Friday, 29 June 2012
When he smelt the fresher sweat,
tasted little tangs of ‘fear’,
saw the faces turn towards
ancient feel of cap-on-head
that’s when he heard the challenge come!
When he faced the faceless drop,
smelt the bitter coffee top,
heard the cuckoo new in Spring,
saw a billboard’s naked charm
fully, this time, empty now:
dilating lungs and lugholes, eyes;
he named a deeper prayer inside (not history);
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
I reckon getting hammered is the right
idea for every other Friday night.
Now I’m pissed and sitting in the rain,
longing for an orange sun again.
And, look, I see a pattern in the stars,
turning and spinning on some axis there.
Ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar-ar -- Aaaarrrgggggggghhhvv!Better! There we are, a truth, my love.
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
It would be great to own a field,
not sell it for the dosh:
with a splashy, babbling stream,
a hawthorn bush,
a 5-bar gate
lie down til late,
reflect on fate;
which does explain
why a windows laptop
lights a field inside
its tiny oblong frame
and plays a song –
da da dar dar dum – worldwide.