A world can be so wonderfully inarticulate
Expressing as it does each prejudice
In a blizzard of minimalist vernacular
Pursuing the obvious common denominator
Thus elevating the average meanness
To the heights of banality and expedience
Quantified by the measure of indifference
Required to fill the volume of ignorance
Necessary to potentialise each prejudice
As a true barometer of society’s preference
Calculated to protect the existing social order.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
The gravity of angels doth presage a fall
Dissent is the ascendant written on the scrawl
Scripture's now grafitti's permanent fixture
Anyone care for a psalm missile or two
God has a couple, his friends have got a few
Nothings old every things really quite new
Every bargain's even got a testament or two
Destructions guaranteed, creation's over rated
Another Eden's a blue print for a parking lot
Rise and fall's kids’ stuff, god does them all
Damnation just that button on a play station
Satnav's got two, that's one for each direction
Heaven's great ' but hell can be a serious option
It really is an avenue, you gotta keep it open
When faith abandons you, the other joints reliable
In the meantime just enjoy the uncertain chaos
Sin must have some virtue, there's enough about
Even the clergy occasionally let it all hang out
If its good enough for frock coats, who knows
It might be better for all of us dressed as we are
Ready for anything that sin can throw at us
And everything we can toss back in a glass
Darkly with the shades on in a cheap hotel
We might as well if heaven's hell on earth
And the wagers of each sin is just a gamble
With eternity dead heading with our salvation
It could take a while before the result comes in.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
Chaucer was that gentle parfett knight.
Travelling as he went on his pilgrimage
Like a beautifully medievel Kerouac
With a bunch of others on their progress
Telling tales as they went on the holy journey
To that place of worship on the road to poetry
Nothings deep everything is scenery an’ heraldry
Lovely on its pilgrimage to Canterbury
Then some silver stuff takes you on to genius
Written by that bad bad bald guy
In that age of written geniuses
When everything went Einstein in colour
Every relative had an absolute poet
Dreaming of theatres in the round
And other kinds of geometric fashions
For strutting the stuff of the written culture
Beggars were borrowed and the acting got better
Dressed for dying beautifully to a paying audience
Things were on the up when written downtown
Across the boards and curtained signs saying exit
Selling stuff in the aisles to increase the margins
And other kinds of existentially profitable existences
For the written word and the acting sin tax
Made a buck or two worth turning up for
In the bear pit of the wooden O’s auditorium.
Then the lights went out in a very puritan fashion
Of iron buckles on high and mighty hats
Inside heavy shoes were emptier soles
Nailed art to the boards in crucifying style
Paradise was lost but that light still shone
In those dark and dismal times of religion
Where even god was proclaimed a heretic
For daring to be one of life’s creative souls
With an occasional very flashy revelation
Flasing the light and other stuff so fantastically
Behind the shed in the basement of the other Eden
Johnnie was mixing up the stuff from the garden
Still tripping the light show quite fantastic
Transforming colour from darker spaces
That kept the puritans in their prurient places
A voice alone inside the high hat revolution
Didn’t quite do everything all write on the night
Because he thought about it twice in the daytime
Thinking about is okay but seeing it is better
A tale of genius smothered by intellectuality
Was wee Alexander’s thoughtful contribution
Butterflies and wheels and other kinds of deals
Set the scene for the future enlightenment
In the shape of ghosts to haunt eternity
With a grain of sand and a redder rose
An’ other stuff both wonderful and dangerous
Its appeal was so magically tremendous
It remains today to haunts us all so beautifully
In shapes that become everything around us
The surrounding beauty is so alchemical
Transforming water into wine and flowing poetry
The miracle of pouring words transforms us
From passengers to charioteers of fire
On the battlefield for a worlds tomorrow
Where our sweetest songs still remain
Our tears of joy from fleeing pain
Played upon the fields of destruction
Where yesterday will never be tomorrow
Unwritten the sun sings it on the morn
Because tomorrow wants to be here
It’s there on the rise before our very eyes
And nothing’s stopping it except ourselves
The poets wrote it so long ago
And now’s a better time than most to sing it
All together now, ‘the future can be beautiful’
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Ohwhatawasteofallthatdevilishmedicine
Andtherockerbootsarereallyquiteattractive
Saintsirmiickael and his coolcohorts
Shooking his lefter leggers in snorts
Bebopping aloopbop boppity bip bop
At this gal renamed crazylittlefender
A shadyladily upon the fadinglybeauty
Ryefillwryfilled arriveangetfooled
Crinklecrinkle comeangetyereyesfilled
Concretesnice but glueissomuchbetter
Rivetingstuff if you’re reallydesparate
Toplayerin a rockering and rolleringband
Flasheringjackerings on the higherways
Averygoodplace for loseringyourselfer
Asthewheelsonthebus go runarounding
Heavencanwait an hellhaslostitspatients
Electricsoup and banderaiderdependence
Twiceaweekontv and thriceinthemirror
Hereslookingatyou reallylookimngatme
Itsallright IthinkIbought abrandnewticket
Therollerskatesdontfitmeanywhereanyway
Butwhathaveyoudonetoyoursingeringsong?
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:47 AM UTC
Liberty to itself exposes
Limitation’s weakness
Upon the face of liberty
Staring back in beauty
At the ugliness of chains
Freedom is what happens
To untrammelled thought
Left to its own delight
It is the natural consequence
Of beautiful significance
Liberty dwells delightfully
Where repression fails
To threaten human frailty
Laying down poetic law
Writing up our freedom
Freedom is soul expression
Engraved in beautiful thought
So natural to a poet
Remoter still to politics
Yet closer to our heart
Liberty is what liberty does
Increasing the joy of love
Sharing our soul’s humanity
Extending our compassion
To others bereft of beauty.
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 10:36 AM UTC
The leaden cloak of his sorrowful pain
Is measured in tears like driving rain
Beating on the heart of experience
Searching for the self’s deliverance
From the consequence of his ignorance
Anchoring his soul to actions past
The present crucified upon his heart
Conscience writ upon a mirror image
A reservoir of guilt haunting his step
Casting shadows on his shallow soul
Traduced by chance and circumstance
Invading his dreams with silent terror
Water drowning heartache in his song
Wandering upon waves of contrition
Crashing on the shoreline of neglect
Brimming with remorse ridden regret
The wine of benediction in his thought
Seeking his redemption from the crime
His immortal grace is the Ancient Rime.
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
Alone she rests ‘neath castling towers
outfacing glazy terraces
by just gazing south to west
Alone yoke of bags she appears to shed
like a mother at a crossing
just waiting for the lights
Alone on a rise arc of green
glass to stones engraced
just by her lovely patina’s glow
Alone upon art’s breasted seeing
infants whisper blessings
to a brown madonna just watching
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
Not long after the beginning, and a bit before the end, the Almighty said to Noah: “Is that your real name?” “Yeah”, said Noah: “you gave it to me, your ever generousness. I was hoping for something a bit more romantic, maybe even an extra syllable or two, or become all psychedelic and have a hyphen and a double barrel, but Noah is functional. I’m not complaining, a lot. After all what’s in a name? Wouldn’t a cactus be just as uninteresting if it was called something else? Why am I and my not very exciting name so humbly in your almighty and quite tedious presence?” asked Noah. “I’ve had a great idea”, said God: “and I want you with the very boring name to be the first to hear it.” “Can’t wait to hear it your Denseness, even if it is only half as brilliant as the square wheeled chariot and deep-fried ice cube you nearly invented for us last week; and as for the three-armed jacket, well what can I say? Jacob wears his every day and I won’t tell you what he does with it at night, as it involves folk music. And didn’t the Paisley patterned boulder illuminate the landscape?” said Noah “Oh good”, said God: “I do so enjoy it when the minions are attentive to my every word and trembling syllable, What’s the point of being an Almighty if you can’t Almighty it over the lower orders from time to time?” “I couldn’t agree more, your Bampotness. Even if you do appear to be a few slices short of a full loaf on occasions. So, what’s this big idea you’ve had?” said Noah. “I want you to build a boat, the biggest and bestest boat there’s ever been” said God. “Why”, said Noah, “we live in a desert, we don’t do boats; never have done, don’t get a lot of call for them in these parts, your Obliqueness. Ordinarily you’re every utterance is a symphony of sound and beauty to the sticky out bits on the abstract countenance you have so generously created for me, O Guano features. Couldn’t you do another plague of frogs and locusts? We loved those. Your subjects haven’t eaten so well since. Very tasty they were indeed, and so much more nourishing than the daily fare of cactus bark and centipede you dish up to us as we go about our increasingly diminishing mortal trespass. I hope you weren’t baffled by the paradoxical construction of that sentence. One Almighty’s punishment is another lowly minion’s business opportunity. I was running a fast food joint while it lasted. Made a change from the normal feast, where you have to catch your dinner before it catches you. Eat before your eaten that’s the Law ‘round here. It makes you feel more like a recipe than a person on occasions, your Compostness.” “Be that as it may, said God: “I’ve got some drawings which Eve helped me to make” “Eve?” said Noah: “did you say Eve?” “Yes” said God: “Eve”, that’s what I said, she likes me more than all the rest of you put together and that’s why she’s my favourite” “This will be good” said Noah: “let’s be having it. Let’s see the cosmic blueprint of a less than useless boat that Eve devised” “I helped to devise it as well”, said God: “In fact I done all the pencil sharpening, and here it is.” Noah sniggered and said: “That’s not a boat it’s a camel!” “Brilliant, isn’t it?”, said God: “you’ve got to hand it to Eve; she’s a genius at this kind of stuff, and she says it will make me look jolly clever as well. And that will stop all you ungrateful and wretched minions from smirking and sniggering every time I have a wonderful idea.” “This is even better than the ten commandments, three dos six don’ts and a maybe” said Noah. “My Ten commandments were wonderful” said God: “even Moses said so.” “The only reason you have ten commandments”, said Noah: “is because you have ten fingers. If you had seventeen fingers we would have seventeen commandments; one for each digit. People who use their toes to count their fingers should avoid life’s mathematical complexities. And as for Moses ‘The Born Leader’ he’s a party hack. He’ll agree with anything you say as long as he gets his name on the tablet. He’s publicity mad. When he grows up he wants to chisel the definitive text on cactus attraction, for the benefit of future desert wanderers. Eve says he a bit of a Freudian fruitcake on the quiet, whatever that is. She also says, his mother told him he was adopted, and he’s never quite got over it.” “Why would Moses want to get over a cactus, seems jolly silly to me” said God: “He’s a complete basket case, according to the local grapevine. Never mind all that, let’s see the blueprint.” said Noah: “A wooden camel, only a cosmic idiot could imagine it. If it was a wooden horse it could have been sold to the Trojans, or a wooden cat to the Pharoahs, and I’m told the antipodeans go a bundle on timber budgies, but camels; nobody wants one, not even other camels. How did someone as colossally dense and as infinitely thick as your self acquire the surreallness of thought to imagine it in the first place?” said Noah. “You’re a bright little chappie for a minion”, said God: “Eve told me about the Greeks and their wooden gee-gee and I suggested a boat, then Eve pointed out that this was a desert, and consequently we need a desert boat. ‘One that floats on sand’, I said. ‘Not quite El Plonkero’ she said. Then Eve said we have to adopt and then apply some lateral thinking to the problem. She pointed out that we live in a desert and that we need a boat that sails in the desert. And then I had the mostest cleverest thought I’ve had in ages. We need a ‘desert boat’ I exclaimed. And Eve said I was a true plankton eater. She says the nicest things to me. A ‘ship of the desert,’ she says, ‘and what’s a ship of the desert?’ Quick as a flasher in the rush hour, I said ‘a camel’, and Eve replied that I was quite bright for a log, and that camel plus ship equalled wooden camel to sail away from here to some other paradise she called Hollywood, ‘Land of heavenly bodies and the drop dead gorgeous Brad Pitt.’” “And you believed her?” said Noah. “Of course I believed her”, said God: “she’s Eve and if you can’t believe in Eve what else is there to believe in?” “There’s an answer to that”, said Noah: “but you’d toast me like a heretic on the happy juice if I repeated it, your Doorknobness.”
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Whats in the name game
Axl blew it with a nose job
Tried to blow his brains
With his name
The Rose was firing blanks
Isn't that just as sweet
Vanity is the better part
Of insanity
Morrison looks on in wonderment
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
Living dangerously
Perishing beautifully
Isn't that just so
Very very unjust
Art and writing
Is something living
In eternity dying
For a grain of sand
Drowning in an ocean
Of fame and adulation.
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC