March – p.a. morbid

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Tu Fu

Ice forms a beard around the shoreline of the lake
where you float, old man, carrying the snow of many winters
in your beard, body nearing the end, ready to leave.

Yet there is something so warm in the pale blue dying star
that it keeps the boat from snagging on the hoar. And the waves
rush on, singing of the Tao, nothing and nothing and nothing.

Saturday 31st of May 2014

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Linthorpe Cemetery

No climb down
From where I am now

Dark earth.

Blue sky & green leaves

Background noise of crow
Broken up by
Doves chanting

And all around me
Shadow moving.

Among the bright green
There is a darker
Wavering green

Moving with the wind.

Buildings on the edge of the Park
Reflecting pale sunshine
Move away from the eye.

10:15. Sunday 24th of April 1994

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Lost geography of our past,
the lies we sustain with our words.

Your name fading before the sound
of it has had a chance to leave my lips.

How fleeting is a smile?

Sunday 26th of august 2007

Wedding Poem

To move beyond the individual
and speak from a position
that encapsulates
the pain of a collective
I have rarely felt a part of.

Closer to fifty than forty
I suddenly find myself
in the winepress of history
my blood mingling
with that of countless souls
I will never meet.

And I must thank this
shallow and evil government
we’ve been saddled with
for waking me from my isolation
and giving me
a sense of my position in the world.

And yesterday
signing my name on a marriage
certificate alongside that
of my bride, the woman
I have loved for four
long years now.
.
Seeing my name with hers
and our occupations stated briefly:
Artist. Poet.
And knowing someone in the future
could trace us back to this time
and see how it was.

That we were joined together
not as an office worker
or self-employed man.
But as an Artist and a Poet.
That this is a small victory
no one can ever take away from us.

That as so much of the world
swings to the Right
we must remember these things.
We must believe it can change.
Or it never will.

Friday 1st of November 2013
Published in “Gorged On Light” Red Squirrel Press 2015

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That Moment

There’s always that moment
sometime after you’ve met
The One and the honey-trap
of presumed happiness
has begun to sour in the
hours of contemplation
and you’re staring at yourself
in the bathroom mirror and
its suddenly too late to walk
away from your feelings,
and you ask yourself is it worth it?

Friday 27th of February 2015

Liminal

There’s crawl-space between sleep and dream
where the interference from other realities
bypasses the filter of the conscious mind.

Thursday 19th of March 2015

 

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Contemporary Poetry

Too many accountants
sitting in too many offices
tallying the words written
and requisite images used.
Their poems, while well crafted,
are essentially empty of real feeling.

Tuesday 1st of September 2015

 

 
Goodbye my friend, my ally,
my bitterest of bitter enemies.

We’ve reached the final parting of the ways now
on a cold, wet April day.

I’d like to thank you for all you’ve done,
but I’m moving away from you while I still have something.

The road ahead is dark, but I’m going blind using you to see.

Monday 30th of April 2012
First publish in Dark Matter I, The Black Light Engine Room Press 2013