ON THE DREAM DESERT ISLAND
on the dream
desert island we have
created
we lie half naked
eyes burning
in the dipping Sun
exploring our ideas
of life and love, poetry
philosophy
exquisite notions
touching on everything
until the physical world
with warm insistence
magnetic forces
turns our thirst
to explore
from abstract
to concrete
the here and now of
desire and
union
under this sky on
this sand beneath
these palm trees
TINCTURE
tincture of something
on my tongue
hard to place it
need to pin
it down exactly
outside the world its
raucous self, perhaps
even
more cantankerous maybe
we talk softly therefore
defining our demeanor.
quietly desperate not
to say the wrong thing
feeling our
way towards acceptance,
adjustment
we wonder if this could be
the same small bustling cafe
from all
those years ago
and if we would be doomed
or maybe fortunate enough
to enter into
the same debate
as to whether what
we are eating today
is canneloni or
lasagna
how we see now that
time before when
we almost
shared love
so close we were but
such a gap between us
in our mutual
understanding
of the codes and syntax
governing
offers and
suggestion
so much lost though
perhaps here we are again
in disagreement
could there be
any “if onlys” that we
actually do share
the ghosts of that love and
metaphysical questions
raising the hypothesis that
ghosts
could be lovers
so much here the same
so much that has changed
LOVE STORY
Not sure
what it was
if it is anything
you night call a
romance
a love
story
an orange cobra in the
short grasp
dancing for me
foot of the mountain
scales
catching the Sun
the grass grown tall now
no hope of that mixed
fear and
delight in once
more catching sight of her
turning serpent
myself
surrendering my life to her
my sweet
zero at the bone as
Ms Emily might
have
described her
whose young image it
will be
brought back from
all those years
ago
so lithe
so wise
as my eyes close
embracing darkness
with
a feeling
of love coiled up forever
full stop to everything.
LOVERS
millions
were making love
when the bomb
dropped
a fat few megatons
vaporized them instantly
moment when
dream and desire
annihilated themselves
love and death
in dark exactitude
of intensity
so mirroring each
other
as if the species
was fucked from the moment it began
but
the poem still here
jury out
clock still ticking
lifetimes of love
still to resolve
THE LINGERING
the sadness
of never knowing you
the real you
always looking
from the outside
seeing the people
you are close to
and this
I show you now
is that image of you
I hold onto, keep
in my heart
Oh if
I could just relive
that captured moment
feel once more
feel once more
those small, exquisite, endearing joys
that deep, sublime, long-
lasting,
lingering pain
CASCADE
sometime I don’t know when
feels beyond anywhere
where cosmic logic demands
we should meet again
let us
live the moment on it’s own terms
forget the past
forget all that crazy quantum stuff
about parallel universes
alternate histories
not even how it might
have been had we
got things right
where
with beautiful timing
a right word was said
the rest
thereafter just
cascade
after cascade
GUITAR
my telephone beeps
it does
not speak
it tells me
her message is here
was
holding my breath
but now
I can breathe
this is what she wrote
fingers that once
tippy-
toed now
dancing across
the keyboard
express
delivery
heart to
heart
(would those nimble
fingers were
here
plucking my strings
playing me like
a rock guitar)
EDGE
only a love descant
could be that beautiful
unless we consider
the melodies of death
whose
melancholic timbre
haunting finality
succinct
completion
all things considered
give
it the edge
SUN GIRL
what is it
about these lionesses?
this one pitching up
late trashing my party
all because
by right should
not
allow myself to
feel depressed on this day
by immortal decree can
only be pure
ray
of sunshine
Gil Scott-Heron cassette flashing past my ear
hurled
with such
aggrieved force
birthday present saying
the sender she so pissed this
not
(however revolutionary)
going to be
televised
such an apt and thoughtful
sought -out gift
thrown with much
malice or
that thing called
love
I had failed to recognize
POEM FOR HELEN NATASHA
tough love
cruel to be kind
but let mention she
who needed to win
most of all
see her favourite’s name
up in the city of lights
Achilles slain
the towers fallen
she who was raped
less than harmoniously returned
and who, being man,
being man born of woman
would be so
out of his right mind
to vote
against her
spurn that offer
she flirting with the idea
of full divine disclosure
revelation
of that so in utter excess
of mere mortal beauty
mere legendary
beauty of
a Spartan Queen
straining against the bit
holding back unless
her hero
lose his sight
die sublime
kind to
be cruel
cruel to be kind
poems 2 die for