I am in love with the story of faces
told in each exchange
but its the story behind them
the mystery I crave

Gravity is Earth's way of taking back your flesh
and once you start losing the battle, everything is going to sag.
Sag into your favourite chair, sag in the mirror so you stop looking, sag in the eyes of the young, sag into the dust of your grave.
So take out a loan and pay for a de-sag today, you know you want to, all the stars of screen and stage are doing it, pick up one of our full colour testimonials.

everything is gently waving
hello hello hello
grown taller and outward
showing off their finery
a land of lush greens
all vying for recognition
gentle world of vegetation
hello hello hello
everything is gently waving

ah ha its the Sunrise
Mr Curlew was stuttering about
doing a fancy stuttering flight
while loudly stuttering his song notes;
Maybe he was telling me I should have been in bed
hours ago... yesterday in fact... or a least last night
which is nearly all daylight

My mind fell off its familiar perch.
I found myself lost;
Nailed to contradiction.

the best thing about planting trees
is watching birds perch the branches

wet weather gear only goes so far
oozing through the mud
The farmers feed their cattle

sitting round the fire in the sky
listening out for ancestors talk
we pass around our stories

while feeling the soil heave-
up in great big creases-
alive hills and mountains-

to be climbed and overcome
likened to the monstrous -
telling as told in our stories

Reignited haven of peaceful wonder
far away place of once upon a time
Begins and ends with happy ever after

a kangaroo springs
are envied
No-one jumps like Skippy
and no-one talks like Flipper

Bones blood flesh
eyeballs breath
Brains muscle brawn
Screeches screams
Thoughts all
mixed crushed
wrapped in tongues
Long fermented
Witches Brew
snacks..... you really don't want to know!!!

from a small beginning
I loved your big heart

my niece now a big 8
shared the feeding of a slug with me
cabbage- the slug loved it
I wonder how the course of her life will be changed

death will come unexpected
punctual with purpose
pregnant with itself

There is a story constantly being told
-its in the drumming of mountains
-ancient stone rising upward.
Its in the eyes of children seeking understanding
and the games they play when alone.
All the myriad freedoms of animals
the beauty of a wilderness through seasons
ever on the march around the Sun.
The story is unfolding and changing
and staying the same all at once
Its in the drumming of mountains
-ancient stone rising upward.

I have rocked-around-the -clock
doing a sedentary two-step
often sitting down when the music stops
and reaching for oblivion in liquid
finding life at the bottom of all oceans
dancing their socks off

how the Sparrow finds it comfortable to twist its head around and put its beak beneath its wing feathers and sleep is a mystery they keep to themselves

there's a song in your heart
and only you can sing it
wander where you may
your song will follow
it will seem too heavy at times
but for sure it will still be your song
it will still be your heart.

Ginger
red
warning
ginger cake
ginger root
freckle
red face
ginger red
rare colour coded
womb knitted
palate choice
ginger splash
dash
flash
golden mane
orange.

to sing one love song
before eternal silence.

lets do something unique she says
while dragging me by the hand

out and about grass cutters
petrol engines whining and groaning
the smell of cut grass-
a memory as far back as childhood
the grass itself -universal almost-
a world wide survivor -
fed on rolled in sat on....

we sat in a circle of love
waiting
one of us was a robber
one a thief
two had committed ******
three adultery
we realised the circle
needed patience
we sat in a circle of forgiveness
love and repentance

Something communicated and not necessarily worded
a space between, holding its own creation, its own reality
deep down the heart of things, a silent kiss, a union of more than lips
the coming together of spirits once joined in love, never forgotten
and all that spins off from this dynamic, energises everything else.

The bagpipes blast through the open window
a marching band
a commemoration of The Battle Of Jutland
up the road, a stones throw,
the military cemetery full of dead young men.
Remembered now in solemn hearts and minds
- the mindlessness of war, the breaking of hearts
when the bagpipes stop piping, the silence.

I spied a woman wearing a pink flowered dress
and my intuition deduces the woman likes pink flowers
not a great leap of the imagination, but the woman is wearing the readable sign, and I am just the reader, with a Bee intelligence.

Silver seam dream
locked in liquid sunshine
Swords into ploughs
The Dove of Peace
Peace brothers/sisters

Hope someone has the generosity to dance on my grave

this story book forever being written
is the story of all

we meet in the Sunrise
wish upon stars

take on the struggle of freedom
to live fully a life

this story has an ending
in the end there is a beginning.

its the fire of your blood
constant pump of your heart

silent breath riding the sky
a song on your lips

all the singing Universe
the beauty of loving

its life unfolding
the travelling of your mind.

weather knows what is best;
been around
for a long time now

living organism;
making adjustments
had lots of practise

Derelict concrete buildings from the second world war sit like the skeletons of dinosaurs with gaping holes where someone used to look through windows dotting our island that look now empty eye sockets in great big skulls
lookout towers and brick built barracks and cinemas and pump stations and piers reach out to supply ships that now either turned to deep reefs for fish and sea creatures of myriad kinds or cut up and recycled into modern metal sea horses carrying a new generation of teenagers on to  some kind of glory death and war.

You **** in air to keep your lungs inflating
tied to ancient choices when you gave up gills
and you cannot remember that far history
but you know the ocean can be beautiful
and you know she longs to take you back.

the bridge-builder wants access
ease of travel to distant shores
free movement people and goods
the peace of family friends and nations
enemies coming together on common ground

relax in your skin
rock back and forth
the rocking chair sure don't mind
Relax in your skin
rock back and forth

you know you do not write poetry
every now and again
- poetry borrows your fingers

******* of boat engines, gunning,
raid the silence of my perched open window.
They have their ways, fisher folk, and who am I to deny their tables food. Nets, full of brimming silver.
I guard solitude jealously, the absence of demanding voices.
Love can be found in such seeming desolation,
the prayer for friend and foe in equal measure.
I do not mind the sound of boats coming and going,
the deep blue a highway for whales and men and fish and stars.
The throats of bird and boat calling out, into the silence.

Beer and Barbie
sizzling meat and sunburn
Stars and late night aeroplanes
Laughter and jest
Some serious stuff kept lighthearted
More beer more meat
more laughter

Its when your dreams manifest in the flesh
nightmares too, that can follow you around for decades
a sham ,shambling, shadow of yourself, sometimes
just getting by, with your head in the clouds, unconcerned
for today, let alone tomorrow, with its fear woven tightly into each unknown hour. Yes its the dream stalked by nightmares come together
to vie for your sanity, to vie for recognition, to become the flesh and bone
that lives out its own premonitions.

punch out a poem
punching in letters
they are all welcome home
the long lost lovers
leaving the tips of fingers
entering the forever
long lost brothers and
long lost sisters

USE YOUR VOTE

and when the silent majority vote for none of you
you go ahead and form a government anyway

Politicians wield the old, sick, and all marginalised
its in their remit, their DNA
when it comes to taxes, and the taxed,
they are right on cue
Politicians need votes, and the popular voice
in any given age, comes very cheap Mr Billionaire.

Today is garbage day and I missed it again
I will have to live with it another week
all that discard, thrown out, rejected
a bit like shark fin soup, poor shark.

thump thump thump
Rock Doves arrive
on the roof
I could swear they know
time
all the local cats
disappear  for their tea

you watered down bad news
for friendship-
offered the silver;

and reminded me;
it will need a little polishing.

She stood a good two feet
warrior taller than any man close

she asked what good I was

and I said I liked to write stories

With a flick of her eyes
I was hired

a poet

stone monuments are big here
circles and chambered tombs
monoliths, stone houses.
Folk from the stone age
building stone age stuff.
Thousands of years of
history.. going way back.
We moderns will leave
our own, personalised.
The graveyard for granite
headstones, wonder how
long they will stand.

thin veil pink skin
hides animating spirit
who lives eternal
in the here and now
within without all creation
a poem and the poet

'love while you can'
sings the Butterfly
'choose love today'