the dragon soars . . . with hidden swords
the reverend knows the hand of an emperor
in the palm of a boy’s kindness
an old secret that nobody’s meant to know
his life in the spiky balance
who took it?

red healing sand . . . alone
celebrating the child within
crashing white miracles on blue-green motion
every glad step succumbs to cleansing effacement
no-one else there
but the eye of the lens capturing almost all
who took it?

moist dream kept alive . . . gentle pulses
sensing the curve beneath the waves
view obscured by tender energy
waiting for clarity to come
other things must fall and leave things stark
for the circle to keep turning
who took it?

and who took the smiles from the face
I've come to love?

award

Odd, the need to parade the best. Much like
putting on show all the biggest hardons.
For all to see.
The floppies watch from the sidelines, like stalkers.
They know theirs have better toys later
to ride out old storms.
  

put it in a letter

So says the very sinner, letting the offended leave.
Hail false proclamations and now the poor blob
runs far away.
Crying for the flat tree to watch over
royal bratlings.

season**
See now, near a full year.
You hold your fort, who knows how, really.
Grant the day you quill a line
and slant smiles again, like
red trails on snow.

what a land of stones and sticks

could say its schemes rhymes with Styx

from bridges high, their evil spurts

over highways onto windscreen, splattered with

shoulders pulled out, arms fractured and red smears

put her down to mute the screech of pain

an old lady can't bear all that along with high blood



a saintly man held high is hardly dead

and **** starts coming down in chunks

must get out, must get out, while I can

it's all unravelling in a bad way

colossal

When did buildings decide to tower so high?
perhaps history told truth, civilizations need
to be toppled by forces calamitous
the machine chews on; sly, colossal horror
humanity outstripped.



tired

I try to keep my eyes open, but I'm so tired
there's no quiet spot left
Just want to rest my candle, but it blows out; still
perhaps, when that lea calls one day
I can rest a bit: no more fencing.




In the silence**

You beckon attention with slanted diffidence
but indifference puts paid to embraces advancing less.

They come to you, insidious and a kind of shunning occurs
which numbskull holds the bag of water over your convictions?

In the silence of your perambulation, despite bidding a quiet tongue,
the hissing from the charnel nearby escaped you; and it was dark.

Butter
I fed an orange today and got butter.
Dreaming a quiet hum and they are gone
miscreants and perpetrators
only later, some see how it goes.
A saucer ******* them up in a shaft of cold light
away
extract memories on far off meteors
and drone on:
how 'bout a kiss?

Grow
Old liberties absconded and voices eschewed
don't dare grow your own field
crush the eggs
drain to soil, fresh milk
just a lesson to show who's not been good follower:
can we kiss now?


Wave**
Sad bad wave, a bad wave
breeding crooked hands and sarcastic crooks
holding onto the last flanges
unravelling free forces
knifing another rogue mutt afresh:
quit asking again.

Crush our confidence, like eggs.
Drain away care through
the blood of (our) young.

change

beautiful child in a bubble, so touched by life
won’t you please come home?

a heartbeat  holy in the method of conformity, of broken rules
                  raindrops pelt their cleansing transfusions onto your hide
how you survived the barrage of all your terms in there
                  the spitting on you and kicking your liver
they gave you everything not intended for your path, penalty unsought
                  but you were so terribly bent on making change
you wanted to run free
                  no reins on your breathing and untethered to ropes
you wrought freedom for the couch sitters from the toil of your blood
                  forgiveness never late
justice runs blind into the night and a bus catches flame
                  a knock at the door, two uniformed soldiers with a flag
you're at the wrong house, my friend
                  please go away




bail

a signpost showed direction and you cantered off, away from there
the only friends you made were the shadows on the bridge at midnight
when your *** got bailed out by even more hopeless sods
you have quite a story to tell, when you get to land again (if you do)
on the goodness of soil
a wooden chair on a stage, lit by candles on the edge
                   you will speak your words
the ones you never could
                   it’s been so hard when they always flitted out of grip
yet you are the one who will bring it round



hunger**

the knight knows well to aid the sufferer
                   but in the dark woods one never knows
hunger comes in all forms and deeds are cloaked by trees
                    moving truth into obscurity
a matchbook sends intermittent sparks of redemption to level the fields
I struggle to see how this is kept together
bring me closer


child of the rains, step out that puddle
there’s warmth in a heart your senses have yet to fully appreciate
please come home

in the early morn of day comes a piercing shaft of light
upon the platform placed, prepared for settling
(and for planting)

it takes a while for things to reach a fine state of maturity
yet things reach state of bliss when arable thoughts become real
and the day shines bright on the one who comes
to pick the rose
which grows slow and steady
awaiting the fleeting brush of fingertips to graze


this


quivering
                                          soul