Does madness heal the incurable when all else is made of quick sand?who made this saint hood of the stupid?a race is taking place with only one runner,the runner is called absurdity,what creature, what laugh among the dying invented this?I search for meaning among the hurtling hope for atomorrow ………………..
Does madness heal? Read More »
High winds, you on your bicycle looking at moody Suffolk skies, years ahead of you in the wandering youth tea cup leaves of fortune. Your Songs and poems like leaves dancing to mystical tunes, life’s tragedies hidden in the wild hopefulness of our yellow barn masquerade, so much ecstasy before us, cloud riding, sunset lovers,
The lights of Old Compton Street dazzle the girl as she window dances. spellbound men pop-eyed ogle!Jessica the relief dancer has got stuck at the Spar supermarket check-out,Alison just has to keep dancing until she is relieved by Jessica, she is bored out of her mindand stressed, she needs to get back to the kids
You came from that Nether-world of amber light that place where clowns and cuckoo’s rest half asleep waiting for the lovers that only you could carry. You were ‘Country Rose’ full of slum street blossom and Sun Street enigmas That wasted road that seemed to have no end, the summer heat of India rubber smells.
The days of country Rose Read More »
Dressed for a funeral, the blackbird glides its way in the freedom of the skyway to where no danger only clouds, hide their glory. A kingdom of escape, a fathered sky, where no car engine frightens God’s décor. Feeding against the wind is hard, and so the blackbird comes to the roadway for breadcrumbs and
On the death of a blackbird Read More »
Like a speck of sand, we live in motion and time. The requiems of youth follow us out to the estuarial lands, – and the beach path to endlessness. I am walking in a great mystery, a mystery that levels the distance between right and wrong, good and bad, haves and have nots. A man
In the London autumn rain, he walked into the flamboyant fashion shop on Carnaby street – 1964. It was a London at peace with itself, pencils of the sun warming wet clothes. A strange clock chimed in the corners of infinity, a vast array of passengers perhaps nothing more than a thought in the eternal
The Corners of infinity Read More »
(A poem inspired by Charlie Chips) LABOURER on the Suffolk fields, cycles of sunrise to sunset. Seeking out the unseen tides of the mind, lusting for The sweet sleep of the labourer. In the soul centre of the wandering fields he hears the Suffolk hymn Sang in the tonal beauty of home winds welcoming ……….
Old Suffolk Chimneys Breathing Read More »
Time, that makes these earth born dreams seem like eternities rainbow. Over the horizon, dancing platitudes and exhausted hope, words exhaled from meaningless heartbeats. “Go this way” shouts the boss-eyed Counsellor Freudian junkie with a speech impediment. “If only this fear would you leave me!” He has 100,000 thoughts in the chaos of kaleidoscope chance.
Tinsel on a Christmas tree, plastic people on a toy merry go round Stilted structures, celebrations ordered by authorities that feared freedom, and the wisdom of the hopeless labourer? I have seen the misery in those ordered to: “Stand here, Smile now, do not speak” A military society more controlled than trained soldiers! Ice minds
Does the Moon forget? Read More »