vincent van gogh
(all been said before)
from his blog:
some bright colours

a chair and some clogs
an impossible door
stars like gods
but more:

what did he know?
(as  in go) or care
look at the crows
so cut an ear

a good start
a tricky wing
hang fire and one
in the heart..

i met a man of the circus
you could here it
his fathers-
clowns and light-


magic and applause..
he said won´t you play-
his handle-bars!?
(am i a charity..)

listen-la´s-give it away
for love or if you have to eat
and god bless the fray..
once, i knew an honest

man..say,

ii

lily,you would think,
strange, had lost it´s
currency

in this day and age..
-language is meaningless
soon,we will just babble..

on screens
scream and howl
like camera caged

owls-our feathers
terminally ruffled
of  outrage..

iii

(sounds familliar..)
it is not the one´s
with purple hair

but  hearts pierced
with nothing
to look out for-

they care for nada
(not even money)
and certainy not

for the stars
they really don´t want it
or just a reasonable part..

i


is it easier to hate
than love she enquires
with a sultry tongue out..

sounds like is it easier to
hate-then love
with a very thin piece

of paper attatched to her
licking apparatuce..
something about a lettuce?

no..is it easier to love
than hate..?no,is it
easier to hate than love..

ii

i once had a banjo
i worked three weeks
weeding a field..

i digress..love and hate, lily?
a hoary old chessnut..
she pops her tongue back

in..can,indeed there be one
with-out the other?
do you hate me sometimes?

indubitably..it soon
dissipates like mists
over the seas..

it´s brievity quite
and quietly
hope  you don´t notice..
sometimes,i hate you..

iii

do you think poe
feels the same
i don´t know if

they are capable of
such complexities
that is rather patronising

what about your banjo
i put it in a pawn shop
when i was hungry o..

p.s.-what of silence?
it is beauty
it is conspiracy

is it god
hesitation
or creation

or destuction
a laugh
a tear

a swish of
the devil´s tail
a minutes or

a google
sparrow **** or
the last bugle..

poetry is music
just with-out the music
the stars are music
just with-out music

your beauty is music
and so on..
music is music
but what of silence..

so i should share my beans
with you
because i have 5 and you
have none-

poe is irate-
you know what we get
in the jungle
nothing..

poe looks on cynically
pausing in his ablutions-
so,we should have some
kind of moral conscience

we should  care for others..?
has nt it all been done-
every revolution is betrayed
lilly touches an ear and

droplets decorate her crown
an ancient beauty
stars are stray and gone
in love by comparison..

in the bath
we are sad..now..
long ago

we wore black
dusty of toe
purple of nose..

the sun was so hot
and love too..
how the breeze blew..!

o wine was sweet!
blue was blue
spaghetti, a time

of excitement-
never wanted for anything
when we were young..

ii

will you wash my back?
come here poe darling
you have suds on your whiskers

writing in a spontaneous
fashion
wonders who i am..

i

in the bath
we laugh..read on!-
what is that tapping?

¨´tis some visitor¨ i muttered
¨tapping at my chamber door-
only this and nothing more..!¨

what is it?
poe..
no-

you like poe?
no, what-
no-?

be ye iconclast?!
no, what is that noise?
like a forrest burning..

o that is poe!!
(small feline
he want´s in-

very possesive..o..
come in, poe?!
come on..!!?

ii

hello poe!!
hello my darlin!
ah, he does judge me

so!?..no,
i like hop-frog,
the tell-tale heart,
and the erm black cat..

i

she blows a bubble
a universe of colors
i think,
examining light-
horses are over-rated..
well, i once was bitten
by a snake..
shadows are fitting-
obscurity is a luxury
i was trying to help it..
we enjoy our wine..
(i liked wine but i used it-
not so much as a social crutch
as more of an anaesthetic..)

ii

are you hungry?
i don´t know what is
in the fridge (but not animal)
go and see..

i

as poly succinctly has it
-identity is the crisis can´t
you see

but to know yourself is
taboo..
unless lily quips

you know yourself
as an utter xxxx
and don´t care..

ii

ah, we are in the bath again
(strangers without pain)
candles aflickering..

conversation as bubbles..
bowie sings we are the
dead on a bootleg..

iii

who do you like
i like whitman
he got me through..

he will..
such a lovely human
i have n´t read him

for so long
i want to
but don´t..

iv

what about the beats
i like lew welch
anyone else..

the russians
for me it´s
serendipity..

v

time goes hey
now your old
i have never

been on horse back
never mind
i don´t..

i

practise and work
that is the life
for we artists..

i mean, it may not
be any good..
but we metamorphose

from human to a god
no problem-o-
we have a choice..

ii

we love and regret
just effing notice
someone-

i mean i exist..
(a drowning fish
perhaps..)

iii

remember when we
met!?
you were a purple head..

i asked you for light
and you hid in the toilet-!
everything was purple..

i did not hide-
i knew you would follow
and cast a trail

a cosmic path from my
soul to yourn
-together

we died and were
born
when you peered

over the door
for a light..
heaven and hell..

iv

we are happy
we are sad
lily laughs..

i laughed-
a purple devil?!
we had a bath..

v

remember-
i asked who you were
under a spell

you said well
it is all so odd
i can´t say..

we are happy..
we are sad..
lily laughs..

mental health-
what a conumdrum!
but not funny-

if you re lost,
in confusion,
and pain..

but the answer!-
is between our eyes
gentle as the rain..

ii

like the grass,
(whitman knew..)
like the truth-

shoot,i can be
anybody
identity..(x-ray specs)

i

why do i write?
to remember
not to forget
that is a fear

as one ages..
one thing leads to
another-
music helps..

and not-
to be fixed
or crucified
to the moment..

somewhere between
young and old
now and then
writing

is fun..
but kind of painful
sometimes
interesting

sometimes not
sometimes there is hope
and ambition
love and hate..

ii

i like to write
drink tea
and sing..

as old as man
brave
in my cave..

i

i was ****** lily laughs
but why bother i ask you
if not for lot´s of money
and applause..

the green room of god
the creative urge and you
know so effing bored
and look at this-

pip pip another rejection
slip..
not suitable..!?
ha!

(a suitable epitaph..)
they called me
a star..
is a star is a star..

ii

dancing under the stars
i say lord above
out and out
savage loved

once but that
amigos
is enough
la..!

why do i write?
because..
breathing will not
stop..

why do i write?
because i can´t..
why..
plop..!

why do i write?
because i can´t stop..
why do i breath
why not plop!

i

you are going to get us
banned,lily
i can see that one coming
they say-they say-

you can see the future?
(i was about to say
kudos to hello poetry
for their tolerance..)

i think it is intuition
she sniffs..
and what may that be?
wait a tic

i will consult the dictionary..
that is spooky erm stuff!?
what about subconscious
manipulation...?

ii

suggestion or coincidence
or just wishful thinking
confusion..

guessing or a superstition
knowing-ancient power
man nature together..

iii

o lily they will burn thee
for a witch
your heart of straw

we itch..
go further-go further
the sparks will fly

the night will howl-
pretty and clever
we see the past..

i

i like that one lily
but it has to blend
with your geraniums
and how to bake the perfect

apple pie -your stars
where to stay in crete
(and it does n´t..)
i stayed in crete-

it was so cheap!
we rented a house-
how many could sleep
in so small a place..?

sleeping on the roof
under the stars
pretty enough?
communal meals..

and to the dance
under the stars
lovely but no
electricity..

ii

they don´t want to hear
about your sordid excesses
bless..

i have to write what i
have to write
there would be no point

in writing about flowers
and lonely hours
and why you left

(that is obvious)
leaving me bereft
i went

because you imbibed
howled and cried
-i am not perfect

but i came back
what is worst-living
with you or with-out..

i don´t know, skin up and
we will consider
bless her..