Another Invitation

Where are you now
Write to me more often
Where are we now
Softly spoken
Where I am
Fairly often
There you are then
Nothings broken
A writer’s invitation
Simulating tactile sensation
The coffee’s black
In Massarella’s café
The light is bright
Behind the lens
I smile, awhile
In moments of magic
Where are you now
Write to me more often
Where are we now
Excitedly spoken
Knocks on the head
Some say I’m still suffering
Knocks on the head
Woken, spoken with beauty
Where are you know
Write to me more often
Where I am now

Panicking slowly

Concentrate

Imagine a transparent mind
Postulate, bring to life

Disordered thoughts reside
Motivate, drive me madly
Introversion, extrovertly
A birth is more special
Than I can yet contemplate
A life is more special
Than I care to admit
How to release
Unwise ineffectual pressures
But retain, explain
Love’s compassion learning

Where are you now
Write to me more often
Grow me
Slowly
I feel to exude high expectation
Is this received, perceived, untrue
You seem able, stable, of invention
Thoughtful, real, true, you, you…
Supportive or disruptive
Challenging or cajoling
Balanced or biassed
Me or you

Energy flows
The picture grows

The smile returns
Doubts burn away
Where are you now
Speak to me
Speak to me more often
Kick me
Metaphorically
Engage me
Share my excess of sensuality
Draw me in, repeatedly
Tell me
What I should give
How you, how you demand of me
To reach, within you
Command, perhaps
On reflection

The flow should meander
A little
Where are you now
Still with me
With me more often
Being
Distraction
Extracting self from self-satisfaction
Self-sufficiently
So so efficiently unaware
People need people
Communication complements consumption
Interaction is
The second oxygen of life
Where are you now
Will you be
My

One and only

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Graham Or Is It John

Graham or John, where are you from
Your picture is so, so characterful and strong
Your coat was red, yet you never said
You'd been here before, walked out the door
The zephyr blew, the jeans were new
The memory cradle, leaving the stable
A stable boy, a big girl’s toy
Open top sport, not your sort
White cotton shirt, does hurting hurt
Passing on by, tearful lover’s cry
Turning eighteen, it’s about being seen
Crocodile shoes, silver studs your dues
Sail by swan in stature, its essence you capture
No more to aspire, beyond your desire 

Taking everyone’s side, on the Cadillac ride

The girl on your arm, besotted by charm
Pretty pink dress, virginity suppressed
Hair flicked back, listening to Chicken Shack
Painting your picture, writing your scripture
You carry confidence with supreme diffidence
Believing the dream, selling the sheen
Envy engagement, edge endows enragement
The cockerel quietens, the peacock whitens
The cloud of smoke, the oarsman’s silver stroke
Waters wash over the discarded cloak
He walked right in, he couldn't swim
He never spoke, you missed the joke
Nothings real, from our dreams we steal
Joseph's Technicolor Dream-Coat
That’s our conscience, missing the boat

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Frowns of a Clown

Biko; back in the USSR
Biko; Gabriel cries from afar
Lynott is a rocker and a roller
With his friend Moore
Walking the Parisienne Walkways
Sliding steel guitars
Teardrops on the terrace
Springtime is for lovers
Have you been there too
In or out of love
Morning suns keep rising
Cloud clearing skies
Beneath the zephyr breeze
And smiles keep on
The frowns of a clown cannot hide them
Some call it deity
I prefer majesty
In the singular moment
There really only is I
No friends, no family, no colleague
Aristotle: how do you reply
Back then to the early morning
Sunrise and wakening eyes
A day clear of conscience
A day beginning to cry

And crying has led to change
Mandela follows Biko

Peace continues to be sought
Thanks to these men of principle

Man’s mind is not easily bought
Man’s mind is no longer so easily caught
Meditate on that thought
Wish upon a star
Dream the everlasting dream
Jung and Munch are memories
The unconscious mind
The visual scream
Moments only in the greater scheme
Thirty years of passing
Thirty years of thoughts
Packed inside these words
Packed inside this mind
The clarity of vision
The splendid hopes of youth
How best to resurrect
Back in search of truth
Compromise and insincerity
That is the game I've learned to play
Bending rules not breaking
Interrogate without integrity is what they say
So move away from the men in suits
Move away to follow friendship
Believe once more in Aristotle
Let pleasure be here amongst you

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Bag Job

The half-baked golden moon
In a star struck, star spangled sky
That incontinence calling

To be at one with nature
A wee in the night

A wee long look at the night sky
Moonset at midnight
With October smelling of new mown hay
Driving past presence
Escaping into the day
In touch with such wonderment
How can anyone believe

By, it is such wonderment
Oh, oh what a relief
Moon after midnight
Golden orb of redness and light
Walking on globules of goodness
Opening to kindness

Hidden deep
With distance, for kindness
With but words, for release
Walking in wonderment
Oh no, I’m sorry, it is beginning to seep

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Songbird Sleeping

Like a willow weeping
Or a songbird sleeping
Like a time remembered, so clearly
Or a time you came so close, so nearly
When the cold waves came crashing
Tethered nights with dark winds thrashing
Under stars and half-moons rising
Skimming pebbles half surprising
Thurlestone sands

So so far from Thurlestone School
Only needed one more broken rule
Under stars laughter hides the fear
Sinister is the minister that does not hear
And that is just what we do
Me, you, we two
Like willows weeping
Like songbirds sleeping
Another time you just smiled
Along the golden mile
Jack the lad in life and laughter
Getting, impressing

Whoever it was you were after
But in the camouflage of undercover
Wanting to be more than just one other
Needing to prescribe a different being
Creating images for onlookers seeing
Not knowing what is truly showing

Or who cares enough to be knowing
Designer clothes are no compensation
Neither is narcotics a true sensation
Life lived in void space nine
Way apart, abreast from time
Like a willow weeping
Like a songbird sleeping
The guitar played blues and soul
The band embraced the wrecking ball
Earlier the songs they were engaging
Memories and old emotions

They also were raging
You never meant to part
So why did you start
Drifting into the grey abyss
Forgetting what you would miss
Climbing mountains and missing molehills
Moving in motion, but leaving picture stills
That was what you wanted to do
To create something, well me too
More than simply nine to five
More feeling dead than alive
Like the willow weeping
Like the songbird sleeping
Evoking outspoken jokes
Handing round the Spanish smokes
Jack Daniels and Stella ice

Heading off in search of spice
Catch a late-night cab
Once again you’re jack the lad
Only this time come tomorrow
Laughter will turn to sorrow
Deeper down into your own depression
Caught inside your own oppression
Not able to imagine

How to change your state
You've lost that path to the golden gate
And all around everyone else is trying
Yet you, you are the only one not crying
You are not the willow weeping
No more are you the songbird sleeping

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