SELECTION OF SOME OF MY POETRY:
on the imagination
It was there to be seen
Whose delectable nothingness
Pierced the night like a silent scream of a long-forgotten banshee
Who had forgotten – if memory there ever was
That no-one was about to die –
Though it may have felt like it
So why was it there? Just for the ride
Which it couldn’t take in any case
The wheel had not yet been invented
Chaos was the order of the day
An oxymoron if ever there was
And had there ever been anything
To surplant the undesired desire
It was near impossible to describe
For how can nothing be described?
For if there can be nothing
Where has the something gone?
And how can it be told what has replaced it –
Not an admission of failure or success
And so it went –on and off – for time uncountable
A day spent in a years thought of eternity
The nothing that would happen happened
So nobody noticed, save for the unsilent watcher
Whose perception of the inevitable was clouded by injustice
For without the respect of the exalted
The inner one can never get out
The underneath was different to the adventurous and youthful
Great – though horrid too!
The xenial potential of Quentin was realised
In an ecclesiastical sort of way –
When he sent for the lithograph
From Birmingham –
And offered it to the ranting narcissus
That had been openly intimidating several spiders,
Which was wrong – for they were strong
And formed the kingpin of a certain civilisation!
And could have gone mental –
In a wonderful sort of way – and covered the county
In used jodhpurs, stolen from the very corners of the world-wide web
Which they had spun only last week!
Looked upon by a rather sarcastic fern
Which was orange (with purple spots – which gave it its verbosity!)
They raided the Zoo to release the Tarantula,
(Who was very angry at having been imprisoned)
And consequent to his release, he stole the golden orb
Now there was a guy
He would buy
From the strange beggar
Or would lounge
In the sty
The pigs had gone
He asked why
No-one had told him
Days had gone by
Not everyone finds Kuala Lumpur enthralling
For one thing, there is no amphitheatre for the Impala -
Narcissus destroyed it by a thought
And a xenial metaphor
Made from the gargantuan bulk of a deciduous carrot
(Which rhymes with parrot)
Accompanied by a quickening rebuke from a strange tetrahedron
Rejected by Pythagoras -
The bath water had grown too cold
Yorrick, with his rainbow bedecked umbrella,
Has eloped with a zany lizard from the depths of wistfulness
In a jet borrowed from a rainy day
In the middle of spring
At the edge of might
Where the Ibis could no longer fly
Binary restrictions had been set in place
So they gave the Ibis a lift
Which annoyed the showers that be
Who muttered to their death
About the total injustice of it all!!!
BROAD THOUGHTS FROM A HOME
Caricature of memory long since buried
Beneath the trappings of time
Who have made good partners
Appearances have not led to deceive
Deception too has been driven down
To belief in the unbelievable
At the end of their truth there was always lies
Was it by design or default?
Who chose their path? They had not
The inclination to choose their own
Not enough free conscience for choice.
Or was conscience overcome by the nadir of their greed?
Did the compelling first class lounge screens
Really stay blank; obliterating screams of pain
And merely spew forth cries of delight
As the walking zeds took the night
Leaving no light or day
To share; there were no partners in this game
Of life; only the nano second to be adored
But what is adoration? Caprice with no eyes
But for gratification of persona
Which has no substance in reality
But their reality in insubstantial
Answers have never been discovered
Nobody has found the question
silence stares, the only token
future yet unspoken
frame exists, but has no glass
through it every doubt can pass
dreams of time to come
deep within uncertainties?
build a wall that can’t be breached
the pinnacle is never reached
spending all the light of light
in the night
not care-they just take all
as the shadows fall
arms! Take fight! And shut them out!
they just whisper, you must shout!
shout! And shout! With all your might!
have the day! Reclaim the night!
ask – should puerile denseness take –
the Lord-for Heaven’s sake???
JASONY AND THE BREADCRUMB THING
The fortune seekers hover, interfering with the peace
That is so much required in a happening we can’t police
Jason and the Argonauts abandoned the Golden Fleece
For a pocketful of breadcrumbs – they thought it was a feast
And as you wander aimlessly, for ever and a day
Don’t ask the priests for bread and jam, ‘cos none will come your way
They’d rather feed the ravens, which are circling above
They do not claim relations - they have no brotherly love
But does it really matter if they never reach their goal
As long as the Mad Hatter interferes not with their soul
And speak of souls collectively as though it were the sum
Of all the parts united, should the Messiah never come
Young Alice – still in Wonderland has poisoned all the tea
And offered it to the seven dwarves, with apples thrown in free
And Jason ‘s on the Argo, incandescent, feeling slighted
He’s fond of toffee apples, but he hasn’t been invited
So what should happen hasn’t – the quest was given up
All for the sum of nine pence and an aeroplane in a cup
So all the patient labels and the songs that came to nought
Can rediscover happiness – they know it can’t be bought
So all the elves can now depart – but what do they call home?
Insubstantial such as they are free to think and roam
The light takes over from the dark – you do not need a candle
But if the cold replaces warmth – will it be too hot to handle?
SOME VIRTUAL CRAP!
As the heart watches what the head cannot see
Stay lucky they said
But what is luck if not worth a fuck
They don’t care they just stand and stare
Who are they to disapprove
What they could move
If only they had the will, still
They stand off the land
And leave the rest at sea
Where they be
Offset by the mischance
Of the sideways glance
Where the land of their birth
Has no mirth
No one laughs anymore
They have shut the door
On compassion, it’s not the fashion
To float and pretend not to gloat
Dukes steal while they have not yet invented the wheel
People try not to rhyme
But it comes, in time!
SHREDDED ATLANTIC MANOEUVRES
The furthest star where the glow nymphs are is the order of the day
Whilst orders come in from the sneering bum to forbid the priests to play
In a deep mad plane is where the sane begin to question doubt
And a weird band of philanthropists hand fifty pound notes out
To the beggars that are from afar and have flown in in their ships
To hear unspoken words sound broken from disunited lips.
All the teacups in Albania and the saucers from Lahore
Are arguing with lepers who have made the running sore
Nobody will release them from their undulating Hell
Just because the storyteller has now refused to tell
Them why the zoo is closing and the Air Force drops green bombs
Upon the livid mountain trying to reduce it all to crumbs
But the bread is baked too quickly and the clocks are running fast
While the princes in the tower cry” Don’t heed it, it won’t last!”
But little do they know of all the snow that’s yet to come
To cover every rich man and to cover every bum
But what should be a new cloud then turns out to be a moon
And all because the winter went too fast and came too soon
Where will they find a reason? Not beneath a Christmas Tree
Nor with that scoundrel Horner with his past- the- sell- date pie
For he’s scorning blessed devils and still mocking all the days
With their many different faces and their isolated names
Like ivory and juniper and flowers with no petal
Which refuses to believe the elephant could be cast in metal
But the sinners and the winners come from nowhere to compete
With undivided atlases with hands but with no feet
To the detriment of order chaos reigned and won the day
Leaving those across the border to confine themselves to play
And the one who saw through the still-closed door all that the world could steal
Left behind his head and swam instead to a place where he could feel
in the Earth, deep in the soil
now life’s new toil;
of ball, then kick of gun –
life’s quarter-first was done
of wrath then song of calling,
bells toll for the fallen;
hands that push-the hearts that bled-
turned to hate, green turned to red;
hands that push, the hearts that reach
words that learn, the books that teach;
mother’s grief-a stranger’s sigh –
will know whereat you lie?
And-‘ere this final act of War
Did you find out the final score?
Reaching for the Orb
The Arbiter of Denbigh has reached for the Golden Orb
The madness of investiture he's hoping to absorb
And in the field the egg is laid - the vulture has no nest
Because it has been stolen by the blind ventriloquist
In Washington, the jereboam King says he’s not Lear-
It’s Tyne and Wear, not U.S.A. – we need it over here!
Whilst the Lilliputian barber will not make a wig; instead
He talks of stuff to Yorrick – who says he’s not lost his head.
Together they will rid the World of quintessential tar
Which they’ll give to Nebuchadnezar hiding underneath his car
With the xenial robust statue who can’t move – but he can speak
And though he won the opening game he’ll lose on Tuesday week!
Torches light the way along the avenue of tramps
Who lick the boots of gondoliers then lick three - halfpenny stamps
Too late do they discover that the torches have gone out
And make a din that wakes the sleepers on the roundabout.
And, trying to escape from it, one hundred will be killed
By blatant anonymity that leaves their blood unspilled –
But this does not prevent expanding hues of black and red
Though still untouched they join the ranks that contain the waking dead.
So silent on their shelves lie all the jars of pending gloom
Because they ‘re unaware they're slipping through the edge of doom,
Unheeded by the reckless and the feckless with no name
Who suddenly forget their flowers and then from whence they came.
And of the death of dragons will the monolith take heed
Though fixed in space and time, all that he cares about is speed
And dressed in blue, Death will go through; the World has lost its black-
All stolen by a Cyclops who has been to hell and back.
And don’t upset the starter or he’ll never let you end
And though you are as his enemy he’ll tell you he’s your friend
And let you loose to kill the Lord, his dog, his son, his daughter
And make you turn the blood of men and turn it into water.
And should you see a China man with a tray of old glass eyes
Please do not take one from him – he’ll think he’s won a prize,
And when at last the dye is cast all people will roam free
‘Cos they don’t know they're caught, my friend, just like you and me!
A BIG QUESTION?
Can you ever be so clever
As to think in terms of nought
Is your mind then
Not so kind when
You sell back all that you have bought?
Could the season
See no reason
To extract the core desire
Will the timeless
End up rhymeless
And no world get set on fire?
Could the useless
Be so fruitless
Even though they have the key
And the friendless
End up endless
Lost without a boat at sea?
Will the farmers
Try to harm us
When they find they have none left
Will the draymen
Leaving half the world bereft?
Do the fishes
Have their wishes
And remain within the sea
Or do matchmen
Go and catch them
And deliver for our tea?
Does the tall foot
Kick the ball foot
Which is the wrong way about
Or will William
Come and kill them
And bring back the total doubt?
And if nought else
Will the church bells
Ring out clear and ring out loud
And the Baptists
And the captives
Prepare the final shroud?
It stood in purple splendour
Like a robe of ancient Greece
Awaiting for the vendor
For to sell the Golden Fleece
But no-one came to buy it
They were feared the price too high
So none could ever try it
And it floated to the sky
Where a million vestal virgins
Took it safe within their wing
While the lowly one was urging
All the demons loud to sing
But the power of concentration
Had escaped their simple mind
Was the fate of all their kind.
So it floated, lost forever
In the firmament between
Till someone thought it clever
To portray on silver screen.
But none could understand it
And the message didn't gel
In the end t'was forced to hand it
To the messengers of Hell!
you promise nought
but offer everything, compromising all,
heavenly choirs cannot compete
with your spellbinding.
you are broken,
yet your despite demands all,
even failure is your success,
you cannot be held in any earthly place,
nor will the heavens contain your avarice,
your evil essence has no soul,
yet every soul in the Universe
assists your purpose,
and you devour the firmament from whence you came.
Laid to rest, in earth that is your
Longing for another place
But the might
That denies your race
Beneath the air that every man breathes
Friend or foe
You cannot leave
No where to go
Is no state
The river still flows forever
And fate shall bring
Else weapons sing
Along the shore For evermore
The flame that came from within
Will still burn
So was your birth a sin?
Will they ever learn?
And to give?
the navy searched for the detestable Jay,
who’d stolen the world’s last piece of litmus paper,
his owner, the Kurd,
was questioned at length as to his whereabouts.
“He loves the marshes” was all they could get out of him.
so they drowned the Kurd in a bucket of tar,
diluted with vapid soda - water,
taken at midnight from the cellar of a run-down Inn,
and, taking his patchwork quilt as insurance,
set off for the forbidden zone.
Jayward, they encountered disciples,
canvassing the advent of the beam.
“Disgraceful!” they shouted in unison,
and threw handfuls of guineas at the bearded ones,
A xenial hot chestnut man,
with a double chin and a polo neck,
and said he’d seen the Jay only yesterday at Chernobyl,
reading the Sunday Times.
and so, fearing the Jay’s possible
and, abandoning the litmus paper to an uncertain fate,
they said a rather hypocritical prayer for the Kurd,
and queued up for fruit.
Brick in the wall
“No more!!!” said the brick in the wall,
cheap white paint, bought – or even lifted –
in yet another day – one that pit ponies never knew –
stolen from ten unasked-for years,
is given form to become the goldfish without a bowl.
Liquid white leaks through life’s black
And becomes cement that binds forever to a wall
That will crumble in a spider’s breath!!!!
a scarlet haze, a shrouded hill,
home of Kings for evermore,
time unspent, time stood still,
a grey hand opened death's black door.
the dreamers and the sleepless stare,
dirges fill the empty earth,
show faces to the faceless air,
where death is just a new rebirth.
of songs unsung, a yellow dawn
sees spirits walk, unseen by men,
echo loud in shadow's morn
to live, and die, and live again
There are lives in Jeopardy
Cried the Bishop
A celestial being will dangerously manifest
when the Villain cometh.
How then do we lubricate the cogs of
(Malachite is not easy to find any more).
anoint Him with water
(Forget the oil!)
and pray for a quick ascension?
Go back to the kitchen, in your helicopter
and liberate the pans from the shadows
Do not deny the undercurrent of
an enormous donation given for ceasing to chew gum.
Ignore naive orders given inadvisably
for they quip not with passion,
preferring the zygal approach
and screaming from the xebec
as though in control of the world's largest yacht.
Feel free to ruffle - the world will be a
Black Fishnet Tights
did he ever wear them?
it was always talked about-
whispers in the shadows and
oration in speakers corner
but no-one really knew.
red lipstick was needed to complete,
with matching heels
borrowed from eternity -
what goes around comes around -
eventually or sooner
still no-one knew
and hundreds who'd denied
accepted in the end
along with the one
BLUE CHINA TEACUP
You can buy a blue china tea - cup,
too, to drink a ruby wine
While the paper’s peeling from on the ceiling and the dog’s singing out of time
Then you’ll need to pick a ticket, quick, to the where no-one can tell
‘Cos Andy needs to barter his beads to get on the road to hell
The clowns don’t smile, they’ve run their mile, and have sailed on up the creek
With a German fellow in canoes of yellow they made on Tuesday week
And the firemen burn and the fairies
learn new languages and read
Of the disenchanted debutante hooked on Harvey Nicks and speed
The eagles beak is torn and weak by the arrow shot from the gun
So he finds in Devon some ivory heaven to set his sons upon
While the restful wake in need of a steak and the restless seek relief
From the ones who come to take in the Sun in religious disbelief
And past the tall stone on the wall,
the sea is left behind
A statement of indifference, leant, where once the men were kind
Giraffes drink gin and the lions rush in to take over at the zoo
‘Cos the ones who sought to destroy the fort have taken poison too
Politicians hide with the truth denied and play hide and seek with our souls
So the stoic fighters and heroic writers are left to fill the holes
Spades and buckets are there but the beach is
bare and the children all have gone
To Russian roulette and the goal that’s been set to build their lives upon
But the tiger rugs and the Amazon bugs can never hope to fill
What fate had set after time so yet they take another pill
Do the Presidents and the residents not look up from their feast
And find not proud what was said out loud by the operatic priest?
When finally we find the decree is it nought
And on the long journey to eternity will the mercenaries shoot?
From the earth so low, where shall we next go for the searching of our time
And will the boat ever get to float on the sea of unbidden rhyme?
And as the big red nose comes to a close should we not be aiming higher?
The men don’t send to unchosen end, we don’t want their world on fire
BLUE SO BLUE
Blue so blue it can’t be true
Is this pretence a defence
Avoiding contact with the actual fact
For a moment whole never baring your soul
So individuality is your reality
You intrude and the truth is spewed
The lie covers the dark light in your eye
Open the door! Go out! Admit it! Let it out!
Confide! Don’t hide! Let your heart speak what your soul’s denied!
Shall we ever find what is in your mind?
If we give a token, will you let it open?
The world needs to see what you truly be
Since you can’t be bought, freely give your thought
Don’t believe you haven’t any, your thoughts are worth much more than a penny!
CHOICE IN AN OPAQUE WORLD.
Is that clouds I see rolling by
in your eye
where before was a clear sky?
is it a desert I now find
in a once foliant mind?
as through eons you strive.
Can you remember when you were alive?
Opaque might seem apparent
but the truth is more transparent.
Imagination to get by,
do you really believe your own lie?
GEORGE v THE NORWICH WITCH.
George gleefully held aloft the lace
(cut from Aunty Mabels best lace tablecloth)
and unwrapped the piece of magic coal.
Zenda, a gnarled old witch from Norwich,
Had tied to it an opulent pair of red underpants
Filled with pebbles as ballast,
Limped angrily, muttering, on her zimmer frame.
After tying her broomstick to a xenial dark
(who was surprised)
“My coal!” ”My coal!”
To the Impala
Who was manacled to the gate of a pea factory
“A thousand curses on him!”
“Death to the evil George!”
The Impala, whose name was Derek, never being one to play
The Devils Advocate, agreed.
So, after due consideration, Zenda
Juxtaposed a piece of frayed blue litmus paper
To a pond full of frogs,
Chanted some magic words for a while
And Lo! A pond full of Georges
And a lovely frog, called Vertigo,
Knowing not the raison d’etre of magic coal
Ate it and ended up in casualty
With severe indigestion
A TITLE LESS POEM The thunder acclaims what the daylight shames hidden underneath the hill And the Manager shouts to the books get out, you're not welcome here still And the orange peel makes the horses feel like the earth is really flat While in a swirl the tiny girl wears a superficial hat The slow progression of the long procession makes you feel like time has ceased For the one within who can't hear the din made by the purple beast But they soon grow cold with the manifold standing right upon the edge They can't push it over, the Spartan clover has been hired in to dredge They have plumbed the deep and are trying to keep the Chancellor at bay He will take the prize, though its any size, and he'll take it from your pay, And when at last, the dye is cast, the purse isn't any fuller And his wicked eyes, to your great surprise, have changed to another colour. In the silver hall will the fortunes fall, and yet join another heap Of broken men who will shout and then climb a hill that's far too steep? Does he ever think to pull from the brink, will he always be condemning Those who try so hard to lift the guard and prevent another Lemming? Innocuous concrete Llamas meet and forward to the brink But pull right out before old men shout they've not had enough to drink And wander off to see caps doffed by thoughtless peasantry And, having had enough, begin to get tough, there's no more pleasantry. Green vehicles and badger culls are on the unspoken lips Of everyone who likes the sun and laughs at all the rips, "Too much" they cry but won't deny the power of the chosen one Who creeps to find he's been left behind, so for spite takes in the sun. With nowhere to go the reapers sow the seeds of their despair And the quiet mouse has to leave his house for a castle in the air The dreams of clouds are spoken loud but the silent do not here They're huddled in the old waste bin and shivering with fear. When will they learn the world don't turn, not since the great explosion And the minds of men that remember then suffocated with corrosion They have shaved their beards, now they all look weird, and the saucepan's run away To get ready for some more days of yore and yet one more judgment day.
THE PAPER CLIP OF TIME They're trudging ever backwards through the paper clip of time While the thirsty Nomads are singing songs that they forgot to rhyme And the planets are descending to the level of the Beast All because the mad patricians forgot to invite them to the feast Jackals are prowling outside the Zoo, they've opened up the cage And caused the howling waiters to throw up their arms in rage The Mona Lisa's just been stolen by a phantom who was dressed In some ordinary clothing, just like any other guest; Five hundred Chinese bakers have sung their wares out loud They're selling pastry cases filled with happiness and cloud And if you buy just one of them, you get another for free But should you pass my way, my friend, don't offer one to me. And the plumbers can't be found - they're living in the Deep They're hiding all the worn out keys the gaoler forgot to keep. Llewellyn's horse, he gallops, to the rock above the lake To set free all the prisoners, then he tells them he's made a mistake So they run to the Casino, where they fill their eyes with gin And think about the faceless one who told them drinking was a sin And all the faceless posters and the nameless magazines Queue up to see the Matador who's throwing all his scenes The President considered him the best that a man could choose But if he's so magnificent, how come he'll always lose? Galileo - he's wondering how the world has got so small And he wants to get some dynamite, he's thinking of blowing it all The train is leaving early, 'cos the hour has come too soon And the minutes are too late to catch the rocket to the Moon All the passengers have taken up with a rather peculiar man Dressed in fifty dollar notes, which he does because he can And if I see you in the line again, just hiding at the back Please kill the old Commanche who is wearing a plastic mac The brick walls are all crumbling 'cos the cement was made of tears And all the uncollected thoughts that lay waste for many years The dwarves stole all the sunflowers to decorate their halls of gold But the Ice Queen has rejected them, "Get them out of here. They're too old!" Don't let them see you're angry! 'Cos they'll scream till they turn red! And come into your life tonight and throw you out of bed And when the dawn is mended and the night has broken out loud Don't look at the girl with the golden hair, she's dressed in a silver shroud She'll turn you into water, then laugh at you till she cries Then elope with the crippled carpenter who won the second prize And once the power is turned off from within the golden dome We can all eat out last supper and then head off for our home