The Time to Choose

The

Time to choose,

Tiger Lily,

Is nearly here:

The sweet

Or the dark?

The demons that seemed

So glamorous earlier

Will have their pound of sin;

The words that sounded

Once delightful

Have their hooks in you.

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The Madness Rations

With all the delightfully tempting deliberation

Of the sensuous midnight dance, they

Pour their whiskey’d coffee shadows

Into the urban canyon streets.

Honest-to-God light,

As though, silently screaming,

Seeking to escape upwards.

Leaves from ground level,

Now are the panther-hours,

The time of warm-chocolate promises,

Bitter honeys with secret pillows;

The secret language of  darkened doors:

The madness-rations we take

In order to plead sanity.

 

Territory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In my small morning-walk

Part of the world

Water  puddled in

The harsh tracks of

Invaders long gone

Reaches for the winter sun

With lips of ice.

 

 

 

Overnight the frost has

Made stiff cells of the earth,

Powdered the speartips

Of grass and salted

The shoulders of broad leaves

Into a single, silently screaming scrum.

 

In another, far-removed

Ignorant-of-nature place

Politicians squabble, chatter and

Greed over territory like 

Opera villain magpies.

 

Can they be so unaware of the impact?

Why don’t they listen

To the falling?

Heed the fallen?

Is it too late?

Can we still rebuild the Dove Gate?

Use the Get out of Hell Card?

 

18/11/2012