What is within?
Where In the base nature of man
is that tiny disc of self and
of all its elements of all thought?
Standing by in this hypnotic
State of nature. Unable to act;
coyness, Shyness leads us nowhere.
Where do they come? These thoughts.
In these vessels of the mind.
The cells lead us along
this bridle path to extricate
Themselves. Being from this abstraction of
life
the arrow has cut the air too thin.
An angry sun thrusts down
its weapons of its life and
the reflections twirl on the surface
as darkness hides beneath.
All baseness begins. And goes on as
failing makes us stand by and hope.
the arrow has cut the air too thin.
An angry sun thrusts down
its weapons of its life and
the reflections twirl on the surface
as darkness hides beneath.
All baseness begins. And goes on as
failing makes us stand by and hope.
Demons
After a painting of the same name by
K.Mowatt
Forged in man’s minerals, the brassy orator
Laying my ghost in metal.
My half ghost in armour hold hard in deaths
corridor,
To
my man-iron sidle. Dylan Thomas
Struck Upward – forces conjoin;
disjunct
There, a kind of peep-hole scene: the
girl, as if blind
Dances against a sea in a wilderness of
darkness
Her arm Caravaggioing the
room
Loving in the air spacial
An echo
Tingling
They are drawn and repel in a pinnacle of
magnetism
Both necessary expanding each other’s
truth
Wanton necessity
Each other’s being
The time in a moment, in an instant. A seething vast epoch of a ‘now’
You cannot have her, you cannot, as she
is as the summer breeze
She’s uncapturable – your pain is in your
eye, you create from your greed
She is free and you want her to have not
be with allow her hand to
take you, if you could she would break in
your ownership of her….
Still
She dances in seasons
The word is motion indicative of what
just needs to be
…he the innocent in this symmetry. Blindly believes not.
She, vowing to the god she must worship
and adore
A notion deep inside, after all it ain’t
no sin to be glad you’re alive
2
Blown to one side by the wind
Every sensation except being alone
Drained out of your mind
Stephen Spender on Manuel
Altolaguirre
The demon is as the air to
life
The forlorn Doppelganger’s
knife
Washing and proving the
acts
Dealing and playing the facts
The point in which it’s written
Twisting on
Degas
Contorting until
The beauty unnaturally
Forged
3
How beautiful you are, my beloved
How beautiful you are!
Your eyes are doves,
Behind your veil,…
Song of Songs poem 4
A rhyme flowing as silk in the breeze
She dances against the compass
Against the rules that pre-exist
her
And have now predeceased her
Time like scent is. Unimaginable
Roaring in silent architecture
Attracting the secreted geometries of the
past
A silent love sleeps across the
horizon
From the souls desire to
evolve
Into the need of another
4
Emancipated for the moment at least from the torment of
fantasy, Gabriel Garcia Marquez
They need not that ill
wind
Beneath an iller sun
That leads to nowhere
As in this dimension
They make another
Some future dimension
Unwritten
In its being
5
Better a bitter ending than an endless
bitterness persian
proverb
The sky scarred by the electric blue
dragonflies’ wanton wake:
There the innocent Chalk hill Blue darts
here-and-there
In its own private chaotic
architecture
She breathes the silken air of
soul
Upon a canvas of
experience
She lives in night storms
torment
And in tomorrow’s
Tomorrow.
Until they begin again.
First Published in Danse Macabre
2013
Departing
Watching those hulks go
Passing along somehow
just
Blown along with all manor
Of colours shapes and
sizes
Places written across
(unlike)
Me or you – our place or our
city
Not marked on us
We were untied
How close to those
Steel breasts we are
We’re like demo graphs
Knew us too well.
Once they passed on and
over
To their new day and me to and
mine
The days departing as an
Tide we knew only tomorrow
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