a lyrical poem about King Midas, and how everything he touched turned to Gold and how he learned not to be greedy.

This is the tale of an ancient king
Who loved all thing that pleasure brings
Who as a babe at sleep in bed
A trail of ants marched to his lips and fed
The young prince as he lay asleep
With the choicest grains of wheat


Midas grew and gathered wealth
With which he might enjoy himself
But more than wealth, his fingers were green
To he loved to prune and **** and clean
His garden, every sort of rose
He planted there and watched them grow


One day the old satyr Silenus
The teacher and friend of young Dionysus
Had straggled, drunken, from the crowd
And staggering lost and singing aloud
Then he sleepy off the wine in Midas’ Garden
(he better pray that Midas gives him Pardon)


Silenus woke and by guard was brought
Before Midas in the palace court
What brings you here, I would like to know
‘Did you harm any of my roses.?’
You didn’t !?
Silenus. Take your pleasure
And dine and drink to double measure


So Silenus,the old fun loving Satyr
Grew steadily more drunk and fatter
All merrily the old soul chaffed
King Midas who with him laughed
And when both had ate and drank their sate
Silenus did this tale relate

And he told a story to the king
Of lands where he’d been wandering
(perhaps yarns spun from his dreams)
of lands beyond the oceans stream
peopled by folk of long life and health
with very vast amounts of wealth

Now Midas listened good and well
To all silenus had to tell
And wehen the story
Came to end
He said please do point the way my friend
For though Midas had more wealth than he would ever
Need
He was overcome by greed


So he sent ships and many men
To sail the hyperborean
With eager brave intent to find
A land that existed only in Silenus’ mind
And since no such place was found by Midas’ men
They turned the fleet
And sailed home again



Silenus loved to loaf around
All day about the palace grounds
He grew indolent and quite lazy
And ate and drank all he could see
He thought” This is the life,
Good stuff !
But by now the king had had enough


By now the lord Dionysus
Was much concerned for his lost friend Silenus
Thjough not far need he search or roam
For Midas sent the old man home
And most pleased was the young god-boy
For Silenus was his favourite friend and joy



SoDionysus sent his gratitude to the king
Does Lord Midas require anything
For the Lord Dionysus will grant
Anything the king may want
And so the messenger was told
May all that Midas touch be turned to gold


And all that Midas touched upon
Turned to gold and brightly shone
Midas’table and his throne
And all the contents of his home
And soon he had turned everyone
To gold
Even his wife and sons


All this wealth it brought no good
For Midas could not drink nor eat his food
Not a morsel could be ate
But all turned to gold upon his plate
Golden fruits and golden meat
Golden wine and golden wheat


And so the days they did pass by
And a very hungered king did cry
That he did not want
No he could not stand
His golden stores of treasure grand
for he was hungry,thirsty, weak and dry
And not a morsel could that treasure buy


The poor king Midas he did sigh
If he did not eat he soon would die
Alone he blubberd in despair
He cursed himself and tore his hair
He could not stand it any more
So he crawled half dead to Dionysus door


So thirsty, famished, very thin
Midas begged Dionysus to release him
From the blessing that had become his curse
For what fate could be any worse
Midas begged, he cried implored
That life be restored
As it were before


The god he drank
Deeply perusing
He found the matter quire amusing
But although he laughed at Midas suffering
He had some compassion for the king
He said “ I hope you have learned your lesson well
Midas listened to what he had to tell


At the source of the river Pactolus
Near the mount of Tmolus
Ther you may drink and wash yourself
And be restored to natural health
And all your golden treasures stored
Shall all become as they were before


So Midas journeyed west to seek
The water spring near the mountains peak
His thirst was as a burning flame
But travelling onward soon he came
Upon the mountain
When he saw it’s water
He broke down and cried with tears and laughter


They asy that Midas was so relieved
That never again did he ever greed
He learned that his greatest treasure was his life
His health, his sons and wife

The sands of the river’Pactolus” some say
Are golden to this very day

Once I went upon a time
On tender foot down a far fled lane
A tangled haunt of yesterdays astray

Long was my hunt for a fondness or
A certain door.a value or an anchor
For a ship to sail me to myself

To the awesome abyss of the self
I fell,my moods of poison pulled
I felt the falling stars they screamed

How then I howled in the nihilate night
Too sullied to soothe my lonesome ghost
My bitten bones for hollow time

My heart a blackhole house of cards
Slipped sigh of shames, a hungered hades
A burnt out history bile and ***** had fumed

But I was too young to be that old
I must find my joy ,with fondness fly
Seek the rainbow honour life

I had been blind to the haven of hearts
On the tonguetips of touch my blessings stood
And much more than warm with will and giving

Stirred the memory of his music in me
Forgiveness cried his humble name
Peace trembled trough me stars sang life

Love shone through the ice of my armourshell
New birth for my blunt and brittle box
That breathed in a dreamless ditch of ‘ then’

And then that cherub child that longed
Loomed large so large in the life of me
Did make me doubt the shackle and the stab

Though thorny chain of void has led me here
A sprig of springtime mine
Has bathed my heart in his balmy sea

Through waves of golden nectar now
I hum with the hymns of his creativity
He sings oh poet be like a child

Be meek and kind and come to me

The bus driver is only doing his job-



he says i am out of my zone



come on mate- take a look at the rain-



i just want to get home



never mind- its not too far to walk



as this sudden shower comes steaming down



London Bus lookin all shiny red new in the rain.



so i take cover and hudde on the pavement



and write this poem- as rain spilling over the cracked asphalt



,washing over me toes, into paper wrapper river in the gutter-



search and return to the gushing thames



in drab doorway i see pregnant mother



with dripped make-up and cigarette-



a bloke runs past into the Tote-



theres a stench of Old Holborn and alcohol



The cool dread hipster blackman soundshop-



pumpin out da reggae sound all round



an chillin there inside snug



an outside da rain drippin down.



headless wooden mannequins in windows



indifferent and dead to the scene



model outdated displays



of yesteryears east end Fashion



The screech -grind -halt-



of braking trucks and cars



taxis and buses



and halt heave hum, go off and on



phrases like jazz



emitted from the traffic hissing



on the wet steam road



passing the plain low gates



and walls of modest eastend brick



Little pockets of Istanbul-



vending exotic skewered tastes



empty cardboard boxes piled high on the pavement-



sickly sweet old vegetable odours



curiously shaped paprikas- purple sweet potatoes



- halved pumpkins, ginger aponkenam, breadfruit,



Karla, Kassava and Jamaican mangoes



Ol' Carribean Mama she price the purple p'taters



an mumble she grumble onward, homeward



past the asian butcher selling cows feet



fifty nine pence for two



sad looking cadavers of chickens



comically -hung by their feet



boney alien headless n sad



and blood spurted and smeared



and dried on a cardboard box-



so rich an odour of spice and death-



what words to use



yams and hams and potted jams



shelves stacked with imported cans



grinding horror of the butchers blade



splintered marrow bone in broken bleeding box.



brown Black plantain bananas-



fat black boy in trainers and baseball cap-



kicks a discarded apple about in a puddle-



Illegible torn bills and posters on posts



walls and naked wooden doors



of cracked paint peeling in the rain



Unnumbered identities of unknown ethnic origins



scattered uprooted far travelled communities



stirred in the stew of this eclectic london Crucible



shuffling by under unhappy umbrellas-



an unenthused housewife in tracksuit pushing



twins to the child support centre-



wishin she'd married a bloke with money



north africans in bright kaftans



saunter surreally in the full cool, attitude of summer



somehow the Tottenham and Celtic suporters



seem more misplaced in this scene-



people with gaunt girocheque expressions



huddled in Pub over pints



awaiting the Worlds End



To my left number plates while you wait



keys cut school of motoring special rates



then a right into finsbury station out f te rain



and the scene fades.

Written during cold lonely Night in Hammersmith, London about 1988



In the shadows under streetlights


I hear footsteps behind me


I turn into the cold stone night


Who follows me?


The hovering moon glows dimly


And the world is the way I found it



Phantoms crawl the asphalt


This nagging night it hounds me


Who am I


What sort poems should I write


The canoe moon sails behind me


And the world is just the way it is


I want to see the stars


This clouded evening folds me


streets grin about me empty


The world is the way I found it



Here is my house


Key in the lock


I open the door


The clock ticks in the hall


Everything is the way it is


Where it fell


The way I left it



Dripping tap


Purring cat


Kitchen night


On my lap


I stroke and pat


The cat


tonight