Top hat
Tails

Military men

Have that
Bearing

Scarlet waistcoat

Long hours
On parade

London hotel doorman

Up high monkey twist
Ripe coconut to drop
By his man.

But soon some robot hand
Will pluck husk tap bottle
Scrape out meat and pull coir
Into matted sheets in one
Smooth move.

But, monkey, I shall
Still watch fascinated as
You pick and choose at the
End of your long leash

And make a nutty living for man
And monkey beast

Yes you
you know who you are

Would you kindly return
the bleeding heart
(is it bleeding yet?)
you ripped so tenderly
from the gaping
chasm between
protuberant man-*******.

And perhaps
(should you be so kind)
under another cover
also post
the rib you broke
removing it.

Send it express,
the weight of life
support expels all
the air from my
spirit.

What the monks built

All ruined

All ruins

And monks gone
As monks should
Be

Gone.

Enlightened ones
In the middle
Lands

No commerce

Nor fools may prosper

The monks the monks

Still here in the lands

Still there in the landscape of dawn

Poppy remembers
Grandpas old coat
And the silk
Cravat and the
Pen that defines
Without shame
The lover of beauty

and I am deaf too,
and too dumb to speak
kind, loud and slow
to your yearning ear.

and also too blind,
with distance unsighted,
this burgeoning love
too readily blighted

no language too pure for
your precious flower
no sentence to capture
our rapturous hour

dissonant rhyming
and unstructured versing
metaphoric tussle
empathetic cursing

Dandelions!
Dandelions!

Thistles!
Thistles!

Everywhere!

Happy boy!
Happy boy!

Rock in stream
Somewhat eroded
Beneath

Chipped and battered
Mossy and lichened
Rock in stream

But enduring yet

Dawn sweepers out
clearing the
detritus of darkness

Chaos and disorder of
night giving way, reluctant,
to pretence at industry

Wantonness abandoned
until the black silk sheet
renders revellers invisible.

O passions
you are
what you are

Logos and light
you may merge

And crave the gloaming

From deepest
Hibernation
Rise

Phantomic
Images-

A street of
Ceaseless hum

A poesy of
Fallen petals-

This is work
Beyond words

Where silence
Snows

And everlasting
Freedom

Roams,
Bandaged and
Balmed against
The light that
Blisters
And fails.

Even so,
Love seems real

Lives on in
The mind of scholars

Kissing life into
Fragile phrases

Transparent as
October leaves

1
Small boy
One by one

Emptying the beach

2
Overarm,
Bowling
Pebbles
At the sea

Clinging to flotsam
(or is it jetsam)
and watching the
ship of foolish dreams
slide slowly in the west

A sudden burst of sun
throws a missed
reflection against
the hull and
leaves me breathless.

The beauty of continual
defeat lies in floating

All hope gone

Pruned and pickled in brine.

Waving at white sails
in the morning

Flapping wind adds
sound to the swell
and the potent,
pungent smell of
layered diesel,
rainbowed over salt

Repitition of
Prayer
Is only
Repitition
But repeating words
Is learning

Not to love
No
Not to care
Unsure

But to love
And be part of
Everywhere
To be the unique
Element in every term
And every chromosome

Not to love you,
Dear,
To be you
I am

And how to escape
From that?

Now is the hour
Of Hibernation


Rest grey muzzle soft
Into rotting bole

Living on belly-fat
Of Summer

Snorting Sleep

The point of fire
On the promontory

Burning mist

A glimmer

Sign

To ship
Unmasted,
Rudderless

Look
Though ye may not see

Rock
Beneath-

Sans food
Water
Air

This ship of fools

Beware

From single cell
Floating

To diversity

Wild rice to
100 varieties
This mono-culture
Anti-nature

Reverse evolution
From multi-form to

Simpleton

Moon keeps moving

Why not stay still?

Aha

Moving

Movement

Life

In any event
The mind goes
Telescopic

Time has me by the throat

And

Squeezing

Out of flanders mud
He crawled

Dulce et decorum est

Over southend pier i trudged

Pro patria mori

How can the sun
be silent in
univocal space

An harmony of
spheres with
ceremonial grace

And one bizarre
small planet
humming at great speed

Full filled with creeping
crawling things
disseminating seed

Sat on grass
beneath canopy
leaf

under body
seedling grows

fifty year
immobile
tree grows high

wide

sitting seeing far
with tree high eye

These words

Gone

Wisp of smoke

Imagine

Origami Swan.


Unfold and
Press-


Hey Presto,
A Blank page or

A poem from
Your man

Lachrymose old man
touches fingers
through the pane with

Young boy, arm around
his dinky dog

Counting carriages
on the click-clacking
train

Stood on a pole
forty years

Up down all directions
and no idea which
way is home

Batcherlered
yes I miss you

But it goes to the brain

And here it goes

Breathing sgain

Death

Release

Needles of Yew

Lay a soft bed
Of years
Over a grave-

Green to Brown
To Yellow- a pleasing transition

Echoing

The change
Underground

Yet shadow
Folds

Slithers on wall
And gutter

Supple

Lithe

Under telling
Streetlight

This deep night
Dis-lo-cation
Sends tattoos

Dropping on the pane.

Only the Lonely
Discern a rhythm

Only the disconcerted
See full moon
Seep light through

Ocean-full cloud
One eye brimful

One dry as prickle

A grotesquerie of time
Sculpted faces
Litter the landscape.

Classical columns stand
Jagged and broken or lie
Forlorn.

A soft oriental anxiety
Hangs in clouds over yhe scene,

And all the waves of
History fall.

The shift proceeds-
A drunken monk
Misdeliberates his
Kung Fu.

All is change
All balance is wobble-
The sun sets-uncaring

Of love

And loss

All is movement

Origin of life-

Tidal hole
Pulled by moon
Fed by sun

Collector of
Infinite grains from
Unimaged space

From this stripped down
Verse

Come all these
Wild
Untamed
Munificent flowerings.

Thus it is my love,
With patience
Of a gardener

Dost our love
Fecund
Become

And bloom

Cyril

Mind clear and
Almost singing.

But years weigh
Like gravity upon
The body.

This is it, then.
The end.

Unable to rise
From your throne-

Look death in the face
And say

Thank you for my life.

Hurt
Ling
Into
Final
Quartile
Life

Refuse to allow time
Last word

Because space is all
Around
And time is wrong

A little help
Please
Poets and we shall
Turn time
Around and upside down

Physics
On our side

And God is free

Because time is wrong

And this
Little
Poet
Refuses
To die

Word

Gone

Image

Gone

Dark gone

Illumination

Gone

All gone

Go on...

Sheep do not Scratch
The Tup,
Painful Birth,
Brief Spring of Frolic
In Lush Grass,
Nor butchers Knife.

Precious Poets,
We Bleat and Baah
Our Small Woes,
Big Loves,
Insights and Dust.

Such small Season
And Gone Gone Gone

When you walk
do your peach halves
smooth together moistly?

You are a beautiful girl
but you don't walk too well,
tripping over men
time and time and time again,
and when you stumbled over me
and when you came agin
again

Was it not just
the joy of a peach
returned to sun?

And I will hold you in
this fractured heart
until the stars,
tired of light,
fizzle and scatter
ash to time and space
eternal

Small leaf-

Still moist-

Resting in
My palm

Told you a poem

Elastic relaxed

Thousand year word

You scold me

Warm and
Breathing

Twin turtles
propelling gently
through warm oceans

Flipping belly to belly
no need of oxygen

Growing plump and huge
tomatoes on sea beds

Some days
anything is possible

Plucked random seed
From puppy paw

And discarded
Lightly

Tree of Life!
Tree of Life!

A part of nature

Of the master mason

Knowing the dead

Hewing head stone

From our crust.

Master mason
knowledge of lives
won and lost and one.

The grave yard serious
of misery and suffering-
alongside the happy chance
of love

Old lion
Mangy mane,
Draped over thorny bough,
Eyelids flipping flies.

Esses bring down
Some poor horned
Soul.

Down climb and
Belly growl,
Take tender parts.

Too idle to branch,
Sleep on sandy floor
In lovely shade.

So fat

Barely able

To access

The restaurant

Here,
at the diaphanous
borderline
between self
and other,

Ego wanders
and wonders

How the fates
and furies
battle out
destinies.

Is it ours
to be one,
conjoined
in time,
or it it yet
a cruel twist?

And even if,
accepting this result
or that

How much or
little
are we master,
mistress of our fate?

kissed every shrine
violated vestals
we were everywhere
venerated.

went to the government office

to the rich man

every time
horse *******
on my shoulder.

out of control
galaxies spinning
light sound
no centre

this cannot hold
why here in the middle
of nowhere?

those elegant people
sipping vicious cocktails

warm brandy lifted
capilleries.

I spat on the righteous

Before the bang began
this teeming round of
doing, non-doing

Was quiet and calm
the eternal mind.

Begun before the calm
cooled down seared
heat white light

Ineffable rounds
of critical mass
formed-reformed

Abandoned

And left to grow