly does not make me any less sad or demented.
I will though carry on with my words, right up to the last, I might even second guess, what words you might have pressed into my half-life of fantasy and despair.
In those days, which panned out grand with reasonable repair; to stand on the seashore, or to climb up the dunes, forever to see more than the end of our good fortunes.
So I go into the morning, into the beginning of the day, I go there with a warning, for I can't ever be expected to do any more than stay.
The car behind passes me by, then edges me on, I read from the road sign but I read it way wrong, the road is to be closed soon, in about another week.
New pathways I will follow, new pastures I will seek; I don't have the peace, gifted by a morning meditation, on these early starts for my long drive to my work.
I don't have the doubts of the now closed-shop federation, I don't have the reluctance, nor the reasons to shirk.
In a short while this will be over, that's why I write to you so, for I don't want to end, no I do not want to end without ever letting you know, that yes, sadly, I am letting you go.
Yes, it probably is for the best, but that doesn't make me any less tormented; no, that certainly does not make me any less sad or demented.
I will though carry on with my words, right up to the last, I might even second guess, what words you might have pressed into my half-life of fantasy and despair.
In those days, which panned out grand with reasonable repair; to stand on the seashore, or to climb up the dunes, forever to see more than the end of our good fortunes.
So I go into the morning, into the beginning of the day, I go there with a warning, for I can't ever be expected to do any more than stay.
The car behind passes me by, then edges me on, I read from the road sign but I read it way wrong, the road is to be closed soon, in about another week.
New pathways I will follow, new pastures I will seek; I don't have the peace, gifted by a morning meditation, on these early starts for my long drive to my work.
I don't have the doubts of the now closed-shop federation, I don't have the reluctance, nor the reasons to shirk.
In a short while this will be over, that's why I write to you so, for I don't want to end, no I do not want to end without ever letting you know, that yes, sadly, I am letting you go.
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| Available from Amazon |
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