Poems

Poems

Hero’s Return

 

Young eyes, peer, sparrow tight, at the window

Anticipating Father’s wheels,

revolving,

click, click, click along the patchwork pavement

Past, a dark cavernous archway

Stables of poultry and equine

The old cattle trough

The brown factory gates

Where overalled men kick footballs

To ease the day’s path

The cornered Church, crucified by time’s nonobservance

Yardmen, drip green and black from greasy oil-stained hands

Tiny feet skid along linoleum

Towards the big unknown

Will he reach the two legged chariot before the Hero’s grand return;

And perch on the crossbar between Apollo’s arms?

Red Dust

 

From a land where nothing grows

Just flesh from bloodied soil

Born from the sacrifice of souls

Paid with precious stones and oil

Red dust

Dead earth

Old life

New birth

I sing a song of simple tunes

Echoes of ancient truth

Free the future with our deeds

Reap the harvest of our youth

Red dust

Dead earth

Old life

New birth

I am from a land where nothing grows

Just flesh from bloodied soil

Born from the sacrifice of souls

Paid with precious stones and oil

 

Three Faces of Kate

Yours was the face

That took me to another place

Every sleepy Sunday morning with kisses and treats

And the soft sweet sparkle of love in your eyes

Yours was the voice

I fell in love with

When I heard your songs for the first time

Too old for someone your age

That sound of innocence and awakening

Yours was the face

I never knew at all

Except through a picture on my wall

Days of hope and promise still on your lips

 

The Scope

There is nothing left to hide now

The Scope, like some eternal truth does not lie

Its exposes

It lays bare

It spikes the bubble of my skin-worn deception

 

It looks like an old hanging scrotum now

This sack,

That has turned me upside down

Sunk me to my knees

Arrived without consent

Wearing the coat of immunity while waiting in reception

 

They dance around me now

Blood, 4 bags full, fed into my veins

At needle point

My every joint

Switched off from the source

 

They gather with their clipboards now

Picking over my spread bones

Against the x-rayed light

Bit by bit

Drip by drip

My spilling blood answered with a practiced syntax

 

I am child again now,

Reduced, amongst these municipal Gods, my fate transferred

Lines and tubes

Buckets and bags

My body reduced to elementary plumbing

 

I will resurrect now, you’ll see

My strong self will suckle

At the fount of life

And with spread wings, soar up,

Towards a bright smiling sun

First Kiss

 

She squeezed beside my Elvis leg

Hearts leaping in unison

Under cover of the filmic night

A smokey fog

Of dreams and romance

 

I wrapped my arm

Inch by agonising inch

Around her shoulders,

Fearing  rejection,

And emotions that feel less urgent now

 

Successful, I turned and invitation greeted me,

We kissed,

And slumbered back to our dark companion

Above, below and both sides

 

I can hear my neighbours

I can hear them using the toilet.

Defecation has a rhythm all of its own

That’s him, he’s always more noisy

Whoosh! There it goes deposited into the Thames

I can hear them walking about

There they go again

Why do they have to thump around like a wild herd of Elephants?

What’s she doing marching back and forth?

Do you think it’s some kind of kinky sex game?

Maybe they are both on strong medication?

That can do strange things to people

I once knew someone who thought the carpet was a large piece of cheese

Ending up on a Surgeon’s table having fibrous material extracted from his stomach

There they go again!

I blame the craze for wooden flooring

There ought to be a law against it

Is that the sound of a vacuum cleaner?

Why are they doing the cleaning at 6am on the Sunday morning is nothing sacred anymore?

And what’s that weird rubbing noise?

Quiet, What was that? Was that a dog barking?

Was it from above or next door?

I didn’t think they had a dog next door?

There! Did you hear that?

I’m sure that was a dog barking

What’s that, a knock on the door?

Don’t answer it!

It might be that nutcase from thirty One

He’s an odd one all right, an unsociable bugger, never says hello

and has those funny eyes that seems to look in four and five directions at the same time,

how is that physically possible?

It could turn nasty, just stay quiet and don’t move.

Tap, tap, tap!

Don’t move, he’ll get bored in a minute and go away

What right has he got in any case banging on our front door like some neighbourhood bully?

Right, that’s it – I’m going to the door and gonna give that bastard a piece of my mind

“Oh, hello dear, No John lives next door number 35”

Why is it, that whenever that John fella has visitors they always knock on our door?

I think they are having some kind of laugh at our expense

Oh, God, there they the Elephants again stampeding

Oh, I don’t believe it he’s in the toilet again

And that’s definitely a dog

Listen it’s barking at that visitor I sent there.

Twenty Eight Stars

 

‘Wonderful’, she wrote

Across the typed manuscript, the insane wife

Left to rot,

By the old carcass, the anti-semite

The Bard whom the public schools named God

I gather thoughts like flowers on my bed and

Count the twenty eight stars

 

Related to an old Russian Tzar

Down on his luck,

Who backed a blind horse, 3:30 at Chepstow

And once sipped coffee in a Turkish Bazaar

With a 3 legged dog from Grimsby

That wore a patch over one eye and called itself ‘Pirate’

 

‘Good Morning’,  I greet Armitage Shranks

Inspecting its contents with a hidden torch,

What colour will my future be today?

They say black is all the rage

I contemplate on my bed and

Count the twenty eight stars

Your Proud White Shirt

 

You were a world apart

A Prince upon the ball

No God could know

How it breaks my heart

To see your rise and fall

 

From northern coalface struck,

A bright star with bad luck,

Inside a burning light,

To set a million dormant Albion hearts alight

 

A drink or ten to wash the day away

Now there are no more games to play

That flood of tears failed to heal the hurt

Did the blood and pain strain your proud white shirt?

 

You were a world apart

A Prince upon the ball

No God could know

How it breaks my heart

To see your rise and fall

 

A drink or ten to wash the day away

Now there are no more games to play

That flood of tears failed to heal the hurt

Did the blood and pain strain your proud white shirt?

 

I cried that day with you

I died that day with you

 

Nothing is Sacred

 

You enter my dark corners

My secrets rooms

My personal history

Am I the willing victim?

Photos complete with signatures

On display, my life, in neon:

Nothing is sacred

In neon:

Nothing is sacred

 

I am the spy who spills my own beans

Down the front of my favourite shirt

Staining my past

Staining my present

Staining my future

With multi-coloured lies and deception

 

Remember everyone is available now

Everything is for sale

On display, my life, in neon:

Nothing is sacred

Nothing is

Nothing

 

 

Your Truth Resides With Me

No great scribes shall write eulogies for you
Great crowds won’t chant your name
But they all ignore
What a life is really for
Your truth will reside with me

Oh, dear Rose, the world was like your clothes
Sometimes it just seemed too big
But for all that you touched
I thank you so much
Your truth will reside with me

Stars shall explore
But none as bright as you
Your light shall shine on through
And when life is unkind
There’s a place that I can find
Where your truth resides with me

All Year Long

At first;
Heat blasts my skin with cancer rays
Drying my mouth
I sup cool liquid from a can

Then;
The world is under camouflage
Dry leaves,
Drop like dawn soldiers at Passendale

Next;
I witness the death of daylight
Like crosses on Calvary,
Electric Pylons silhouetted against the early closing sky

Until;
My tempers rise and greet
A murmuration of starlings, shapeshifting, to lift a descending sun

But most of all
I think about you,
All year long

Inhalation

I was in Parvatasana,
Arms turned out, elbows locked, legs kneeling.
I noticed the floor was dirty,
My thoughts idled on a school Assembly Hall circa 1973
Suddenly,
A knee was placed firmly in the full of my back:
‘Now don’t forget to inhale’ instructed the teacher
As my trunk was extended towards the ceiling,
Revealing;
The space,
That philosophy and religion can only dream about.
That moment,
That very inhalation,
Led me to you my darling,
Without it,
There would be no place called love
Where we could live.

Look at Me

Hey, look at me
Hanging myself out to dry
For the whole damn world to see
Let me excite myself
Let me tell you about my pleasures
Let me lead you to my secret places

Hey, look at me
Hanging myself out to fry
For the whole damn world to see
Examine my private parts
Cuddle up to my desires
Lift the lid on my secrets

Hey, look at me
Hanging myself out to die
For the whole damn world to see