I talk to the trees
but the wind won't listen
I am the late man
without reason;
a rekindled spirit
with enough pride
to outlast your sufference.

Magus Alexander  McNair
Son of Autumn  
play your lute
summon the seasonal offering,
my shephered.

If you think long enough
Spring will come
but if a windy wind erupts
from the sty of your eye
the gold streets will turn to lead
from a rain cloud that never pails

The color of  talk
with sunny chimes,
spring as a shiny fortitude
the world as a rounded dahlia.

Winter is all black,
its robe rubs salt into the wound
the convergent bruises, rustle our being.
Gifting us a load of happenstance.
Angels and minotaurs don't speak for us
I say this quiet apparition,
gives us an imperfect  surprise
if only for an unrepentant moment.

i will not eat your fruit, barrow lady,
you must be Eves daughter !
and you must be Adams son  !
she said with a scornful glare
the softest fruit are the devils tastiest

you are both moggie and
sheik rolled into one
commonsensical and nature elated
springtime forward
we follow your course
bathing by the fireplace
you are impervious to extremes
Electric 9 lives
a happenstance of excellence
loved amongst others
I call you Patrick

Maeve when i first saw you
my heart skipped a beat,
I have never seen such beauty,
your features felt heavenly,
i felt my life begin with you,
renewing in a vow
like walking down a country lane
leading to mountains
over looking the azure skies.

Peter adorns the lounge
his slim frame belies his size
orange filters through his black slique coat
but be on your guard
in a lapse of time
his teeth will sink into your hand
no guard dog but a temperamental soul instead

The music of the 90s
were a wave and tangy (strings)

Cruel to be kind
is like cutting butter with a knife.
but is a white lie any better?

Sleep is like sludge
once you get stuck
it draws you in.

Dreamweavers are dusky,
storm voyeurs.
You never can get enough,
once it takes you over.

I've seen galaxies through a telescope
I've got an eye for detail
In the margins I write the occasional note
about the origins of time

Seeing forgets the sight
a kiss as short as a blink
Time as yet  to heal
the direct approach
being the best

i am a jealous God,
throw away  your pots and pans
i cannot stand the din.

Beach head, light top,
regional Frisco veteran
full powered chick
irradiating your enemies,
and smoking  from their peace pipe.

The clown stares at me
he thinks he recognizes me
like our blood coalugates.
I dont have a war face
or hide between shadows
I am fully suited by choice
no psychosis to test.

Aliens dressed as Americans
eating Wigwams for thanksgiving
and celebrating General  Custer
with their custard

Striker are you drifting deeper ?
like a central defender on recourse !

Spring plys it's golden daffodils,
watching swathes of aconites from the windowsill.
The World pledges it's amen,
as February ushers its joy.

save our cities
widen footfalls,
build flats for ownership.
vote Labour to protect our libraries,
make Croydon travel zone four,
and try for Americanos for less than 2 pounds.

When I look out of my window
(I see a sorry cat)
and I know Ive been heard
its verdant outside
flanked by the Sun
The urge to do good is overwhelming
I postulate who needs help?
(circles in the sand)
The liberation of dreams
brings you back

she plays with your heart,
and on lonely days she murmurs
a lonely tune,
to wrong foot your dreams
on  drear morrows.

Sadness finite like drizzled rain
longing, banished by a spanish guitar
esperer too distant a word .

Come hither
Autumn folly
Lost foible sensations
Return my fate
as I once knew.
I can get no rest
Bring my life back to me!
cause I need a friend.

in the moment of love
i walk 10 feet tall
i grasp for air

I knew a woman
dressed in seven shades of rain
I met her in the marketplace
She spoke softly in the morning light
Embracing shadows,
perhaps our sky broke
Green eyes, the light of skin
Painted dreams in her head
This is our tune together,
by some distant river
her face has a frown

Penelope Tree lived in a house
with servants by the score.
She was already the "it" girl at 16
with luxuriant eyebrows,
for someone like David
who saw her as forbidden fruit.
He made her feel kooky cool
but with the event of teenage acne coming back,
he de- mused her from his company
and now shes zenning her demise
in some fashionable pied a terre

the blue boys flounder through the town
looking for blue girls
to share a bed

The lonely boys then pick moon beams and stroll into the recesses of the night

A glisten of silver birch
watch your fortune so
like well wished for rice cakes

The Sunrise, son of Jupiter
wordwise, all over the place
with all the beautiful things you are
Is this the love you have bought?
from bow to stern
you reap what you sow

never let a memory be shed,
or a teardrop be tattooed on your face
bright things comes to those that wait.

The sea unrolls on itself
by the gaze of a seagull
its mechanical eye
creates ceaseless shutters
mingling with the sound of the waves

the war sky turns red
its time for cranking up
this disappearing act again

The acolyte knew of Isis's reign
He followed the course of the Nile,
chased the shadow of the desert  
made thirst of secrets
he kept as Afro light.

Another Autumn reigns,
cold metal blue,
Evergreen Matador steps out again
looking for his Bravo Toro.
Stroppy Labrador,
surrounding you with love.
Spirits having flown,
with the Northern star.
Portly headmasters blunt with scorn.
Ravenous Ravens a plenty,
fill the void

A country alleyway  for Jennifer
growing buds for spring
and sights of field mice

Enshrined in her smile
dwells an obedient soul
An expected turn
affable and confirmed
surrendering
her mysteries

Oliver is different.
He is a risk tolerant,
opening umberllas indoors
shoes on tables.
Its just a phrase he is going through
I know because my  Dad told me so

im in heaven
with my black bread and chichory coffee.
All i need are monkey nuts
it takes a man to know his worth.

nows the time for askance
asking her in good time
understanding the wherewithal

I sleep well
but my dreams are bad
I dreamed i was at Mafeking
and the sunrise was frail
I couldnt see my enemy
but the relief of not knowing
(was if my own measures)
were a seige too far

When  your French teacher
threatens to speak French only
by week three
you know your own
a losing wicket
Goodbye friendliness
and a gentle flow
No humor,
No franglais.
Floats like a hurdle,
stings like a bumblebee,
in a now tangled web.

Shades of Autumn
ply beneath the banquet
of a quilted leaves.

The skewbald sun,
our incandescent champion,
sketches and flows
across the silhouetted bridgehead

The  blueish pond recedes
in the dark shade of the trees
A swan lies dying
A solitary bird mourns alone

i am the raging truth
I've been ruthless for eternity .
i am father to a 1000 children
but  begot 100000 more,
what of all your dignity?
now washed on the shore,
i only safe unbelieving sailors
who one day lay in un- lamented  graves,
that i sanctify as my own

I want you to see the envy in my eyes
Let us go to the hotels of the night
Everything is a hidden rosette
Heaven is a paragraph
Take me to your leader
And then I will transcribe,
unraveling the hotel's lights

Your friends decried your darkness
was it just their shadow schemes
that somehow peered  beyond their call

It's difficult being someone
It's hard sleeping
and understanding your dreams
Once I was a contender
presiding over an imaginary foe
I will smile when I find someone
it's almost time I kissed you

You're a southern guy
you've got a heart of gold
and all you got from me
was a tapered window
to espy
Lets try and see the day as a myriad creation

Like a finger dail.
The wall is shallow.
Can't find the other side
Like a passing eagle,
of childhood fantasy.

Thoughts concealed.
Head in the clouds.
Now I'm whispering.
Winter is blue.
The sap is leaning.

searching in my mind
thoughts swarm like flies
a distant banjo plays

The Prima donna was abrupt
she said she didn't want to be
part of any wherewithal
but needed a firm base on the dance floor
She's lost the noble art of conversation,
a glance in the armory of mercurialness

Restless in her heart of hearts
The streets are designed for a thrill
She needed a hero
strictly some kind of
game of chance
in a heartbeat

Im hearing a siphon of a song
My love has gone away
The spindlewood has run dry
The seasons is awry
Tis the time of merriment
said the jester to the knave

Glimpses of oxeye daises,
crestfallen fawn limping,
milk shine on gorse,
bleaching sunlight
morning crucible patterns,
fields of spent acorns,
on sandy loam.