The Vase Will Not Be Broken

Old smoke stacks are burning

Their last coals of the day

The fires will be allowed to die out overnight

In the morning the kiln doors will be broken open

The class will express wonderment

Congratulate each other

On their various works of art

The art teacher will ache

For the student teacher’s vase

She’s here on placement

Teaching history

History shows he will have his way

The class of 67 will tease her

She will break down in tears

The students will join forever friends

Form an internet community

The lustful liaison will bear fruit

Miss Kelly will push Mr Ward

In his wheelchair

Along Brighton promenade

He will have a hand made rug on his lap

A sensitive placement

Their vase, not unlike history

Their vase will not be broken

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Proposing

Now I’m used up

Can I use you

Can I write all sorts of stuff

White mini-skirt

Tight around your thighs

Heels only just holding on

Flying to every party

Catching-up

On all that you thought you’d missed

Old men can’t help

But be enchanted

When you blow smoke

Right through their eyes

Those younger men

Once besotted they can’t ever let it lie

The older guys

They help with your pretending

That life’s about something more

They blow to you

They go propose to you

Supposing that nothing’s ever new

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Abreast The Iron Radiator

I lay there sideways

Frying inside, lying on the floor

You were there

Lying somewhere, beyond the wall

Candles in the window

Silk, silk sheets, sunken satin bed

We lay apart, together yet miles away

You lie next door

Maybe that is all

All you ever wanted

To sleep alone, sleep for sure

Beyond those crazy midnight calls

Then the curse moved in with the treasure

Was it alcohol

Or was it rock and roll

Or was it just, just for sexual pleasure

In that museum place

A shelter, a rest

Away from London’s pouring roaring rain

Alongside the dinosaur

Abreast the iron radiator

You fondled my balls

My fondled balls

Were put to your test

Before long we were lovers

Restaurant tables

Vomiting at the seashore

Caught up completely

We were little mother-fuckers

Now it’s over, it’s gone, it’s over

Our stations are cold

Our dreamscapes we’ve strolled

We’ve created bronze from gold

Yet still the physical goes on

Last rites

Even after it’s over

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I am Out Of Here

Your needs made clear
It's time to steer
A brand new course
Some fresh resource

I am on my way out of here
Where I go I have no fear
No desires lurking
Just keep on working

Keep on skirting around

What it was that bound me
Surround myself, be impressed
Forget, forgotten already the rest

You can check, you can test
I've finished with feeling second best
It's time to be clear
This path I steer

This lurking fear
This skirtings dear
Sounds around
Outward bound

I am impressed to clear
No more those words I fear
I am out of here

Yes, I am chock out of revere

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Airport

Afternoon

Falling towards evening

Passengers boarding

Lover’s dreaming

Afternoon

Sitting there

Gazing stare

Waiting for boarding

Feeling belief in

Sitting there

Fly away

Escape today

Horizons new

Seascape view

Fly away

Rambling rose

No one knows

Your crimson clothes

Disguised from foes

My rambling rose

Stories told

Dreams unfold

Evenings cold

Sunsets of gold

Stories did unfold

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