Sir Richard's tomb in silence sleeps
The day has broken fair
Then tourists come ashore and shout
'I wonder what's in there?'
'Some dust or bones, a skull, a sword?'
I doubt they even care
But others visit Richie's tomb
And stare a silent prayer.

Tonight the summer solstice moon rises.
Low, clear over the pregnant fields that lie
Here beside us.
Yellow light in my baby daughter's eye
Awake, alive, asking that question - why?

Full-disc moon! Swollen with past sunset's light.
Don't carry your secrets to midnight blue.
I ask what right
You think some order has vested in you
To leave us, here below, without a clue.

Again and again you will go. Higher!
Lower! Dancing! While shifting seasons show
Me a liar.
Trying to explain what I cannot know
To an infant mind so eager to grow

Like the crops before me that now have caught
The breeze. A whispered answer offering
Much that I've sought:
We are both parts of a far greater thing
And knowing that lets the moon goddess sing.

Felicity blinks in the bright sunlight
Stepping off the train at Waterloo. Night,
Our time, seems gifted with hours too few.

Still, her mind is set on loving. She would
Even throw her arms around a tree. Should
She see 'neath it's bark rings of what could be.

I see them stuck to their arses
Almost wherever I go
Poking above the back pocket
Like the flesh a **** wants to show

There's iPhones, Samsungs and others
A new class-system of makers
Vibrating right through their buttocks
Steadily wetting their knickers

I watched a ******* the bus once
Clean one along her left thigh
Slowly nearing her *****
The dirt in my mind heard her sigh

As she made love to the **** pics
To Tinder, Bumble and more
The phone a pink flower in her hand
That swiped right just like a *****.

Travelled light of time.
Arcturus risen
over the gentle, waveless ocean.
Its light moving with steady purpose
since the time of her birth.
To shine
on her fresh-kissed lips.

Sit for a while
On an ancient piece of sculpted driftwood
Watch the tide turn
By the Point o' Scarden
Under a sky that's as grey
as a gulls' dipped wing.

The sea plays upon millenia of boulders
Listen to its whisper
Here time forgives a life's mistakes.

Suburban streets soaked with rain
Self-same journey once again
Along the backs of terraced homes
Council schemes, steeples, domes

This London rush. What's it for?
Another day just like before
Nothing like you likely planned
Then there is the tiny hand

That reaches up to hold on you
Too young to question what we do
If it's madness. If it's sane
Life gone on commuter trains

For her it's simple, not a muddle
She does not step around the puddle
That can and does reflect her face
That in its turn reflects your grace

Suburban streets soaked with rain
Self-same journey once again.