peace
please



private property..
intruder hurtled over
seeking who knows what
screaming obscenities

perfect pitch..
find little solace
but by going within
hide well beneath veneers

possible perfection..
but with one
so* very far away
loss near calamitous

pardon presumption..
get over discomfort
pick up sad face
work with it

passable poetry..
may reveal a layer or two
if the inner eye ready
shove preconceived away

puerile pretence..
try to prove points
only to efface the truth
lose bits of the light

petty prisons..
all just deadly excuses against living
get locked in by the self
unlock the cell, throw key away

please..
peace



S T, 12 June 2013

fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance

no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting

concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless

such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..

four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams

time to fill
maturation
to come..

to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..



S T,  13 June  2013

I could sit before a TV screen
and tell you of places I have seen
or news I didn't want to know
that was on a television show
but what the hell
I could sit beside a wishing well and wish my life away
I could stand before the pyramids and puzzle each and every day what prompted men that when they died would want to hitch a chariot and ride up to the stars.
I could but don't think I will or would instead
I shall think of you and you know who you are
Oh yes you do
and how far is it before the kiss and I told you I don't want to miss the moments that miss those minutes of the night when deep in...
..well you know what I mean
I play out the same scene in my head
on my pillows in the bed
and in my heart.
It will start
you know it too
no good you fighting
the fighting is through
just surrender to my tenderness
undress and let me guess the rest
best I do not say much more
so shut the door
and come to bed.

Electrodes to nodes
and nothing bodes well
electrickery and it trickles into me
revolting and jolting
and Frankensteinlike bolting me
to the bed.

The head
this head will no longer be as free
as the thought imagining in me
while hot electrotomoty
burns me to
anonymity
and it's a pity I can't be
a less condusive entity
but the powers that be seem to have it in for me
and I am strapped to non lucidity
in the name of all humanity
don't put a shilling in the meter

Later I meet myself
in a shell of who I used to be in a picture
painted hastily
on a background
which I cannot see
and what was once no longer is or was it ever and did I once was clever too or were the words electricked through the nodes that boded ill?
Will it stay or will it go
somewhere out there
do you know
or are you waiting for the leads that lead you to electric feeds?
Can someone bring me bread and water
call my Mother
call my daughter
or like the lamb led to the slaughter
will I bleed to death?

Exquisite torments,
Her body, voice, my leaving—
Freedom above all.

Pale blue
baleful too
Mourning
morning
and the day begins
grins at me from behind the sky
slyly
wryly
I arise
wash the sleep
and my eyes
blue
sorrowful too
and I grin from behind the mask
all I ask is all there
glaring at times
and at times
daring me to break away
the day reins me in
from behind the sky comes another grin
a guffaw
and then more than my ears care to hear.

Fear the day
fear the way it captures the heart and wants you to live
carry a shiv
stab at it
grab at its glory
make a story from the fear that would trap you
wrap it round your little finger
**** on it and let its sweet taste linger
but fear the day just the same as it plays its frames about the screen that is your eyes
pale blue
behind the sky
we die just enough to enjoy and it's tough
to live
and then say,
'give me more are you waiting for an invitation
do you want each day to change and for every situation
to halt and arrange a moratorium?'

The crematorium will burn just as well
whether we're going to Heaven or bound in chains and heading for hell
this soul would do well to remember and write this in his journal.
The infernal cacophony of philosophy does me no good
I am the tree that cannot see but locked in a wooden embrace
with a wooden face
and behind the sky grins
at my wonderings
and I,
mourning
morning
place my hopes on a tomorrow that does not come.
For some it seems
those that live and die in dreams
tomorrow
is a shadow in the waking of the day which in a way is what I see
but what I see is not what I get
the day reins me in and once again I forget the story line
in time
I will
forget it all.

She spoke in pigeon patois
but I knew what she meant as
she leant over me and I could see
what she wore next to her skin.
'Begin',
she said.

I began and I ran through the reasons why this was such fun
and she laughed
like a draft of fresh air that comes through a door
and I saw even more.

Her teeth gleamed pearl white in the red light of the harbour
my ship had come in.
and she said,
'begin'

I can't blame a soul
for being soulless
I cannot keep control
on a broken conscience

sent back
flashing fear
furious invisibility
of all the things
who knew
that this would **** me

One day
I shall lay
in the garden of remembrance
and forget
everything
I ever
knew.

Outside we squabble,
Birds circle, confusions, rows,
Eagle flies above.