Naked
Never
Except forever
When we were lovers
Together we discovered
We smothered our bodies with love and lust
Naked
Cleverly
We revealed
Our concealed others
Together we stroked and smoked
Hoped without talk to recover our lust and love
Naked
Together
Under natures covers
We were, weren’t we, we were smothered lovers
Wobbly
Sleeping together
Keep your distance
Close your eyes to realise
The futile situation
A brutal station
Mutual pain
Acrid Rain
Singles dance
Lost romance
Do not touch
Do not chance
Being kind
Keep a cool mind
Calm emotions
Steady nerves
Don’t stir it up
Do not stir it up
So tired
Little time left to sleep
Anxieties awakened
Temperance shaken
Sleeping together
Oddly
Wobbly
Somewhere on the M5
Around Taunton way I’d say
The morning after nothing had happened
The blue, clear blue sky
Matched the mood of release
Relief from those scattered sheets
That dripping tap
Shrinking threads and wasting washers
Now I remember
Before Bristol for sure, the afternoon before
The night when nothing happened
The grey sea mist from the estuary
Matched the mood of doubt, unknown quarry
Set up for the fall, recall the previous dishes.
That silken strap
Silken threads and tummy squashes
Now I remember
Down among the Chilterns
The evening, the actual evening, the non event
If it meant anything, It meant nothing to me
The wind drifted, the rainbow lifted
Lifted on moor and gorse
No recourse, no negotiation, a stated situation
Inclined by inclination I’m listening to Bukowski
You’re watching television, you’re watching TV
Now I remember
Some place obscure
Wasted time for sure
Sex, whore, wife, life
How would it feel to think your wife a whore
Lore would life suffice such a trice
Would the expectation stride in tight
At the fleeting sight
Of the translucent gossamer light
Just along the A5
Past Weston Park
An early morning drive
Ripe to be surprised
Inner self or outer self
Collective unconscious
Or something deeper
Daffodils in bloom deep within
The sunken soul
Like a ghost
Or a drowned man floating to the surface
The movement was a continuum
Without jar or jolt, the rising
Om, Om, Om for a lost love
Later, in peace, quiet, calm, tranquillity
Om cannot resurrect
From the pit of the body to the tip of the mind
There is no traffic to carry the urn of any kind
The ashes have flown on the wind
Unable to rescind the cindered lingered candle
A flickering, flickering, sickening, failing glow
Extinguished, vanquished, decayed
A dying atmospheric orb
But it did happen
And for that I thank more than I can ever know
I write these words of thanks
To tell you, of what I do not know
Is that how the flower feels in pollination
Some union with an Albion of kind
Was it received or reciprocated or was it bounded
Then bandaged; was it unrequited love
Like the kite blown along the breeze
Or Donald Shimoda in timeless flight
It is a Messiah’s handbook which helps me discover
To recover the greetings of souls; souls meeting
Greeting together as deep below; below as above
Mist
Morning around dawn
Waters edge ripple
Moorhens dip, swans neck’s flip
Springs nature ramble trip
Before the morning tipple
Mist, silver grey, early day
Fields of hay, curds and whey, mist
Morning
Dawning around daylight
Shafts of light, lover’s flight
Losing sight, ever might
A little tight
Drizzle another tipple
Mist, smoky haze, early days
Funny ways, window bays, mist
Waters edge ripple
Scattered pebbles and tickled trout
Vibrating pulsating waves, waves about
Echoes shout; ale and stout, ale and stout
Cast a clout
Undress and pour another tipple
Mist, white noise, kick and poise
Slick Latin boys, big girl’s toys, mist
Moorhens dip, swan neck’s flip
Underneath, above, below as above
Preening dove, fallen love
Push and shove
Form a queue
Queuing for another tipple
Mist, sea frets and cloud covered sunsets
Place your bets, take the test, mist
Springs nature ramble trip
Refreshing souls feeding salvation
Wonderment creation, the crosses station
Exceeding expectation, tingling sensation
Tipping at Temptation Lake
Aching for another tipple
Mist, fuddled mind, blinded from behind
Forgotten kind, clocks to wind, mist
Before the morning tipple
Last night’s wasted way
Yesterday’s forgotten day
Job gone, no more pay
House lost, no where to stay
Except for another tipple, oh pray
Mist
