#1970
Nuclear storm
Clouds of death
When the bell rings
Get under your desk
Pledge allegiance
Recite the prayer
Stand for glory
Cut that hair
Gun safety classes
Learn to submit
Hunting and fishing
Drivers permit
Go to college
Join the force’s
Break you vows
Quick divorces
Rock in roll
Motown soul
Thai stick
Acapulco gold
Good times
Bad times
LSD state of mind
50 years ago
Still I’m doing fine!
Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 7:49 AM UTC
I surveyed the scene
about me
it was our first camp base
and out tents
were in a field
a guide pointed out
It was raining heavy
and I and this ex-army guy
ran towards our tent
and once there
we clambered inside
and zipped up
They say the rain in Spain
he said
but didn't finish
we could hear the rain
hit the canvas
above our heads
there was little room
in the tent to do much
so we lay on our sleeping bags
our cases unopened
by our sides
I mused on Miriam
and wondered who
she was shacked up with
ex-army spoke about
his time in the army
and his mother's new boyfriend
whom he loathed
and I hoped the rain
would soon stop
so I could get
a beer and burger
with fries from the cafe
in the main building
and find Miriam
but it rained still
and I listened half-heartedly
as Ex-army got on
with his dismal speech
and I wanted Miriam
but she
was far from reach.
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 3:49 AM UTC
Tried my luck, under the roof of the New York Dodgers dome
Didn’t make roster, hopped on Route 66, went to another city
Ended up at the front gates of Walter Disney’s home
Which has been re-zoned to downtown LA, oh what a pity
Walked the streets, buzzing to pollinate all the beehives
Saw some Fred Astaire dudes, showing off their colorful jives
Wandered down a blackened, one way street
And who the **** do you think I would meet?
The one and only knife wielding ghetto **** Huggy Bear
Who said, I wasn’t now, looking all that smug, oh dear
Then along came his crew, Bonnie and Clyde
Now I wanted somewhere to ******* well hide
All of a sudden, a striped tomato pulled up and out jumped Starsky n Hutch
Yelling out to the **** Huggy Bear, who spoke double-dutch
Leave the boy alone, and go on and get back on home
Thank god you showed up, for I was ‘bout to write my last poem.
Sep 26, 2019
Sep 26, 2019 at 12:25 AM UTC
The air was different back then, somehow lighter, less heavy metals floating around and nuclear sunsets I suppose. I was born in the 60's but the 70's are my era, long hair, flares, large collars and music that still haunts today. What you need is children to amalgamate past, future, present. With their mp4's, downloads, (records and CD's old hats no one's wearing anymore ) tv box set binges, live pause, catch up, iPads, iPhones, igiveup. Technology speaks to them in so many different tongues and guises, the world has shrunk down to "someone is typing" messages from the other side of the world, nay the universe, friendships based on snapchat, facebook, twitter that don't even have the decency to start with a capital letter, Skype, facetime, with people you don't even have to 'know' coming round wanting tea and outstaying their welcome, instead hanging back in the ether waiting for the right moment the right meme to slot into the conversation. I sit and let it all wash over me, a tide ebbing and flowing long into the night, stretching time zones and bedtimes to the limit, in fact talking beyond bed, those waves never sleeping always whispering, I share music and photographs that are things from my life, they will never understand beyond the boring stories I tell them, a fount of useless information that flows, analogue from the corner of the room, the old man, the old days, you never had it so good, I am in awe, everything new, all to discover, everything to play for, world full of possibilities, not the same old 9-5 humdrum waiting for the weekend so we can pretend to be free again, it's all happening now. I enjoy these moments as an observer, no need to join in just sit and smile, with an occasional LOL or amusing emoji. My daughter bought Hotel California on vinyl the other day, I'm still in there, somewhere.
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
he was tossing a baseball with his friends when he saw her.
she was riding the yellow bicycle down 1st avenue,
as she passed his house, a thin string linked the two together.
every day she would pass his house, the string became stronger.
the first day she stopped in his driveway, he was dumbfounded.
her soft, blond hair was pinned back with a small headband, but one strand happened to escape the confinement to frame her slender face.
she was the definition of grace, her slacks hugging to her slim figure in the most delicate way.
the string never seemed so robust as she neared his front door.
they spent that day together, in a comfortable and slightly stiff silence, led zeppelin playing faintly in the background.
in slow motion, he watched as she tucked the piece of hair behind her ear nervously. she caught him watching, her cheeks burning and a grin creeping onto her face.
and in that moment, he vowed she would be his forever.
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:20 PM UTC
Madrid is where
you were ripped off
by some trader,
where we ate
that god-awful meal,
but the art was good,
and the sunshine
warmed us through,
and the wine
or Bacardi and coke,
and the base camp tents
were o.k.
You didn't like
Sans Sabastion;
I went to mass
at the Burgos cathedral;
you said you would
give it a miss.
Malega where
Picasso was born
was your favourite place.
The base camp
was good and that night
at the disco
up until the small hours
dancing and drinking.
And the Spanish guys
were dancing too,
eyeing up the girls,
giving them
the language thrill,
but we went to my tent,
but the ex-army guy
was asleep there so
I walked you to your tent
and walked back
to my own
neither of us alone.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
The Moroccan moon
above us shining
as we lay in that
sand dune hugging close.
Up at the base camp
the sound of singing
and an old guitar
being played. Voices
floating down to us
singing and laughter.
We lay there kissing
seeking moon's shadow
hearing the sea's roar.
You took off your shorts
and pink underwear
as the moon played you
and I undressed too.
We missed the party
and hullabaloo
and the hard drinking
from old wine bottles.
On the edge of it
the world turned about
as we lay there sexed
and undone in dark
with the wind's slight moan
touching our young heads
in our sand dune beds.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
We went to a mosque
in Tangiers; had to take
off our shoes or sandals
in her case. And it had
a certain something about
it: peacefulness and holiness
and sunlight was there and
water. And she said: I hear
that girl with the long blonde
hair had her handbag stolen
right off her shoulder; they
cut the straps; they gave chase,
but lost him the side streets.
I liked the patterns and purity
of the place. I stood gazing
around, taking it all in. So I
decided to hold my handbag
tight in my hand when I walk
around now, Miriam said.
Good idea, I said, breathing
in the atmosphere, sensing I'd
walked into a whole different
world in time: colours, patterns.
Where shall we go afterwards?
She said, I'm thirsty. We'll go
get a coke, I replied, sensing
her boredom beside me. I took
a last look around and followed
her out into the street, after getting
the shoes and sandals for our feet.
We found a place and got cokes
and French rolls and salads, and
sat and talked. She about the girl
and the thief, and I mused on her
cute *** on the seat and red painted
nails on her opened sandalled feet.
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
They watched
the snake charmer
in Tangiers,
a belly dancer
in some night club
where the *****
was expensive
and the air full of smoke
and noise.
Arriving back at base camp
they went their separate ways,
each to their own tent
which they shared
with another.
She wished it was him
in her tent,
not that other girl
who spoke almost non stop
about this and that.
He lay in his sleeping bag
musing on her.
His friend lay asleep
in the sleeping bag
over the way.
He recalled her excitement
watching the snake charmer
with his pipe blowing
and the snake seemingly
hypnotized moving slow.
He wished she was there
beside him,
kissing and making love,
but she was elsewhere,
not there,
and a sense of frustration
in him and the air.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 3:07 AM UTC
Your brother and you
sat in the common room
of the abbey: you a monk
and he a teacher, your
conversation carried on
in soft voices. I sat on a
chair by the radiator and
window peering out at the
cloister in the summer
evening below. You laughed
softly at a comment on
some past event; he smiling
at the memory of you two
as boys. The cloister garth
was empty; both moon and
retiring sun occupied the sky.
A black robed monk went
past my view below, then
out of sight, where I did
not know. Soon be supper,
you said, see you before
the office of Compline. You
left and the door closed.
Your brother retired to his
room along the passage.
I watched as the sky grew
dim; the shadows appeared
in the cloisters where light
could not reach. Across
the way a monk walk past
his window unaware I secretly
watched his walk. Soon be
supper in the refectory,
I mused, leaving my window
seat, leaving the radiator
and its welcoming heat.
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
The tall monk
with Parkinson's
stood giving communion
to those who lined up
during Mass.
His hand shook
as he placed the host
on the tongue.
I held open my palms
and he placed
the host there.
The Christ,
the body,
the sacrifice.
After he had provided all
he walked back slowly
to his place at the altar
and continued the service,
two other monks
with him.
I knelt in a pew;
the tongue absorbing
the bread, the host,
the Christ.
The incense hung
on the air;
the smell so familiar.
Closing my eyes
I uttered a prayer
and waited listening
to the chanting
going on there.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC
O look,
Miss Pinkie said,
I see your pecker
begs for its supper.
I heard Mahler's 1st
from the lounge:
2nd movement.
She lay back
on her bed
on her back
and spread
her plump thighs.
Come ride a **** horse,
she said
in whispered voice.
How she lies so
to do so.
I climbed into her saddle
and shafted into gear.
Her large soft
pillowy *******
welcomed me
motherly.
Her voice
reduced to whispers
whispered me on,
over hill and down dale.
See how he rides
like a ship in storm,
tossed back and forth
through froth and wave;
then cast a shore;
him the sailor
and I the *****
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 8:55 AM UTC
Goodbye to Benedict 1970.
Miriam stood on the platform.
The train was almost out of sight.
Shan't see him again. Two weeks
then no more. The train had gone.
She turned and made her way out
of the station. She hated the thought
of not seeing Benedict again. They
had grown quite close in those two
weeks abroad. That time in Paris when
I fell asleep in his lap on the coach.
The radio was playing a piece by Beethoven.
So romantic. And that first time we made
love in San Sebastian in the tent and it
rained outside. Now he has gone home
too far away to meet again. She waited
for her bus. The dull sky looked like rain.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
I watched Miriam
walk over to two Arabs with a camel
along the Mediterranean beach
outside Tangiers.
She was trying
to get them to understand
what she wanted.
She beckoned me over
with a wave of a hand.
I walked over.
I want a photo taken
of me and the camel,
she said.
I took out my camera
and made gestures
with the camera
the camel and her.
The Arabs nodded their heads
and smiled and spoke words
which meant nothing.
They led the camel beside her
and walked nearby.
I took aim
and pressed the button.
The click came.
She stood there uncertaintly .
I paid the guys
and they walked off
with the camel.
Did you get me
and the camel?
She said.
Sure I did,
I said.
I put the camera away
and we walked up the beach
to the bar for a coke
and smoke.
Aug 29, 2017
Aug 29, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
The coach drew up
at the base camp
in Malaga.
Miriam and I
got off
and eyed the scene
the area of tents
and bars
and camp restaurant
and the club house
where they had discos
in the evening until late.
We followed our guide
who showed us
where our tents were.
I was with an ex-army guy
Miriam was with
some other dame.
See you later
at the bar
she said.
Will do
I replied.
The ex-army unzipped
the tent
we clambered in
with our bags
then he zipped up again.
Better than
the last camp
he said morosely.
I placed by bag
to one side
and got out
my sleeping bag
and lay on it
to rest
for a short while.
He unpacked
his sleeping bag
(better than mine
probably ex-army)
and lay down
staring at the roof
of the tent.
He talked about
his army days
and about his mother's
new boyfriend
and how he didn't
get on with him
and how he only left
the army because
of his nerves
and depression.
I listened
but in my mind's eye
it was Miriam
there **********
and I thinking
that a blessing.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
She had a fading tattoo
on her thigh
which caught my eye.
Winnie asked me
to help her
bath Florence
as she was alone
and I wasn't busy.
You don't mind
if Benny helps me
bath you
do you Florence?
Winnie said.
Me?
no make my day
for a young feller
to see my tattoo again
first time
in many years
I can tell you
Florence said.
Used to be
a dancer
back in
the early days
danced on stage
up in London
and sometimes
when we toured
we went all
over the place.
Once Winnie
had helped
Florence undress
I saw the tattoo clearer
it was in blue and pink
and was of a dancer
doing the can-can.
Is that what
you did Florence
the can-can?
Winnie said.
Yes that
and other dancing too
did more than
dancing too
other times
she laughed.
I smiled.
She had her
grey hair long now
as Winnie
had unpinned
the hair to wash it.
Had a young feller
who wanted
to marry me
but he got himself
killed at Mons
and that was that.
Another one came
back blinded
and although
I could have
married him
I wasn't keen
on marrying
a blind bloke
you know what
with me dancing
and touring
and having to
help him
I couldn't do it.
I think he married
some other girl.
Florence went quiet
had my chances
but never did marry.
Bet you were a looker
when you were young
Winnie said.
Got a photo
in my drawer
when I was a dancer
one of those sepia jobs
faded a bit like me
but you can see me
as I was then.
We eased Florence
down in the bath.
I wondered how many
other men had seen her
like I did
but didn't ask or say.
Once in the bath
Winnie did her back
and Florence talked on
all about once upon.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 3:59 AM UTC
There was that cathedral
in Burgos
the crowds of people
the priest
at the far end
taking Mass
in Spanish
not Latin
as it used to be.
Benny is beside me
I sat with him
on the coach
from the start.
All through Paris
and France
and into Spain.
I lay my head
against his shoulder
through Paris
and I vaguely heard
the radio playing
Beethoven stuff.
I felt his hand
holding mine
my thigh
touching his.
I kissed him
in the semi dark
of the coach.
I felt funny inside
I wanted to open up
to him like a morning flower
but I couldn't
too many people
about us.
We took
communion at Burgos
making our way
to the altar end
the crowds rushing
at the priest
as if he were a vendor
of wine and bread.
Be careful on the trip
my parents said
those foreigners
can be tricky.
I feel Benny near
and feel funny inside
feel sticky.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
After we set up our tents
Miriam and I
walked into Madrid.
We went to the Prado
looked at the art
at the Fra Angelicos
and Titians.
Then we had coffee
in a cafe.
I see you liked
the Eve painting
by Durer
she said.
Yes I like that
I said
and the Venus paintings
by Titian.
What is it with men
and **** paintings
always out to look
at ******
she said.
We enjoy the beauty
of God's creation
the artists were not
ashamed to show that
why hide what
God made
so beautifully?
I said.
So God made my
beautiful
****** then?
she said.
Of course
I said
mind you I'll need
to see it again
to comment further
can't see that much
in the darkness
of the tent.
She sipped
her coffee
we will see
that was a fluke
that that girl
I share with
was off with another
for the day
seeing the cathedral
in the Burgos
and other sights.
Shame she's not away
more and elsewhere
I said
for other nights.
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 4:04 AM UTC
Marseilles was good
Miriam and Benny
got off the coach
with others
and walked about
for a while
had coffee
and a bite to eat
at some cafe
and saw the sights
hand in hand.
I could live here
Miriam said
if I had a job
and you were here
with me.
No can do
I have a job
back home
to go back to
but it is a place
I guess you could
enjoy living in
Benny said.
Near the sea
and fishing boats
and fish everyday
she said.
And what
about nights?
he said
we could walk along
by the port and stand
and watch the moon
sitting on the sea.
And have ***
in some place
where we had a view
of the sea
she said.
The others were
walking back
to the coach
so they walked back too.
Marseilles had
been good
Benny mused
with a splendid view.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
Insightful
or so it was
meant to be
time spent
in the monastery
more like self deception
one of the worst
deceptions,
auto-inganno
the Italian monk said
as we walked across
the field to the abbey,
amour de Dieu
the French monk said
I watched his lower lip
large and indulged looking,
smell of incense
in the church after Mass
light from high windows
on the flagstone floor
especially at lunch time
during Sext,
extra ecclesiam nulla salus
Augustine said
no salvation outside
the mystical body
of Christ,
tall thin monk
planing wood
in the workshop
shavings falling
to the floor
curled up
I swept up after
wondering who swept up
in St Joseph's
carpenter's workshop,
corpo di Cristo
held up by the Italian monk
during Mass
no longer bread,
I ate in the refectory
the monk reading
about Mary Tudor's life
light through window
onto the features of the monk
opposite as if blessed,
Dom James teaching us
about the plainsong
the notes and how long
to hold the notes
in unison all together
no harmony he said
and under the above lamp
his tonsured head
seemed red.
Mar 25, 2017
Mar 25, 2017 at 3:32 AM UTC
The Mediterranean Sea
is out there
Miriam said.
You and she
sat on the beach
looking out at the sea
lit up by the moon.
You and she
had just made love
in a small sand dune.
Stars sparkled over head
and over the sea.
And we are here
you said.
Behind you
up the beach
was the camp base
and the tents.
A party was going on
which you both
had sneaked away from
to be alone
and have ***
She looked up
at the sky:
I guess my mother
is looking
at this moon now
Miriam said
she likes gazing
at the moon
but she is in England
and we are here
in Morocco
but same moon.
The party was noisy
you could hear music
and singing from the beach.
Those stars may
have burnt out
hundreds of years ago
or more
but we still see the light
from maybe dead stars
you said.
She lay down
and you lay beside her.
She kissed you
and put her arms
about you again.
She was still naked
from the waist down
so were you.
Someone
was playing a guitar
the sound hung in the air.
You made love again
without worries or care.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 3:36 AM UTC
Orange brick
in evening sun
dull and warm
and I felt with my fingers
as I passed,
il silenzio permette
lo spazio per Dio parli
the Italian monk said
placing two fingers
to his lips,
I hoed between the plants
in the abbey garden
sunlight upon me
like God's blessing,
smelt incense
with body sweat
and baked loaves
as I stood
in the choir stalls
before Vespers,
la oración es
un acto de amor
lasalabras no son
necesarias
St Teresa said
so I read,
I picked up
a handful of earth
and held it
in my palm
and crumbled it
between finger and thumb
like some
ancient conqueror
after battle,
the tall thin monk
tolled the big bell
pulling on the rope
with ease
then releasing it
and grabbing again
pulled,
silenzio e spazio
letting God in
where once
was noise and muddle,
prayer is love
no words needed
a saint said,
amour et prière
Dom Placid said to me
as we walked
in the cloister
before Terce,
interno la pace
as well as outer peace
the monk told me
harder to obtain
too much going on
within,
interius silentium
I stood on the seashore
and watched
the waves come in
trying to empty of self
but the sea could not
drive me from me.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
I walked the cloisters
smelt the incense
listened to the birds sing,
discamus aliorum merita
cicatricesque cautio
saith Jerome
Dom Charles said,
the old monk sliced
a thin slice
of brown bread
with slow deliberateness
as if he prayed
as he sliced,
I hoed the flower bed
at the back of the abbey
sun on my shoulder
shadow playing
before me,
l'ombra giocato prima di me
I told the Italian monk
as we sat peeling potatoes
in the cloister after Terce,
dans le cloître après Terce
that time I hoovered
the cloisters
deep in thought,
nel pensiero profondo
I mused on that death
and the after affect
and how it hurt me,
mi ha fatto male
the Italian monk said
to relate that my uncle
was one of Benito's followers
but we all make errors,
tous font des erreurs
to err is human
to forgive is divinus
the monk thin
and haunted looking,
I opened the breviary
and read
moving my finger
following the chant
in my ears,
the sky dark
sprinkled stars
I mused on
Pascal's fears.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC
Did you get a photograph
of me standing by the camel
on the beach?
Miriam asked.
Yes I did,
I said,
the two Arabs
didn't look impressed
with you in your bikini though.
I was clothed;
it wasn't as though
I had nothing on,
she said.
No,
but you know
what they're like
with women,
I said.
****** them Benny,
I am here on holiday;
what do they think
I'm going to do
wear a long dress
and head scarf
in this heat?
Never mind,
I said,
it is done now,
and I have taken the photo.
Will you send me a copy
of the photo
once we are back in England?
Of course I will
if you give me your address,
I said.
Make sure it is an envelope;
I don't want my parents
seeing me in my bikini,
she said.
I will seal it in an envelope
out of prying eyes,
I said.
We looked out
at the Mediterranean.
The water was calm and blue
and the sky a kind of white blue.
The sun hot and pouring
its heat on us.
Do you miss me nights?
She said.
Of course I do,
but the tents are only made
for two not three,
I said smiling.
She tapped my arm:
maybe when your friend
goes into Tangiers next
we could,
she said.
If he goes,
I said.
Hope he goes,
Miriam said.
And the memory of her
in my tent
the other day
buzzed around my head.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 4:24 AM UTC