GHOST STORY
a perfect storm
winds from the East
winds from the South
converge
tearing through the streets
making a nonsense of your hopes
of a full
Mediterranean side-
walk café life
sipping a latte, sitting in the Sun
reading Proust or Sartre
nothing in those books
talk about
how the ghosts, the sins,
have caught
up
with you
(at least none
that you do read
none that you can see)
FORWARD
push
the clocks forwards
ten thousand years
see
what happens
if nothing, the world is unchanged
the feared nuclear
apocalypse
never happened
or it did
and only
set us back
ten thousand years
LINES
making love
to you
I forget
my lines
feel forced
to ad lib
ex-
temporize
make it
up as along this sweet
hot wet
tightly twist-
ing road
we go
garbling all
the poetry
OF LIFE
Not impressed
by my own
sexual selfishness
how ai throw myself into this
finding redemption
in your ypung body
clinging to that ecstasy
forever
pleaaure
dew
of life.
PLAN
I storm:
hit the alarm!
much turbulence
no free gliding, plain sailing
listen
to the wind becoming
more sharply focused
everything rocking soon:
one humongous concert
hell’s angels
making sure
everything
strictly ordered: the madness
the chaos
all going to plan
NEW YEAR
that tree
in the garden
was full of bees
feared their stings
more than anything
house full of honey
got so stuck
in honey throughout my life
for some reason
am not good as viscous, do not
do viscous
hope one day though
that will change
though,
to be frank
running out of days
.
last night I returned from
a place of much that is unconditional
snatched at the curtain
as night fell
caught a shooting star
seemed like a moment of
divine needle work
last stitch to connect, maybe
whole new thread
so close
to new year
HYMN
Move on
move on
nothing here
cruel and unusual
play
with your mantra
sing your beads
tanks and missiles
on the Holy Mountain
so much
sand for your mandsla
here where
deepest dug in.
AND THEN
and then
there waa
no choice
no option
fate had decided
desire complied
we fell into it
this thing pleasure
embraced it
until we
got saturated
knew yout
until i could know you
no more deeply
but here
there is always more
aleays more deeply
oceans of detail
to touch, taste, feel
savour until the Sun
ghe Moon, the day; the dawn,
time itself dissolve
everything but you
just disappears
and then
THERE BE
there be satirists in the land
rare, ’tis true,
but nore plentiful than dragons
and Oh so easy
to avoid them!
not an issue
to learn to steer clear
of their usual habitats
can dodge
them readily
neither lithe, nor elusive, like
Australian brown or
African black mamba
and nowhere near
as outright venomous
step over them freely
my brothers, my sisters
though they
hiss and may strike
nothing to fear here at all
CHUTE
if we were
aligned skew
during manufacture
and so conjure up
a monstrously concocted version
of original divine image
what hope is there
for us to unentangle
the moment of beauty
is exalted
but passing
no sooner gone than
plunged headlong again
into
theme of survival
Ah, the cycle:
flameout,
parachute
rip cord
again failing
nothing to steer you clear
you clear of those onrushing rocks
about
to hit you at terminal velocity
all I can do
for you: this
song of regret
poems 2 die for