I fell into a volcano
this my alibi

When the sheriff
flashed a badge

demanding explanation
of my fire eyes

Ok so I danced
around many fires

And fire became my sister
and I a brother

but to the embers dying
I am a shaman

So *******
Mr Lawman.

you have made it as a poet
- when the birds in the garden
ask for your autograph

an envelope of space and time
opened

we fell deep into the forever
of now

and for a fleeting time
we gently touched

leaving each our imprints
on the fabric of our souls.

that DedPoet must be sitting in the Sun
kicking his heels in the dust
drinking a cold beer
and scribbling his best
I hope this is Earthbound
and not a premonition
the dust in his throat quenched
and no flag blue or red in the back pocket
of a young Gangsta
has took away this poet with a bullet

drink of sunshine
wash of rain
blue sky to sail

earth to conceal
stars to dance
crumble of stone.

how does the cactus know
prickles was the way to go

if I could be a witch and maybe I have been
flying around in denial
I must admit, flying, I find most pleasant

I can do the fandango
waltz you forever
But all I really want to do
is watch the sun rise and set
and watch the children be happy

Snuggled inside a poem-
is where I love you most.

Poetess of words-
betwixt the lines of silence.

spinning life through your fingers like a coin
a time of mulling over the facts
where you want to go next to escape
or run to your future, becomes a time of trust
you got this far didn't you, so relax

bouncing along on a breeze
in love with the scent of flowers
enjoying colour:
Busy Bee life
manifestations

its a full summer sky
come to play
for weeks and months.

we will skip
our heartbeats
children, again.

the light here
relentless
a brand new World.

green on green
Bumblebee buzz
and Butterfly wings.

jelly beans and ice cream
Chocolate and apples
unexpected sweetness
incarnate
A few of my favourites
and
The very best of all surprises.

I survived another full Moon
the changling, is almost gone
Love and madness, reconciled
hand in hand, skipping down the night

after a given amount of lived years
all fashion is retro

I will no longer hop skip or jump
and I will never get to walk on the moon
that always was for the select few
and I never was going to be an athlete

The wedding dress white;
is for a reason

the keyboard speaks
and I am silent
but we are joined
at the fingertips.

Being imperfect is as good as perfect it gets this side of forever
but you have to inhabit that space for it to be genuine
and let go the temptation to give up on yourself, because love starts this way, in an imperfect world, pimples count as much as anything else.

this speck of a speck of a speck
was around when the Universe was as yet born
and although this is a tiny mind of a speck specks speck
someone definitely wanted me around

hard heartedness is a terrible way to live
its a prison , a dungeon in the deepest darkness
no one gets to visit, and in the end no one wants to.

Having won the first race of life
after part of me was set loose in the explosive atmosphere of a mans ******* ( a shared experience of everybody)
the strangeness of being formed inside of a woman never really struck home. And the womb being the first nurturing home, I have to admit I have not the faintest idea of what that first home looks like. Time maybe for a walk down memory lane, revisit old haunts.

A short story
exposed bones

Poetry in motion
skeletal songs

pulse and pump and waterwheel cascade of sparks from a hot iron rivet
bound round with copper sliding down river and parachuting into the blackest of holes dug out for the ounce of gold rumoured to still be somewhere at the bottom while fish jump willingly into the net Jesus encouraged fishermen to cast and a woman gives birth in the taxi ride to the counting house of names and addresses knowing there is no room at the homeless hostel because there is a card game going on in town and every hotel is booked up to the hilt with cowboys thinking my lucky day has come spitting out a ship made of spittle and stinking chewing tobacco that sails around the world full of tourists

all is sweat, dripping, a shower of last nights beer and Barbie
pouring out this battered skin and muscles aching for rest
only to start again, red wine and lager , at another invite.
My God , this is supposed to be a vacation! I live the life large,
ticking over with my one kidney, the only one that I was born with,
and all I really want to do is scream into the deafness surrounding
my every move, and laugh at the futility of it all, while I fill my glass.

the salty taste of death
plays games across my tongue
a meal long digested
forgotten past your throat
I need water and need it bad
fluid nectar falling from the sky
collecting in puddles
where tadpoles love to evolve

a man rummages a trashcan for his supper
others stare at their plates
complaining the lack of ketchup

a far off singer sings
Blackbird:
owns these moments of this eve.
His song has stopped:
must have got his woman

there are still surprises

for you to be surprised

a way to pull you out

unexpected, from your mind

there are still surprises

coming for you, on their way

personalised, just for you

there are still surprises.

Going from a room for tissue
I come back blowing my nose
completely in the dark
about what it really was
I was about to be doing

I know of a man who sells flowers-
cut with a sharp knife
they do not live too long, after that.

exploding star supernova
I am in love with ya
since we met in cataclysmic
nothing comes close to you

Sun tells the time
around Sundials

Shouts out loud
FIRE!!!

concealing those dark parts of the heart
takes so much energy,
especially when they are already in full view
Best be honest as much as you can
and hope for the best

I met with an angel who had the wings of an airplane
smoked cigars and drank whiskey
told bad jokes and gave out losing tips for the races
all the same I loved that angel, so human
so happy in their skin, so unselfconscious
and I understood a little bout Jesus, who sought out the company of the lost, marginalised, and the sinners polite society condemned in their blindness, yes Jesus felt at home with the unpretentious.

it can be all hard work
a worship

and work can be
a survival

getting by
to just about

politician
verses poet

The air here is refreshingly sweet
a real tonic
pollution is far away across the sea
two ferry journeys
going onward the nearest city many more road miles away.
We are lucky, in this regard,
Oh! but what I would do sometimes for a takeaway curry.

yellow suns have sprung
their faces toward the Sun
a bees delightful flight
amongst the sunshine life
of the dandelions time
from hibernation in the-
earth their new birth to be
profusion in the grass green

I stood around the corner for so long
always a little detached from myself
waiting for the stars to align
and a number of other nonessentials
it took a minor miracle to shift me
to move into forward gear
realise my dreams as I travelled onward
gone around the corner, finally

the first cuckoo
its that time
o'clock

"you cannot do wrong to do right"
(a universal known truth)
which puts all terrorists arguments
in their rightful place.

the blue sea is dissolving
misting into the sky
sea-shrouding our island
white ghost in the waves

singing across the river
stood on the banks
of the Thames.
I was not alone,
a beautiful woman,
dressed for old Japan,
stood and sung, also;
we harmonised in a dance
not our own
as the Thames took us
upriver to Oxford
and far beyond

Your ordered chaos
universe
is where I take my lead.

don't sweat it
you'll make it all the way
to your death

screaming has its place;
too much intellectual-
is one of those times

I choose to believe
its my freewill
you have to respect that

I think I may have a small insight into that manic madman, madwoman,
you know the one; love potions and abortions all at the same time.
He, She, obviously reads poetry here and taking it all literally thinks we are all in need of a witchdoctor to cure us from love lost, love to gain, or purge us of any love child.

persecution will come
Truth said as much
so why be surprised

children and bicycles
evolution of speed
starts young