Oh Dear
In the night of broken dreams I cannot sleep
I wake to find my love beside me fast asleep
She defends the right to stay awareness-free
She softly breathes the smile that dwells in me
And let me tell you of her skin
As smooth as silk and dark as sin
Let me tell you of her hair
Black as night to frame
Her naked truths lay bare
Her twinkling eyes outshine the brightest star
Her lips softer than the rose, by far
She is my love, my angel in disguise
She spreads her wings and holding me, she flies...
As she lies beside me unaware
In silent dreams we cannot share
I want to wake her from her slumber
And make her fuck a wet cucumber
I'd like to take her strap on cock
As I wank into my sock
(oh dear, well you can't take this crap too seriously, can you?)
Born on a Sunday (Grinning out the box)
I was born on a Sunday, someday Ma, I swear I’ll pay you back
I was born on a Sunday, someday Ma, I pray I’ll get you back
I ain’t takin nothing with me, just this heavy load upon my back
I once met a man, man I gave him all I got
He spoke no word of thanks, not even smiled, just took the lot
And I had plans for my daughter; shouldn’t have ought to, now she’s gone
I had hopes for my sister, and how I’ve missed her now she’s gone
No warm mama by my side, there’s no one with me for the ride
I’m not smiling ‘cos I’m happy, I’m just grinning out the box
We’re not smiling ‘cos we’re happy, we’re just grinning out the box
Big black crow he goes pickin’, pluckin’, pickin’ on some dead dog’s eye
Big black crow he’s just a finger lickin’ as I pass him by
He don’t care for my shufflin’ he just cares I’m still alive
I was born on a Sunday, but I ain’t ever been to church
Our preacher’s wife’s gone missin’, she gone left him in the lurch
And the cops they’re not religious, they won’t even do a search
She says she never loved him, she just grew bored with life
You can hear her pillow sermon, but don’t want her for your wife
Good and honest people end up grinning in a box
Too many of my brothers make a living breaking rocks
They are chained to their existence,
Don’t even hear time ticking from the clocks
I was born on a Sunday, someday Ma, I swear I’ll pay you back
I was born on a Sunday, someday Ma, I pray I’ll get you back
I ain’t takin nothing with me, just this heavy load upon my back
Thread
If sweet death should steal
My kiss tonight
No doubt a thread
Of my life will trace
Its moist course down
Your soft cheek
No doubt a thread
Of my life will remain
Unfrayed in the twine
Of memory that binds
Me to you
If I should don the cloak
Of shadows, spare me
No grief for you
Shall see by the pale light
I found no doubt
That our destiny hung
By a thread of life
The Last Poem
Do you remember the day we fled
To London, two truant teens
With fiery passions fed?
‘Millennium Bridge’ had not the slightest sway
As we held close and trembled
With the promise of that day
We would fly our love,
Bright flag for all to see
Instead we kept it furled
As we strolled self-consciously
Yet, as I turned to speak
I saw you’d been mislaid;
In seeking out a bridge too far
Your loss, my price to pay
Together all of two months to the day
Two months to forge the type of bond
That will not melt away
Fixed in my heart, this much is true
I may have crossed an iron bridge
But I cannot get over you
We stole into the Tate,
Andy’s craft and toll
Both open to debate
With one eye on the time
Like perpetrators of some crime
And tried to understand the art
Of trying to understand
The stirrings of the heart
We carved our embrace so carefully
Born to deny some other’s trust
Yet I’d have borne you to Lewes to see
The Kiss, instead it was brought to us
If now I cannot be with you or cause a second glance
Remember with your smile, the gift we shared,
Pure love, flown in the face of circumstance
Heat
You can see heat
It rises from hot surfaces
Rippling and distorting
Transmuting solids to liquid
Heat transforms certainty to mirage
You can’t hold a mirage
‘Though you wish you could
It disappears when you need it the most
I can’t stay too long in the heat
Shall I live my life in the shade?
Parts Therapy
There’s a part of me that wants you
Thinks of you constantly.
Another makes me suffer
Would have me feel guilty.
There’s a part of me that questions
My motives all the time.
Another screams its innocence
For love is not a crime.
The knight in shining armour
Would claim you for his prize.
The child wants you to hold him,
Give comfort when he cries.
The misanthrope would glumly walk
The optimist replies,
‘Hold firm, for soon will come the day,
You’ll have her by your side.’
But I can’t bear for us to be apart
When you make me feel so whole,
Your warmth sparks fire in my heart.
You kiss my very soul.
Self Expression Gone
self expression
Nothing artistic about my father
Yet, a creative genius
He created me
gone
Ten years of staying away
Should I now rush
To my father’s demise?
The Village
Lack lustre lives in cluster
Around the village square
Myopic, any topic
Let’s prove we really care
Rural agenda mind bender
Restoration of the Grange
Support and court all blood sport
Let’s fight every change
Bring and buy Christian lie
In self-righteous rows
Every Sunday, such a fun day
Imbibe … religion flows
A Feral Dance
Her Gypsy dance steals me away
Lissom with feral, feline grace
She stalks her prey
I pray with atheistic zeal to be
Entranced, transfixed, devoured
Oh, let it be
Sparkling, charcoal eyes to teach me rhythm
One look, one touch, my thoughts in schism
Smiling lips that bid me drink deep
She whirls through my soul, awake, asleep
I hold no Truth yet in her embrace, I believe
Still, my wanderlust past shall cause me to leave
But I, well-versed in her Gypsy lore
Depart only to return once more.
Freedom of the Press
Words scratch their taloned certainty through human pulp
Vanity made sharp, honed, maliciously manicured.
These are the weapons of mass destruction
Here lies the cause of every scar…
Spark the thought,
Ignited hands encircle literary pyre,
Quills ironically record the deed,
Minds flashing, eyes enlightening
Tongues wagging, teeth chewing
The last glowing embers of verbal feast,
As we play victim, and they play beast.
Freedom of the press,
To distort, delete and generalise,
And thus, us oppress, no less.
Indian Summer
Heat that cruelly bows the infant’s head,
Hot breath of dust spits needles to his face,
Clothes cling clammy to his bowing frame,
Death and decay provide the stains
To mar the beauty of this place.
Roasted human pachyderms, yield like cattle
To gathering clouds of flies.
Poverty and Wealth embrace, as Hunger cries.
In the middle of the street,
A dead horse pretends to sleep
And hooded vultures with sharpened beak
Await their refectory table
Temples bleached like bones,
House pious wails and moans,
As huddled lepers take up
Alms against the able.
Sweet India, how came
Your infection so rife?
The virgin wears a widow’s shroud
Drenched with the stench of life.
Heart
In every heart there’s a string that waits to be plucked
In every heart there’s a beat that covets a drum
In every heart there’s a skip to find its feet
In every heart there’s a song that craves a voice
In every heart there’s tinder that needs a spark
In every heart there’s a wound that aches for balm
In every heart a lesson that seeks its scholar
In every heart a padlock awaits a key
In every heart a desert that’s thirsty for rain
In every heart fatigue that hopes for a dream
In every heart there’s a longing …
Angel
Am I so soon to die?
An angel has come to me with flowing hair,
Golden, ripe with summer’s smile
And warm with life’s own kiss and scented
With the sweetness of the meadow.
She speaks
And carries the lark
To settle by the laughing stream.
Her gentle hands bid me drink
Deep from her cup of youth.
She takes my hand to lead me
Along the ledge of uncertainty.
If I should fall,
Let it be into her arms.
The Comfort Child
Renaissance man, three centuries late,
The bludgeoned truths, he once held dear
Have bled him dry, this Wednesday year.
Is weakness strength when self-esteem
The needy rapist has to bear?
Still cries the dawn to find him here,
Disrobed of truths and lost from prayer.
I have no lust for life, I fear,
‘Though barely met my middle year.
What cause can cause concern
In one who’s lost the will to yearn?
Half a life with less to show than one begun,
A spider trapped by the very web it’s spun.
And salted tears will ne’er taste sweet,
If all should fall at one’s own feet.
Scraped clean the soil from rotted fruit
At these rough hands I gaze.
The gardener rakes himself a shrunken soul
And bloated corpse, still lost within his maze.
And all the while the smile that dwells within the tear;
The comfort child will stare me back with eyes so clear.
Spring
Who allowed you walk
In the garden of my heart?
The flower you hold too tightly
In your hand, is mine.
Did you steal it, as I lay drugged
By the perfume of your breath?
Let it fall gently
Or I may hold you
Too tightly in my arms.
Let it fall gently
To the ground.
I have already laid many
Such petals at your feet.
Abuse
Lie in bed, feet on smoker’s legs
Pressed flat against the board.
Overstretched as Modi nude with ruddy chest
One arm draped across the brow
To softly mimic trench ghost dead.
Trapped in time but never now,
Motionless and wet with stench of sweat,
A corpse that bleeds the poison fed,
The greed, the need, the hope, the holy cow.
Train of Thought
My train moves quickly
Your horizon trees, slowly
Though rooted, they glide
Nearer specimens skid by
And close to, lose their form
Sacrificed to lines of blur
My train moves quickly
Come close and we’ll part too soon
Fleet encounters and never known
Night train
Half full
Of empty
Reserved seats
And empty
Reserved people
Grounded
I lent against a live-wire fence
And blinked from the ground to see
A speckled mist of a thousand swifts
Arise from a nearby tree
Clearly I need to be shaken
From my anaesthetised disguise
Believing all I know as true
Whilst sensing my truth lies
Knight
Upon rising I notice the moon
That beckons before my sight
Like a brightly glowing grail,
Wraith from some other time
To cause my grasping thoughts to fail
As they fish for stifled rhyme
In this cold-sweat, deathly night
Mock light to pose a question in disguise
‘Have you grown calmly mad or simply wise?’
I would sweep aside the veil
Of star-tacked black, and screaming
Out my battle-cry of angry silence fight
To hold its precious glow in unclenched fist
And by some un-named right
Still, what primeval company do I keep,
That compels my baying dreams
While the whole world madly sleeps?
Awake to Sleep
Sleepless and mistakes come free,
Like thoughts that refuse to drown
And continue to annoy with stale persistence.
Sleepless, ‘though in the waking dream
Of parched eyes and strangled muscle.
I walk, I somnambulate, I believe
In everything I see through lying orb.
Contentment is a foreign shore,
An island lapped by waves of sleep.
Drown, I must, too tired to sleep.
Daylight removes the chance but not the need.
In my dreams, the images spit like splinters,
Sharper than reality but easily forgotten.
Another Sleepless Night
Another sleepless night, this time warm
Wearing your smile like a blanket
Holding your faith in my arms
Tasting your secret scent
And giving like there was nothing to believe in…
…and then
Fucking and spiking
Savour buckwheat spaghetti
With a drizzle of pesto
And all under cover, in sight
Jesus Christ, there’s religion tonight
And it comes with the whiskey
The flesh and the bone
The belief, the rise and fall
And the moan
The half dead, deplete
The gracious, the suspect
The curious questioned
The forgotten, alone
Icarus
Oh, Icarus am I
To fall this way
When I can fly
Fall you must without eyes
Glide when burning’s done
And tears are shed by others
Who neglect their own demise
All ripened by the sun
That licks the heart of lovers
Breathe you must, no more
And all you felt was true
The hopes and all before
All gone, sucked out of you
On perished wings
Can I still fly
Through sulphured tears
Can I still see
Naked as the bone
Can I still feel
The surety that I
Alone am right
The arms of good and bad
Of right and wrong
Have let me fall
I lived between the two
Believed each one was real
Do I need eyes to see
Need flesh and bone to feel
When I shall surely fly?
My Daughter Paints a Picture
My daughter, now seven, paints a blue stripe across the top of the paper. ‘That’s the sky’ she confirms.
I take her to the window.
‘Look, there’s the sky.
See how it comes all the way down.
All the way down to the tops of those buildings over there.
It comes all the way down to the ground’.
I pause to look into those unblinking, large, brown eyes
And realise she much prefers her interpretation;
Leaving me with the apologetic prayer
‘Keep it there, don’t ever let her sky come crashing down around her’
Dragonfly
I read somewhere the dainty dragonfly,
Has 30,000 lenses to each eye.
Then I heard an entomologist say,
“Its life span is but a single day”.
Why’s such care lavished
Upon the ocular precision
Of a creature that’s gone,
Just as soon as it’s risen?
Brighton
Those terraced faces
Full sun-beam licked
Silent stunned against
A thunderous sky
Those granite-framed eyes
With tear-stained secrets
Of ancients evenings
And faded schemes
Sentinel structures
That guard a mallow line
And tower heavy
On one so young as I
Brother v1
You were older than I; now younger.
You were stronger than I; now weaker.
You worshipped the stars,
For they wrote bright words of meaning
On a blackboard sky.
You lived your life, not knowing
That you paved a way for mine
With stones of confidence and respect
And when you left, it was my blood
That stained the path, not yours,
Cut deep as I am, unhealed by time.
Brother v2
Two sides of one coin,
You and I, welded.
You so big and strong and proud,
I the reverse.
Fortune tossed,
Tail over competing head,
Neither suspecting to fall,
Nor expecting to land.
Yet when we did,
We did so without a sound.
You’d outweighed my worth,
So I lay on the top,
To blink at the glaring
Face of the sun,
Whilst you buried
Your fading face to feed
On the shameful earth
By Allestree Lake
If only the child could freeze
A moment of happiness with ease
The purest vision of unfeigned days
Seen, transfixed by trusting gaze,
No seed of time could spawn this circumstance,
I’d play no part in this solemn dance.
It’s still; I stand, alone at last,
A jutting root reflects itself in frosted glass.
The angler’s line barely disturbs my past.
And ‘though you died young
You still lie in hospital bed
With tubes of faint hope
Draped and attached to your head.
A bag of salt tears, from all the years
Is silently drip-fed.
Meantime in some distant place,
An eagle soars with majestic grace,
In silent response to the voice of the wild.
Can the mere flight of time erase
The bond between a mother and child?
Colour-blindness
Today I am blind,
Colour blind,
I failed the test
Of living
With seeing eyes.
My choice, I know;
I chose not to look
At anything
Save myself…
And that I can
If I choose,
Or so you say.
But today I am blind,
So I stay
Inside my room
And cannot see
The beauty
That is in the colour
Of my carpet
Of changing green,
My ceiling
Of deepening blue,
With the shining light
Of life above,
That will paint
My searching eyes
With the smearing red
Of my warm blood,
When all my precious thoughts
Are cast upwards
To the ceiling
Of my room, to hang
Like unstrung jewels
Far beyond
My impoverished reach.
All this I remember
But cannot see to feel,
For I am alone
In my room
Where I believe
Are hue-drained walls,
When there were none before
To hold me in.
So I shall wait again,
Hoping, until
At last you enter
My room, smiling.
I am afraid again
And need you here,
For you have no fear
And can open
My colour-blind eyes
With just one warm kiss.
Death Valley
There’s more to this than meets the eye
The verdant hills, the cotton sky
I knew a day not far away
When all earth’s tears ran dry
Blistered feet held their ground
I disguised in dust,
Reeled to the screaming sound
Of silence sacred, just
The earth spat out its cacti guard
Sweat bled from every pore
Supple life baked hard
My burning eyes in awe
The Arizona demon
Breathed fire in my soul
Parched my mind of reason
And all religion stole
RSVP EROTICA