The way You See Them

 

Hot feet, impatient to eat the miles,

Get past – over, through, round – the

Heart attack jams on this

Stretch of cold-as-business road.

Runes, signs, lines

Whispering at me

“Blue open skies

Are nothing but lies,

Friends will make you weaker …”

But the technology that,

Yesterday, was going to be

All I’d ever need:

To get ahead,

Stay the pace

Is strangling my soul,

Selling my secrets.

Things are always

The way you see them;

Until they change …

Or you do.

All Swans …

 

There’s a fire

Somewhere near;

I cannot see it

But I smell the smoke.

Somebody’s burning

Old secrets again;

A little grey to add

To the snow.

All swans were white,

The universal truth …

Until we learned

That they weren’t.

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.

 

A Cosmos Apart

Distant strangers, a cosmos apart,

We crazily crashed, fell and coupled like

Old earth’s young gods last night.

No need for secrets, false modesty or masks.

No need for mercy: asked or given.

We felt the colours released in

The depths of our innocent souls;

Tasted sweet explorations with

Glorious, long pent-up trust and abandon.

Carried each other on and on, then further,

Testing ourselves to the glamour’s-honey limits;

Pushing and pulling one another to stand,

Quivering at the edge of the rainbow abyss.

Then, with complete faith, held

Each other, body and eyes, trembling

Before the please-don’t-stop releases came,

And we slid -eternally joined – down the

Liquid-malachite-pleasure slopes of the

Paradise-peacock’s splendid eye-to-eye tail;

Between the stars and the furious silences:

The endorphin-loaded passages that stretch themselves

Across the boundaries between

Adrenaline and exhaustion,

Need and satisfaction.

14/8/2013

Where Sails …

moon

Where sails the moon this evening?

For it must be she: patient,

One-eyed queen and governess

Of summer heavens …

That fills the woodbine bugle

With warm narcotics that

Hypnotise and bewilder

Moths and mortals.

This timekeeper and turner

Of tides and histories

Has lessons for all who know

How to give attention;

Focus on her sky screen scribbles:

Learn of circles, times and joys,

Faces that change, masks that

Mean all and nothing,

Secrets that aren’t,

Dreams that should be,

Power in doubt and doubt in power.

Concentrate, my friend, for your

Life will be the test.

 

12/7/2013

Photo: www.commons.wikimedia.org

Always Written

Long greyfeather clouds

Carrying blue-light poison

To the moon;

Memory’s desperate fox

Cannot help, doesn’t

Have the stretch or

The strategies.

 

“Far away, far away,”

The young ones hopefully chant –

Distracted by bright-fool images –

As though it could, ever, be enough.

 

But patient snow

Is too silver-slow.

Last night’s secrets are

Always written on the ground.

 

26/11/2012