Not For The First Time

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Between sharp-sting showers

We all stare intently into

The February-end fire heart

Hoping to glimpse a little of the sun.

In that Damascus road

Moment of realisation Continue reading

The Same Old Morphine Drum.

Blood and blind faith

Were never going to be enough

On the long, harsh, decision-deferment slog;

We must have known it all along,

Carrying this indigestible truth

Silently inside every one of our

Bones, lights and souls as we

Hoped and cast charms to close out the world

With hushed fires and rough, loud whiskies.

But,  oh my, too, too soon

It’s tap – tap …

And, even at this remove,

We shake and shiver

While toad-skinned smoke

Writes its glib falsehoods.

Desperation is playing

The same old, shame-old

Morphine drum that beats no retreat

Then repeat, repeat, repeats and echoes

Around history’s full compass.

Behind dirty lilac curtains

Of spinning, cowardly clouds,

Even the sun weeps.

Truth will be brought to the table,

Perhaps,  another, future-distant dawn.

 

24/8/2013

A Hundred Ways, and More …

There’s a finely judged, difficult juggling balance –

Dreadful tension,

Joyful desperation,

Taste of tears and tide

Expectation’s edge of seat shivers –

In anticipation:

A thing of great value may be

Born of today and the past.

The past when I was a

Hundred ways, and more, different.

The place from which we ran together

Along the cowslip, wine and danger routes:

Each other’s silver-strand chains,

Constant, sometimes distant

Rock-mirror faces … then …

Now what?!

Well I’ll be damned …

The lightning strikes,

Long-waiting’s suddenly over;

Lights come on,

The hammer goes down and

Sniper rumour,  tiptoe doubt and

Evil jester’s sleight of hand

Are only  for the foolish sages

And the hesitant apes.

9/5/2013

Waiting for the World

Waiting for the bell –
The inevitable bell –
To ring.
Not the bell that starts the
“Seconds out!” action,
The bell
To tell me
I can’t make money.

Waiting for the call
To come,
The call that means
I am not wanted.
Waiting for the message,
The subtle-strong words
Being formed
That start, surely-softly,
To strangle my
Innocent soul.

Waiting for the day to dawn,
The day when I am worth
Less than half of nothing…

Waiting for the world
To wake;
The world that,
Simply, cannot
See me.

223/1/2013

It’s Not You.

You’re desperate: for freedom,

Space, something different?

Don’t whisper your secrets

Your desires to the thunder;

Thunder don’t listen.

It’s not you,

It’s not what you wish for –

It’s the thunder:

Thunder don’t do the

Listening thing.

 

Don’t look for help,

Don’t seek advice, alliance, empathy

In hope, in desperation;

Don’t pray to the lightning –

It’s not you,

In your time of need –

It’s the lightning:

Lightning don’t do reflection.

Lighting never does anything –

Twice!

 

4/5/2012