The Eyes of Night.

      What colour would I choose

For the eyes of my night?

That first-time, last-time,

Never-to-be-seen-again time light?

That appears only when the mighty

Winds and powerful wings

Of vacuum-space and eternal time

Throw dust-and-crystal shards

At the limits of my knowledge; those

That are the too-near boundaries

Of my massive ignorance. Lucky to be

One of many sometime-intelligent observers

I am, nonetheless, very alone in this crowd.

Feted, reluctantly, as master of phrase and

Meaning, I am unable find the appropriate word:

My brain too flooded with majestic dark skies

That sparkle, shimmer and shake without sound.

perseids

11/8/2013

Photosource: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/in-pictures-23680382

Time, Whisky and Friends

As if overstaying

My fragile welcome

Were not enough

I had to fall

Off the wagon again;

Fall so hard I missed my

Leaving-thunder train

By a pocketful of hours.

Now I’m buying

Time, whisky and friends

In a lock-in bar, while,

Outside, in the sodium lit fog

Two hog-jockeys and

A crooked lawman

Take it out of the

Latest version of my god.

Ghost of the Big man

Blows tears through his

Angel horn, like he always did:

Truth is a pale, poor story.

21/6/2013

Human?

Human condition might have to be
That, every now and every then,
We be defined solely by our problems.
Time doesn’t heal.
The phone doesn’t ring.
The tune doesn’t cheer.
The dark that was once refreshing
Is filled only with malice barbs.
The next message can only be burden.
Stand up!
Be proud!
Hold fast!
There is a way ahead,
Though difficult to see,
Even if it goes steeply downwards
For a depressing while.

We Are …

We are the sleepers,

Found in winter-constant corners:

Three moons round

Deep in never-knowing dreams,

Those and dusty-corpse webs.

 

We are the always-buried hearts,

Recognising no Heaven:

Pulled towards our

Gravity-defined future.

 

We are the

Long-world travellers,

Settled in a motion home,

Feeding to move,

Moving to feed.

 

It’s spring where you are ?

Feel it, believe it!

Hold fast,

Hold faith:

We are

Coming.

 

23/4/2013

 

 

Ella’s Alarm!

The mantel clock ticks

And time’s candle-sands tock,

Dripping ellipses into our

Life’s-a-stage lives.

Cleanin’ lady’s got

The button-down blues,

Landlord’s fantasies

Won’t be stilled

And the ugly, pendulum bouncers

Are sighing, yearning for the

Grey pumpkin deadline.

Brings to Mind.

Age-of-coming girl on
Simple rope ‘n’ plank trapeze.
Metronome beat, measuring
Time, lust and performance;
Moving over stones:
Stones that stand for ages,
Stones that skip,
Stones that try to hide –
And the ripples they make
In still, deep waters.
It’s not always what you see,
Sometimes it’s what it
Brings to mind.

10/2/2013

At The Borders

Paused at the borders
Of a place
Named Evening:
Where day-long fog
Leaks from the spaces ‘tween
Bare-bone beeches,
Where the past and anthems
Are neither denied
Nor forgotten.

With a little luck,
Some patience and sweet time
We’ll reach Nightfall …
But let’s savour the wine,
 Music and candles first eh?

13/12/2012

Me and the Little Hand

The window I first saw as green,
Flickered, became, bright yellow
Then purple; it now shows me black –
Or – had I eyes to see it clearly –
Much worse – it might be blank.

The spirit that crosses mountains
More easily than soldiers,
That passed whispered “darlings” and
“Forevers” between us in secret
Dockside rendezvous, still
Dances in her, spills endlessly
From her in silken sheet smiles,
Trembling on the brink of more:
Adventure, climax, sin, betrayal.

It was never the window altering:
It was me: me and the little hand
Moving on.

8/12/2012

The Timefall Changes

Feeling the timefall changes

Blowing in the fresh old winds;

The insistent gravity pull and

Push of generation.

What do I want most:

Woodpecker or web?

I have fierce deep roots,

Of which – push me –

I can be aggressively proud;

And experiences have forged badges

Pinned to the fabric of my life.

But my soul has never

Blindly carried a flag.

16/11/2012