the lotus eaters forgot
the suns´  slow descent
aglow this paradise set
down down and up

a gloryfying present
but certainly no past
and to future debt
a moment of love

attained the perfect
which will last
youth and beauty
for ever and on..

the moon is far
(until we develop
lazar)
the mayflower

gone..
there is always
the telephone but
where is one

to go..?

the moon is far
and what
would one
want

there..?
anyway day
and night
night and

days slip
by
without
your smile

without your
eyes
anyways
little blue
tape

in abarren
landscapes
dead seas
ah, tranquility
but pity..

the moon rose last night
like the last man´s sight
from his true loves´  eye..
(-cried a great wind´ s sigh..)

the sea whispered silvery
the still and blue agave
i thought of you
soft you´d say-
something that nailed my
dreams to the wing
also bleed like
wreaths..
a few word that burst
till cry
a word
till we die
sun and wise..
may we be on the
other
side
together
lily you and i..

(the more knowledge
gleaned
the less instinct
weaned)

once witches
small perhaps
eccentric somewhat
and followed
by thrush
sang
spied by curious
mice
sat on by old
ticks
munched the
fly agaric
and roamed
the nightly forest..

or flew into
great red skies
howling through
storming cries
screaming to fell
or styled vertical
with  two
black tusks
glinting
to caste hex
upon foe
and scatter the dead
to  perform abomination
with here little cat
perched behind
skull and moon
bat and croon
o the wind wild
o ancient chile
evil prays so
the great eye
the **** crow
the spite
and soon
o baal
sired the morn..

i


the neighbours like to shout
while the sun  come´ s out
lily is off her pretty head
to the sky dangles thread

soft she spake no doubt
how did this come about
lifted shyly off her bed
and to an alien wed

(they resembled trout
that fetching pout..)
so i was duly bled
and impregnated

soon a mewling brat
star blown and stout
multi eye and headed
plasma fed..

saviour of the planet..!
born to poet..
born to lead
man is saved..!

ii

well the world is in a pretty
pickle
if waiting  for her alien love
chile
the sun has gone in
awhile
the sunday sea continues
a smile
hovers upon her red
lip..

iii


lily a dream
cast her leaden
glance sky
wards..

lily takes from
her sleeve
her treasured
cards..

a **** on her
******
and she´ s set
on ward..!

the future
laid bare
a seer
a bird

a bard
her face
drops
bad..?
bad..

these strange
recollections
inducing
sad

reflections
caste one forth
to endless
circle-
mad..

nothing about
strange
that
but this
my god
free heart..

and the majestic
lady..
buttercups
to
her eyes
what is it..

nothing good
a wild wood
any black
blood
now this card
is usually benign

the goblets of
wine not poison
but swamp
and sunk
and choked

seems clear
not here
a hovel
and a grey
evoked

still trees and
stiller eye
there is dark
that walk
abroad

behind and
away soon
cries like
a unique
word

and yes
black coagulation
while meek
and there
struggle losing
purr

if we knew
the end
or even
this card
and this one
so little
cur
normally
a staunch
friend

souls want..!
you will get
what you deserve
this skull says
crafty devilry..!

another cooling goblet..
lily..a strong pull..
upon
the
pipe
of
love..

then i thought
what about malebranche?
a wooden leg
and god

then i did the washing up
and felt better
wrote some more nonsense
******?

iii

then with a bit of old
rope i tied the afore
mentioned in the middle
and made a divide
between the cab
and the back..

fastening it to the
crescent with some tacks..
it smelled of paint for years..
especially in the cold..
a supply of chopped wood
sat on the passenger seat..

i released the knot and it
fanned like a dream of new orleans..
i read and resisted madness
in the spring the tulips won..

in the evening i got ******
with the paper girl..
listened to radio four..
and sat by the canal
hey claudia..!
she told her parents  over
dinner..

the other day
a woman came up
to me
and squeezed my
buttocks-sorry
in the super-
market-she is very
attractive and i
did nt object and
thought no more
about it-
(we poets are a
breed apart-)
then, the next day
upon my descent
into *****, voices
rose from the ether
purporting to be
justice, asking if pro-
ceedings should com
mence..strange eh?

the peaceful revolution begins with ones-self
so they say
what do you think that means lily..
well, maybe,since most revolutions are
betrayed-
be true to oneself..

like when you do something with pride and love
cooking or sitting on the bus..
and then things for us
will go dot to dot
like a tiny wove

in a great cosmic carpet
that is our collective conscience..
gosh, it´s hot
is there ice..

i)

the pied piper
of tower hamelin
once not

so long ago
on a mountain
by a plain

to a river
was a small
village

in which
there general
contentment

reigned
or feigned
irrelevant

invaded-
so many
mad hat

bored
and alone
surrounded

by haunted
pasts
out of

sepulchre
and ran
over

open gobbed
denizens
caved

past the
crucified
the indifferent

say what?!
over the babes
in their prams

enjoying
the early sun
past the cats

wondering
near on
the panicked

matron
whos eyes
are wild

by the idle
inebriated
the lovers

curl up in
bats
sat

on
the grass
run together

oh beady -
by!
come rats

hordes
many many
and more!

RATS!
screams
and carry on

so..
a purpose
a wave

who knows
no-one-
one

lone
voice
whispers

what´s to be
done?
I know

cried
a good man
we will call

an emergency
meeting
of the council

for they
they
have adopted

a noticeable
propriety
air

here to stay
hey ask
the mayor!?

we shall be saved
by democracy
lord

squeak
they had stilled
and carpeted

they shone
with a single
mal

watching
and aware
silent..

ii


the poor girl´s heart was broken
so was mine
so was every ones´..

anyone marry s..
i paid and we went in
the street
we bid adieu..

he back to his leaflets
and me on to denmark
i stocked up on metaxa
only the best for her

five star- i liked
the barrel..
in copenhagen
people were friendly

her name was ingar
i remembered
her boyfriend moved out
and i moved in

he gave me a sympathetic
look
that is where i first heard
tom waits

thank you ingar
but i just could not
**** all the time
yo had the warmest smile..

even my lost heart
felt the sun
when you smiled
from your ancient

reserves
so generous
burns me still
seared me till

dying
ha
bless
you..

and nature and love....

she stretches long
a china dove
fragile songs

the one
the witch..
the one stood
behind
at the pit..

the burning voices..
i have never heard
such voices since..
some times i was afraid..

it was beautiful sound
held me spellbound
i ****
i freaked...

but looked on and
wondered
i thought what it
i would take a false
movement

i could tell the sexes
the women really
sounded
angelic
i stood and stared..

if my wellington became
stuck
and nearley
falling over..

they grew louder..
because as a child
nature is begnine..
i thought about this..
and stared...

there were quivering colours
years of lsd..later..
but i was 8
8 and ****
there was the wildest

crow like saint beelzibub..
stood behind
in that quiet quarry
lily..
after was seemed a long

time..he looked deep
in me..
this was my first
apithany..
and then he flew away..

his total me..i have never
seen like him again..
i was living..
he put something

where was only empty
he had crazy energy
but the voices..went..
slowly...
i was quite happy

and sad when they
went..but he placed
in me something i
could not place..laugh!

but he said too
you will never
tie my shoe.
i kind of agree that..

but..you might be proud
you might understand..
i went back and there were
two big police men

standing outside..the pit
was now blocked..
a narrow way
with chipboard and barbed wire..

and here began my love of the abstract..
now i stared at that instead..
and wondered
something occured
i did wonder how could such

a dangerous place..
no bird songs
the water sky face
madness wrong
evils birth..

be
so
far
from
worth..

the bad spirit lurked
or was it fact good
the voices called
if maybe should
death is love..

come on child..
the women sang
of love
and the more
i thought..

they must be beautiful!
the more beautiful
they sounded..
and a great ******..
joyful comunion..

it was wild..
i went back sometimes
the quiet
got in..

no voices..
and then
the thing
i wonder
what
happened..

there are so many
versions of reality!
but not to worry-

you know your´n
i know mine
fine-

how´s the weather?
hither and thither o
long the tether..!

there are two things i must buy-
and they jostle and vie-
one is of necessity
and practicality
that bores
and rankles and nags-
the other is of pleasure
that makes me sigh in
rag-
(for the adoration of
everything!)
one of the finger
one for the toe
one for the birds
one in the soul
one for the future-
a gentle zephyr
that blows
perfumed of
sweetness and love
the other-
a social must
for arrant dust
and comfort
supposedly
but hurt
and tedious in
string
that divide my
heart
one i could
be without
and one i would
die-
wither away
in a myriad
silence
one in black
and white
the other in
an abbot and
costello of colour
one some dreadful
paw
the other such
founding..

two i must buy
two
2
..
.

i

there does seem to be a lot of nosey parkers
things can rapidly become darker
a momentum of their own
soon,again,be traipsing across broad

fields of fresh bone..intellectuals are
usually the first to go the written word
suspect decadent art the smooth hand
and on till we are all looking over our

collective shoulder..work worshipped
lord what we believe in the name of
collective security and a bigger better
future..!?

ii

the goldfish in our park pond however
seem very happy together
they patiently wait their turn
and take a small bite as required..

they know they are many small smaller
all the various colours and the big ones
but there is the sun and there is suffice
they will circle love and say ola..

*
inspired by executing society

there is a marble
of yellow and
translucent
aspect and

as far a call
of blow
and transcendent
let

the great croaking
go-let the chalk
circle bleed-
the spin back!

then we shall sow
all the corners
and plain
gathered in
our

weeping pockets
until then, the
bell rung
and in a neat
line..

i)

there is a noise like
something expiring
repeating

when the brain goes
in anti-silence
ee by gum!

and you go-
blimey!
where did that

come from?!
from your pod
like a god!

a sip of cherry
but my!
it´s good to be..

ii

i would take lsd
and go to the bar
(in the interests

of science)
on my space ship
through forests

closing eyed
to the colors
the canals of

love..
could be dangerous
what it is

to come from mars
i ended up or down
with the angels

and the sun would
rise
in no time at all

cold beer
clear air
nice..

i

there is still a bottle
of cola
in the freezer..

ii

as i have grown older
i have loved more
which must denote
success
although i read in
luke rhinehart´ s the
dice man that this
might indicate
regression..
for those unaware
of this classic
a bored psychiatrist
throws a die and each
number has a different
directive..
he is a ******
he is christ
he suggests
that the idea of self
based on consistancy
a fallacy..happiness
is a fundamental
of change..

iii

if one is a tortoise
reluctant to emerge
one´ s bleary eyes
from one´ s shell
a world spent within..
always asking why..
worrying about what´ s
been..or what´ s to come..
a crepuscular hell..!
there is no i
only a difference..
so flap one´ s little
flippers and make
a change..!!

i

there seems a surfeit of little brown butterflies
as there is at this same time every year..
two encircled each other in great spirales
whether it was love or war remained unclear..
one sat as motionless as some green prehistoric
flesh
free of tentacle amid still to rest..

ii

given the approach of freedom said
how long do we then hesitate..
perched on god´ s open hand and
ruminate in the gentle breeze..
oh,so long captive but free
crashing at the lost and unseen
fly away into a greater freedom..

the space cake
are various planet
doom

a beach *** make
a bon vive..exclamation
lily looms

bang lassie milk shake
long
sun down..pankakes..

kerela grass
in her eyes
brine..

lick the salt
from her skin
her succulent

sun kissed
covering
big nosed

french woman
i  smell her skin
and the cops arrive

we managed to
get dressed
hide our hash

they were good
averted their eyes
she was so composed

i was in a disgusting
state
needless to say

a combination of
fenni
and great nepalese..

and white sand
and palm
and sweet moon

when i was young
i said my father
is with the embassy


they went away
we fell down
and ******

it was better
that time
don´t know why..

the tyranny of a blank
domino
same to go
same for all..

the tyranny of a blank
domino
my love has gone
or the sun
so..

the way you walk is the way i walk-
numinous like insect talk..
the way you grip your fork
is the gods at work..

the way you read a book
makes me look and look..
you say the time it took
might as well -

the time you take to
complete a simple task
is a sojourn in hell
the way you sing

your hair is different
so is your skin
fresh like dawn
old as the hills..

no end
all to begin
each day
a new one..

i)

the wildflower (symbol
of pretty-power)
a second,a minute,an
hour-

bee´s love there
my eyes stare
red,purple and
yellow

so fair!
gone such care
that may blight my
heart-
the very air

colour!
so window
love now
my torturing

brow..
start and go
say howdy
do..

ii)

colour therapy!

iii)

the wild flowers
below my window
gods tears or
d'or

for you and me
to assist our trip to
reality-
sobriety!

iv

it was easy
for down hyacinth laan
when c. made me
crazy

and walking on sunshine
sang in the factory
a solitary
hand

waved from, across
the high way,
brushing away
his tears

as i brushed mine
what remained of my mind
so long ago
say the wildflowers below


my window..
beloved
waving
hey s.!

iii)

we got lost
in wind
and the past

hopeless
i despaired
only once
but sought therapy
in colour..

iv)

on hyacintha laan
canals and order
logically
and free

a little lsd
a precarious balance..
a wild flower
bridge over the

san luis rey..
my budgies
my cats
my hat

v

time
a last taste
of wine

vi


i had a washburn
nice old thing
golden brown
sing

sweet like honey
i called her
n.
in

fine
and dream
such beauty
never seen

the wild flowers below my window
think i am one of them
in this they are not completely wrong-
i too look to the sun

and they don´t know the words..
i wave in the spring breeze so
they are purple and yellow
sometimes hopeful trumpets..

and sometimes we curl within
and think
dream of bees
recall past lovers..