Romance

I’d take you where the sun hangs high

Where the sea birds shelter in the shade;

I’d steal you from the winter

Where the day only fades.

 

I’d give you promises I couldn’t keep

And every smile is as hollow as a jewel,

I’d let you play the master

If you’d let me play your fool.

 

I’d dance with you till the pale dawn

And tell you about our future

I’ve drawn the map, found the route

And I’ll be there with you.

 

And I’d let you stand with the stars

Leaving me on the shore;

I’d give you the chains

That don’t bind me anymore.

 

And I’d cry your tears in the morning

When I think that you’re not there;

It’s not that I want your sorrow

It’s to let you know that I care.

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Legends

I am here in the age of the last legends,

Who’s fires burned to turn the world

And now to silence fades. One more light is

Gone, a power to stir the souls of those

Trying to find their place and I lived to see her

Honoured for her triumph. She had the power

To hold high the spirit of a nation.

Biography

I want to be lazy, like an old string

On a rusted guitar or a prophet

Lounging in the Spanish sun. It would be nice

To have a clear mind, like a cat on the street –

But Coffee and inspiration makes me shake

And I can feel the weeping in my chest,

Like a Robin on the washing line.

Never mind existentialism – that doesn’t cut it,

My body is whole and wild and I imagine excess

And decadent days in which to waste away.

And then I write about them.

Fred Schneider

I let Fred Schneider into my house

And now we’re selling discount fish

At tourist prices but I suspect my house

Is haunted now and a constant fog

Drifts through it like London and the walls

Are damp and blue. We have problems with

Seagulls and men with hooks for hands in

Yellow cagoules. Jazz is banned to my chagrin.

Tai Chi is practiced by the dirty green bottles

That house our experiments. Hausu, what a film.

Summer is busy for us but the day trips to the bay

To gather more fish are always a treat.

Ragged Storm

Ragged storm! With the voice and demeanour

Of God, do you encircle me for judgement?

Are my sins a veil to lose me between worlds?

I am only one among many servants

That fell to the serpent’s way,

Outcast from the dregs of empire

That, like a plague, covers the world in a more

Vengeful darkness than thee.

 

Now I stand helpless to your claws

And the lashing rain that cleanses us

And the torn lightning that whips us.

Towards the darkling plume we sail

And I wonder if we deserve to see the day again.

Fate

My fate is to look down a dusty dirt road in the hot Texas sun with a pale cowboy hat on my head and a blue shirt torn by the rocks from the outlying badlands, all with an air of anticipation and wonder as to what my next action will be or whether or not i’ll get any dustier in this dusty desert (The desert may be a metaphor for ‘life’ but who knows!?) there’s a buzzard above scouting for his friends so i best ditch my stolen sheriffs badge and mosey on back to the old chicken shack called home.

 

what was this?

Motorway Poem

I was under no illusions as we escaped the city

Watching the night and lost in the wisps of live music.

I thought of the Jetstream of the 60’s dream

A concrete moment in 1967 that cracked by December

When flats grew cold and the hippies froze

Then the dream deferred leapt into the sordid 90’s

When cockroach parliamentarians were as drunk as Withnail

And I saw the final remnants of peace and love in

The cocaine afterglow of cool Britannia

With flags plastered on champagne skin

And close fitting ribcages. I snapped from my remembrances

And naïve theorizing as the motorway lights blinded me

And I grasped my knees in fear thinking

‘Oh god’ but father began to harmonize as I considered

The majesty and mechanics of Nick Drakes right hand

Whispering William Blake innocence in the haze of Jane in autumn.

No need for obsolete baroque impersonations

The fashions of a company bleed into the rebellion

Streaming through the veins of psychedelic teens

Who wear bellbottom jeans to compensate for lack of personality

Could I borrow something as simple as a cigarette?

A line of code or a coda in the delicate prayer of jazz?

Or can I weave words into days, hours into ribbons,

Dresses into snow. Sudden stops. Can’t see

The traffic cones five feet in front of me

Sudden burst, could cold thought

Be any cheaper in city brains?

False nihilism, dust on wooden floors

A disease tended to with ennui

And nobody stops to care.

More than Friends

We were more than just friends

We were scorpions with tails linked.

We were venom spilled and mixed.

 

Our reclusive bodies

Made reputations of our souls.

 

We mingled in the air like smoke

And stood out like blue.

We were the belladonna in the ruins,

We were the heroin in the river.

 

We lay side by side,

And locked each other in thought.

It wasn’t long

Before our passion burned

And disappeared like paper.