Ok!
I'll write
a poem about flowers for you
but this is something
that I never do

I don't know
the difference
between the flowers I see
and owls and pigeons sound the same to me

I can't discriminate
between
an oak and an elm
The world of trees for me
is another realm

My friend Keith Wilson
has a gardener's green thumb
and this is how
he earned his income

We are all surfing 
under the surface of the sea
running into sunken wrecks
from ancient histories

Though the currents are strong
and the darkness cold
with courage we carry 
their baggage of old

Drunken sailors and their wives 
made a mess of our lives
but we seem to have survived
their promises and lies

In a dream one day
dressed in a soldier's kit
I was in a deep ditch
laying down in it
in a flow of water
that I could not feel
as a soldier sprayed bullets
that felt really real

It may have been a memory
for I was born after the war
then I may have been a soldier
on the other shore

Person
is
nothing more than
an actor in
a communal script
written by corpses
in a karmic crypt

Place
is
nothing more than
a thought about
imagined
territory

Time
is
nothing more than
a bursting bubble
in the sea
of eternity

I am not your mother
I’m another person
appearing in your life
I took you as my wife

Yet you see me
in a different way some days
when distant memories
can carry you away

Then subterranean things begin to happen
tremors from fracking
toxic gases get injected way below
the layers of the life we think we know

I am not your mother
I’m another person
appearing in your life
I took you as my wife

On pain of death
no word will rhyme
on my ****** page
The temptation will be resisted
My heels will dig
during this tug of war
between you and me
and I will win

In this poem of mine
every line
will rhyme
every time

While the sun shines
on my glass of wine
I'll take my time
It'll turn out fine

I will be kind
to your mind
Every line
will be refined

It will be a crime
If I'm unable to find
a word that rhymes
every time

My soup will beat any Michelin meal
Maybe mine is much more real
Though there's nothing in the bowl
it tastes so good
and every thing is understood
My favourite meal is onion soup
Every day I dine on ultimate truth
I eat my layers of onion one by one
I'm so happy when I get to the middle one
Sipping onion soup with my inner eye
What a wonderful taste, My Oh My!
When there's nothing to eat
nothing to chew
it's time to digest
There's nothing to do

It's a famous day, they say
And we  should be afraid
of knife crime in Rome
and closer to home

In the Indian Ocean
Watch out if it rains
Because you may never
Be seen again

On the Great Plains
The was so much snow
That hundreds died
They had nowhere to go

To escape from the wind
And from the cold
They never lived
Long enough to be old

The Tsar abdicated
On this day
The Bolsheviks began
To have their way

We need to take care
every lass and lad
It's not just in Rome
This day may be bad

And if Maggie is drinking
a coffee nearby
Watch out as the storm
Passes you by

Common Land
always owned
by people or a company
Seems a strange idea to me
We can walk and talk
out there
And sheep can graze
everywhere
But you cannot camp
on common land
unless you’re covered up
in wool
or big and brave
like John Bull

We rage at the clouds passing us by
Flashes of lightning catching our eye
Sorrow sprays down wetting our world
Both of us know what we see is absurd

This terrible storm keeps pretending to stay
Solid as stone it won’t go away
but both of us know the invisible truth
This is the way we play in youth

As shadows take shape in the space between
I don’t see you, you don’t see me
We dance with ghosts, their names on our cards
How many more will break our hearts

We smiled as we stared into the sun
on occasional days when we put down our guns
I remember our flashes of laughter and joy
when friends held hands like a girl and a boy

We wonder what it is
that catches the eye
or captures the mind
as words go by
jumping off the page
with ease
like energetic fleas
or like a castle
appearing in the mist
We wonder what it is

Our inner eye
will not see
any thing
outside our mind
when we take away
the layers of our onion
one by one

What do we hold?
A hair in our hand
as we stare
into empty space
with our featureless face
or inner eye
will not see
any thing
outside our mind

The home of his skull is in Rome
His blood's in a vial in Dublin
It's the day of this lover's last breath
the day of his date with death

Love is the name of his game
They play it all over the world
Everyone knows his name
every single boy and girl

I will wear her name on my sleeve
She'll receive all my attention
I'll tell her I'll never leave
We'll keep this love convention

But when my curtain
comes down
will you still be around
Will you stay
standing
on the floor
hands clapping
asking for
an encore

I feel like a rabbit
caught in a stare
afraid that someone
may see me out there

I think I see them
They think they see me
My world is full of
enemies

I'm frozen like a statue
in the middle of town
pretending there's nobody
else around

Looks like I'm meditating but
Fear is my name
My movie has stopped
I'm stuck in a frame

There's an army of shadows
waiting in the wings
They want to come
and do some thing

I wish I could be
anywhere else
other than here
where I'm safe and well

Stop this world
I want to get off
this spinning stage
I've had enough

I dreamed I was a wind walker
saw my mind smile
defied the law of gravity
each stride almost a mile

Effortless I flew
like wind or like sound
gliding through the air
an inch above the ground

Elation best describes
the feeling in my mind
liberated from the land
and the life I left behind

We think we can see
You and me

I see you
You see me

but who do we really see?

I know there is no you
I know there is no me

so who
do we really see?

We see a projection screen
The world we see we dream
The people with their faces
this world with all it's places
as real as a rainbow
or a shadow show

This we need to know

Surgery they say for Keith
and he sees the surgeon soon
Then he waits and within eighteen weeks
knows the date he'll be off his feet

He's now in his eighties
and gets around without a walking stick
He says the surgery is a bother
and he's not looking forward to it

Daphne and Colin
Alan and Ron
Norman and Norma
Others whose names
we forget
All Dead

the secret code
to separate the coin from the gold
Just try
to separate your scream from
your night time dream
Just try
to separate the parts from the car
you won’t get very far
Just try
to separate the legs from the table
you’ll find you won’t be able
Just try
to separate the reader of this rhyme
from the being that survives
death time
Just try

How many winters will I brave
How many things will I crave
How many summers will I see
How many people will I be
How many more tears will fall
How many times will I climb that wall
How many mentioned in my will
How many wishes unfulfilled
How many nights of restless sleep
How many promises will I keep
How many rainbows will I see
one or two or thirty three?

This Winter
surprisingly
is more like spring
No frozen pipes
No overcoats
Early bursting buds and tiny flies
Sunshine and short sleeve shirts
Sitting in the garden
out of sync
somewhat confused
Summer drinks
are on the tray
We're behaving like it's
a summer day

Silently
Grains of sand are falling slow
something like flakes of snow
that melt before they touch the ground

Silently
Moments come and moments go
No one even knows
like waves of sound

Silently
We drive the winding road
Life after life with nought to show
but still we double down

Silently
Flying high and swooping low
falling like a crippled crow
another king uncrowned

The antisocial media
Is spying with their cyber eye

They know more than we think
They tell us where to buy and sell
what to eat and what to drink

They siphon off our code
and tell us how to vote

Their surreptitious spin
explains the state that we are in

The privacy of ancient times
has drifted away
and the piracy of modern days
is here to stay

It seems to me
our times have become present perfect for many
For others our times have become tortured
and utterly imperfect

Cambridge Analytica knows
every thing about almost everyone
who is connected addicted infected
by a need to be seen and heard
by imagined minds

Cambridge Analytica
will tell and sell to anyone
who wants to be respected selected
elected

Cambridge Analytica
turned the tide in The British Isles
Their algorithms slithered
through the cyber-slush of Facebook
and found three million voters
who had never ever exercised
their democratic right
Then for gain they sold their names
to the ‘Leave’ campaign

And now those who were already rich but wanted more of it
have their Brexit

Here I sit all on my own
with noone else in sight
I don't mind if it's dark
or if there's some light

My company is fine for me
I don't need someone else
I've said so much all these years
I've no tales left to tell

The year is new they say
but seems to be the same
The people that I've known for years
play the same game
Cats and dogs don't celebrate
don't even know the date
To them there's nothing new
They're never early never late

It's Christmas time on earth
as we reveal
our astronomical ignorance
Poets discuss
the movements of the moon
rhymes and runes
where we are
what we see
and the direction
of our
trajectory

Rejoice in every moment
when the madness is seen
when a wedge is driven
in the dream

when the lies are not believed
by an awakening mind
and there is no searching
for things we cannot find

Rejoice in every moment
while the chains of karma break
link by link
and we awaken

Today another body-bit
bit the dust
twenty-four more teeth
will join this tooth
one day
somewhere
when that’s the end of this

Bits of body bits of mind
things we see but cannot find

They laid me down
stared inside
my open mouth
and took away
my old tooth
and my pain
Now I know
I’ll never be the same

Bits of body bits of mind
things we see but cannot find

I wondered today
if anyone has wondered
whether there is a center
to the universe
Godgle told me that
others have wondered
not about the wondering
but about the center

I am still wondering
no longer about the wondering
but about the center

Why does my body
rebel against my wishes
to walk or to talk
to tidy my house
to wander the world
or work?
Do I really need to sleep
to dive so deep
beneath the waves
of the day
to  run so far away

From the ethereal home
of every thing
come ideas and plans
schemes and dreams
in the mind of man
Ephemeral origins
of war and peace
Tormented by
invisible causes
of things that are seen
by horrified eyes
The birthing on earth
of villains and heroes
saints and sinners
losers and winners
A circular journey
from death to birth
from here to hell
and back again
cursed and blessed
by amnesia
not knowing the game
Playing and losing
again and again
The same old refrain

Gone are the psychedelic colours
Of autumn's empty palette
The trees skinned
by the violent winds of
November
Bare to the bony branches
Braving the silence
of Mister Winter's
minimalist contentment
and the echos
of summer birdsong

I have no excuse
this week
and no
poem either

Where is the centre
of the psychosis?
It's somewhere here
I'll find my mind
if I try to see
inside my heart
I'll find it there
inside the sphere
if I dare
in the centre
of everywhere

In the sea of reality
I feel the waves wash over me
one by one
and then return
to the place they came from
one by one

Sometimes in the warmth of the sun
and with someone
I am mostly alone
bitten by the breeze
and on the run
from wave to wave
a surfer trying
desperately
to stay away
from the sea

We behave in a strange way
you and me
trying to rearrange
the waves on the sea
or catching water while it falls
seeming as solid
as a wall

My journal is burning
While I write down the words
that never will be seen
and never will be heard

Burning coals cover the ground
fires starting all around
and I know the things I’ve lost
never will be found

It’s so hard to even start
when the ending is in sight
and the dreams of this night
will never see the light

I was mystified
in the midst
of the misery
of autumn
congestion and drip
until I remembered
decaying leaves
and **** spores
are responsible
for it

Here on planet earth
we’re all
‘B’ Movie Makers
marketing inanity
flirting with insanity
breaking down reality
seeking peas we cannot see
When we search beneath the cup
we find that
only empty space and air
fill it up

I'm leaving this
a little late
I hesitate
procrastinate
but soon
I'll see my son
across the sea
I'll see him
he'll see me
Jetlag is
a horrid hell
but then we'll have
some tales to tell
I wonder what
those tales will be
when I return
across the sea
We'll have to wait
and see

The first wave
in the autumn
sea
came today
A morning frost
though slight
portends
the loss of light
and the coming coolness
of the night

Beer bread and marmite
How would we live without it?
We let it ferment
for a few weeks
'til Janet returned
from Edinburgh

I wrestled with techno demons
all  day long
and in the end
I won
But the price I paid
was high
The loss of a day
aged sixty eight
late in life
makes me cry

Dear Jane

We have heard
you like the words
of Mister Wordsworth
We thought you might like
to join us once a week
in the lounge
as we make up rhymes
about old times
talk in our chairs
about current affairs
and focus our eyes
on the horizon

Untruths and lies abound
they’re found like flies
flying ‘round when someone’s died

As common as the air we breathe
as steady as the sun
Some people think they’re fun

How many people even know
what the truth is?
Something is amiss

I’m afraid to say, what’s on my mind
afraid that something true
may not please you

I fear for for my self
I’m running everywhere
escaping from your crosshairs

We all barter in this market
keep our reputation nice
with money and with dice

I had better brave the bullets
there’s nowhere to flee
and the Truth will set me free

Your rhyme which tells your tale so well
inspired me to respond in kind
My rhyme took some time
Here we sit mystified wondering asking why
and we cry
We know we failed to catch the water at the fall
We tried to save it all
The places from which we came have different names
and so we both play our own game
The languages we speak are not the same
When neither wins both are fools
and it’s impossible to follow rules
Two vows of silence might induce
perhaps, a lasting truce
but blinded eyes still replay all the stories that we know
and so we have nothing new to say
One tries to see clearly things appearing
The other tries to see more clearly
the empty space between these things

When we recline, and embrace, we close our eyes
close our mouths and we fly
For a while every thing is pacified
then stomachs and minds grumble
words stumble we fumble, become humbled
Each has a lesson to be learned
The prize will be earned one day
but the reason and the rhyme
will take some time
Nevertheless know there is no random hand at play here
Though hidden from view for me and you
behind the mystery we will find something true

The Rabbit never rests
never escapes
Perpetual terror
seems to be his fate

Shakes like a leaf
in the absence of wind
Tremors and trembles
come from within

Dangers around
surround that
very deep and very dark
black hat