Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.

I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!

That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine

the geysers flooding from deep in its vault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald.

The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
We asked for signs
the signs were sent:
the birth betrayed
the marriage spent
Yeah the widowhood
of every government --
signs for all to see.
I can't run no more
with that lawless crowd
while the killers in high places
say their prayers out loud.
But they've summoned, they've summoned up
a thundercloud
and they're going to hear from me.
Ring the bells that still can ring ...
You can add up the parts
but you won't have the sum
You can strike up the march,
there is no drum
Every heart, every heart
to love will come
but like a refugee.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.
That's how the light gets in.

If only the Christmas lights on Oxford street
could fill a table with food to eat.

In the hungry days of shop doorways where
some sit silently
shiver violently
the lines of lights light up their nights
as if they need reminding that the
'morrow brings them nothing new.

Nothing to do but wait
as another bus draws up and
more get off to sate their appetites
among the bright lights of
Oxford Street.

Winter nights.

The soup run does not come
never will
the traders,council and the coppers
think it gives bad vibes to shoppers,
still it would be nice to think
that homeless people get a drink of
something hot.

Down Trafalgar Square there's somewhere where
they can spend some time
have a meal ,a shower and a crypt
seems fine if a little odd
for the poor sod
who's only got what he's given.
A new shirt and trews
he's not from Scotland
but beggars do not choose
they accept and
sometimes painfully,
the helping hands from a charity.

It's such a sad affair that some don't care,
don't give a look and yet think nothing
of sharing pointless posts on
the pages of Facebook.

Another bus drops off a few even as some drop off the
grid
and we bid goodnight to the rights and wrongs
the Christmas songs
the happy throngs
and hide
inside
another
doorway.

Alice was walking
At the back of her yard
when she spotted a gnome
well....standing guard
she knew she was gnomeless
she had a ball and a stone
but there in her garden
was a short, stocky gnome
he knew that she saw him
he tried not to blink
he stopped all his breathing
this'll fool her i think
she walked down the garden
stopped ten feet away
looking close at this person
who was dressed in green gray
she thought, this is crazy
a gnome in my yard
it was then that he moved
and he held out his card
she looked at the writing
it did her no good
it was written in gnomish
and only gnomes understood
the stare off continued
and then she asked loud
who are you, you gnome you
standing so proud
he said, i am biffles
at your service i am
in the back of your garden
here in East Ham
she said, why my garden
what is special to you
about my dear roses
and my runner beans too
he said, that a meeting
of the higher up gnomes
was being held there that night
there were elves and some pixies
and some twenty odd sprite
they were there all around her
though they couldn't be seen
watching her closely
in ten shades of green
well, biffles ...young sir
what is your job while here
you aren't at the meetings
what do you do my dear
i am sargeant at arms
when we're here or at home
i guess you could call me
(wait for it)
yep...i'm a guardin' gnome