More than the silence after a rainstorm
More than the hum of a fridge in a house
More like a quiet lawn as yet unseen by morning bathers
The breath of a mouse or the tiny fly’s wing beat
Could find it
An afterthought drubbing against a steamed up window
Could be let out to find it
It begins when a timed question reveals everything about a life
Tick. There
Or a life up until then
It is seeing from a distance,
a fire engine loose its way round a tight bend
Ladders sledging off over the moor
The cinematographer who stares into a swimming pool and sees red
Just before he goes mad
has witnessed it
There is a source somewhere inside that bubbles,
from which it escapes
Like the soft emanation of blood from a wound
Yet it’s harder, it is edged
a prism that splits light
that bends the truth
That has conversations in low voices with dark matter
I have heard it
I have seen it
And there is no doubt at all that it is red
Friday, 30 November 2007
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
A Wish Not Won
If I gaze long at the dull bricks
Maybe they too will levitate
Wall, house and all
If I let each flowers’ summer scarlet
Or summer yellow, bleed to rainbow
Yellow, blue, green and all
If I could catch each falling flake
Of snow and pass them back to heaven
In snowy fires that glow
If I could pluck each feather
From my soul and soar in flight
Soul, breath, you and all
Would you be mine and whole and done?
Or would you be yours: a wish not won?
Maybe they too will levitate
Wall, house and all
If I let each flowers’ summer scarlet
Or summer yellow, bleed to rainbow
Yellow, blue, green and all
If I could catch each falling flake
Of snow and pass them back to heaven
In snowy fires that glow
If I could pluck each feather
From my soul and soar in flight
Soul, breath, you and all
Would you be mine and whole and done?
Or would you be yours: a wish not won?
Friday, 19 October 2007
Amoricide
This is the space I wanted, then.
To open my heart and show you the ugly, crawling,
Unpigmented creatures that lurk there
Fused to the bone.
I know you puzzled your brain on the home train
With the crossword.
I wanted you to give me a clue,
But I closed my phone, my eyes glazed over,
And I guessed the space lay in the message
I would never send.
I am making my space.
Cleaving it from the clay shoulders of the awkward,
Exposed sculpture we have somehow,
Accidentally fallen together.
With every week we wodged it taller
With every stinging fight, we passed it by with knives
And features began to emerge.
Now we hack away at it
With big, blunt words
What we have so humanly, fleetingly, erratically,
And carefully, carelessly worn and warmed out of the
Empty space,
Is too big for this bold, cold boy.
But we two are slaves to our own reckless imaginations,
Too many expectations and not enough sight or sense,
To see the hazy nature of love.
Way down the list of myths,
Down where it says ‘space’,
If only I could see who held the pen,
I’d like to break his wrists.
To open my heart and show you the ugly, crawling,
Unpigmented creatures that lurk there
Fused to the bone.
I know you puzzled your brain on the home train
With the crossword.
I wanted you to give me a clue,
But I closed my phone, my eyes glazed over,
And I guessed the space lay in the message
I would never send.
I am making my space.
Cleaving it from the clay shoulders of the awkward,
Exposed sculpture we have somehow,
Accidentally fallen together.
With every week we wodged it taller
With every stinging fight, we passed it by with knives
And features began to emerge.
Now we hack away at it
With big, blunt words
What we have so humanly, fleetingly, erratically,
And carefully, carelessly worn and warmed out of the
Empty space,
Is too big for this bold, cold boy.
But we two are slaves to our own reckless imaginations,
Too many expectations and not enough sight or sense,
To see the hazy nature of love.
Way down the list of myths,
Down where it says ‘space’,
If only I could see who held the pen,
I’d like to break his wrists.
Assassination
I heard another man today
Gunned down in the Lebanon
The Killers did not disguise themselves – no masks over their faces
Would he have seen their quiet stride
In the wing mirror of his car?
Before the window was filled with
A suit jacket and teeth
I wonder how he looked to them
Focussed in their own way
He seemed to bend time and space
As if all the world had tilted downwards, sloped toward him
The children under the kitchen table after a cat
In the house across the road – blue untouched
Hazy with quiet sunspray overhead
All mute and blank as the mortar in the walls.
First he turned, open-mouthed
Shuddered, then fell.
Gunned down in the Lebanon
The Killers did not disguise themselves – no masks over their faces
Would he have seen their quiet stride
In the wing mirror of his car?
Before the window was filled with
A suit jacket and teeth
I wonder how he looked to them
Focussed in their own way
He seemed to bend time and space
As if all the world had tilted downwards, sloped toward him
The children under the kitchen table after a cat
In the house across the road – blue untouched
Hazy with quiet sunspray overhead
All mute and blank as the mortar in the walls.
First he turned, open-mouthed
Shuddered, then fell.
Love Snakes
Love snakes around the corners of my room,
Coil and writhe, flicker like second-tickers,
Stretch like smoke across smouldered carpets,
Hiss like whispering, murderous gas from canisters
When I sleep, they wriggle ‘cross my lips,
And down the creases of my back,
And with softly strident tongues,
Riddle subtle muddles in muttered tones
Delightfully, I feel their fangs in me,
Wracked with lust, I twist in fast embrace
Then, mad with thrashings of wakefulness,
I encourage the venom in my vital streams
But come the morning I curse fitful dreams
For my visions of bescaled demons,
And in the mirror, no mark is left,
‘Cept the barest puncture, ‘pon my breast.
Coil and writhe, flicker like second-tickers,
Stretch like smoke across smouldered carpets,
Hiss like whispering, murderous gas from canisters
When I sleep, they wriggle ‘cross my lips,
And down the creases of my back,
And with softly strident tongues,
Riddle subtle muddles in muttered tones
Delightfully, I feel their fangs in me,
Wracked with lust, I twist in fast embrace
Then, mad with thrashings of wakefulness,
I encourage the venom in my vital streams
But come the morning I curse fitful dreams
For my visions of bescaled demons,
And in the mirror, no mark is left,
‘Cept the barest puncture, ‘pon my breast.
Midnight Boulevard
A symphony of sirens tear down the moonlight high street
- out in the dark beyond my window
Reign in speed to a swerve-then-stop
Blaring over a pavement
Where a boy and his end had met
The medics had poured out; one, two, three
Leaving the doors at awkward angles
Pointing back into the street
- another siren, drawn by the scent perhaps, nudges near
Has to dissemble
Its sound to a hooting cough
As it hobbles past the knot of
Cars and yellow jackets,
No-one and blood
Once clear, off it glares to a striding screech, whole again
Half a dozen more, that same evening.
- out in the dark beyond my window
Reign in speed to a swerve-then-stop
Blaring over a pavement
Where a boy and his end had met
The medics had poured out; one, two, three
Leaving the doors at awkward angles
Pointing back into the street
- another siren, drawn by the scent perhaps, nudges near
Has to dissemble
Its sound to a hooting cough
As it hobbles past the knot of
Cars and yellow jackets,
No-one and blood
Once clear, off it glares to a striding screech, whole again
Half a dozen more, that same evening.
Midnight Boulevard
A symphony of sirens tear down the moonlight high street
- out in the dark beyond my window
Reign in speed to a swerve-then-stop
Blaring over a pavement
Where a boy and his end had met
The medics had poured out; one, two, three
Leaving the doors at awkward angles
Pointing back into the street
- another siren, drawn by the scent perhaps, nudges near
Has to dissemble
Its sound to a hooting cough
As it hobbles past the knot of
Cars and yellow jackets,
No-one and blood
Once clear, off it glares to a striding screech, whole again
Half a dozen more, that same evening.
- out in the dark beyond my window
Reign in speed to a swerve-then-stop
Blaring over a pavement
Where a boy and his end had met
The medics had poured out; one, two, three
Leaving the doors at awkward angles
Pointing back into the street
- another siren, drawn by the scent perhaps, nudges near
Has to dissemble
Its sound to a hooting cough
As it hobbles past the knot of
Cars and yellow jackets,
No-one and blood
Once clear, off it glares to a striding screech, whole again
Half a dozen more, that same evening.
The Water Garden
This garden by the water of illusions
The duck – bobbing – is not an illusion
My thought – the duck bobbing is not an illusion,
Is an illusion
The blossom heads springing to and fro,
Are not an illusions
The hammer blows on concrete were not illusions,
But now, are as solid – less solid – than air
Some illusions are intricately woven
From memorable things
Some are echoes of memorable things
Echoes of illusions
Things are, or they are not.
Illusions are what is not
This is not an illusion,
This is what is
The duck – bobbing – is not an illusion
My thought – the duck bobbing is not an illusion,
Is an illusion
The blossom heads springing to and fro,
Are not an illusions
The hammer blows on concrete were not illusions,
But now, are as solid – less solid – than air
Some illusions are intricately woven
From memorable things
Some are echoes of memorable things
Echoes of illusions
Things are, or they are not.
Illusions are what is not
This is not an illusion,
This is what is
Oil Ills
I drove up to the pumps in mid-afternoon.
Circled once like a pervert,
And swung in behind a dirty white saloon.
I was spied in the rear-view mirror by the driver,
Squinted at, determined no threat,
But we had sized one another,
Me and my fellow panic-buyer.
Already the stench of the stuff
Lavishly pricked at my nose,
As the lady in the knee skirt,
Emerged, slammed, sidled, seized
Then shuddered as she squeezed,
Every drop from the hose.
Her numbers slicked on the reels…she was done!
Or else spent…
Quick she tottered to pay and then crashed
Into her seat, sated and warm
Went the engine at the twist of her tips,
Off she sped and up I crawled,
To take my place at the smeary stalls
Circled once like a pervert,
And swung in behind a dirty white saloon.
I was spied in the rear-view mirror by the driver,
Squinted at, determined no threat,
But we had sized one another,
Me and my fellow panic-buyer.
Already the stench of the stuff
Lavishly pricked at my nose,
As the lady in the knee skirt,
Emerged, slammed, sidled, seized
Then shuddered as she squeezed,
Every drop from the hose.
Her numbers slicked on the reels…she was done!
Or else spent…
Quick she tottered to pay and then crashed
Into her seat, sated and warm
Went the engine at the twist of her tips,
Off she sped and up I crawled,
To take my place at the smeary stalls
Battersea Power Station
(Entry)
Do the stacks seem to grasp,
At smokes of cloud, as they pass?
On simple, empty March-bound breeze,
Hazy through the quadrille seize
Does the winter belly-ache to burn again?
Deep inside the frozen Merlin giant,
Fused to the rock, undergazing Tintagel
Awaiting never-thaw or execution
By modernity, myths
Obscured by steel and glass mist
Slowly beginning to gather around your feet
Dim tons of grim stare bear down
On the sick malignant giggle of QVC Shopping Channel
Already filthy and tarnished.
How I hear you rock with laughter
And all the embankments shake, from
Chelsea Bridge, to Thames barrier
But still what pain – bound always to stare
From half a mile up, in the chilly air
Through the decades’ prison bars in mute despair
At your over-frothing undertakers
To see the axe’s gleam in every single tightened
Metal bolt,
Hear the murmuring crowd
In every squeal of polished, toughened glass.
(Death)
The Thames, your faithful singing friend
His wending always comforted
Wound on and on around you
In a grey and murky hood
Spoke in a language you never understood.
A once-spark, now dull
That lit his never ending night
Even at your birth, he was there – welcomed you
You felt welcomed – he cannot save you
You look like a dead table, deathly young ephemera
To float gently down a yellow, cholera river
Now, seconds wheel around chimneys
Pecking into hours, nesting into years.
White, smooth stocking legs,
A murder victim, half hidden by a bush
Below: unsystematic smash of cigarette-burn glass
A pack of alien cipher cards,
Flock of birds,
Test flies over a corpse
(Haunting)
But more than muscled arms, or sinewy bones behind those walls
So power station-brick-real that
The space itself is damaged, will be solid
When your bricks are torn down,
A massive, hideous air-ghost will haunt the buildings to come
Great, hard edges will protrude into condo living rooms,
Hands will pass through
Nothing and come out brick red.
The smell of rust will never subside.
Hemmed in behind miniature fencing
By dignified agreement not to struggle
But you could cast them down like
They were blade-grass walls
And gallop across the land in strides
Over mountain sides – to where?
To which wind would you flee?
In what ore-kind province could you hide?
That’s why you didn’t struggle
Sleepy orange diggers loiter,
Just beyond the railway arches, tastefully placed
Out of your sight; they smile through their snores
Like uniform-blind guards:
Theirs’ not to reason why –just following orders
Already drowsily, dipping their beaks into
The earth and concrete, testing your blood and flesh
For tenderness, yield or mortification
I will be here to watch the towers tumble down into dust
Do the stacks seem to grasp,
At smokes of cloud, as they pass?
On simple, empty March-bound breeze,
Hazy through the quadrille seize
Does the winter belly-ache to burn again?
Deep inside the frozen Merlin giant,
Fused to the rock, undergazing Tintagel
Awaiting never-thaw or execution
By modernity, myths
Obscured by steel and glass mist
Slowly beginning to gather around your feet
Dim tons of grim stare bear down
On the sick malignant giggle of QVC Shopping Channel
Already filthy and tarnished.
How I hear you rock with laughter
And all the embankments shake, from
Chelsea Bridge, to Thames barrier
But still what pain – bound always to stare
From half a mile up, in the chilly air
Through the decades’ prison bars in mute despair
At your over-frothing undertakers
To see the axe’s gleam in every single tightened
Metal bolt,
Hear the murmuring crowd
In every squeal of polished, toughened glass.
(Death)
The Thames, your faithful singing friend
His wending always comforted
Wound on and on around you
In a grey and murky hood
Spoke in a language you never understood.
A once-spark, now dull
That lit his never ending night
Even at your birth, he was there – welcomed you
You felt welcomed – he cannot save you
You look like a dead table, deathly young ephemera
To float gently down a yellow, cholera river
Now, seconds wheel around chimneys
Pecking into hours, nesting into years.
White, smooth stocking legs,
A murder victim, half hidden by a bush
Below: unsystematic smash of cigarette-burn glass
A pack of alien cipher cards,
Flock of birds,
Test flies over a corpse
(Haunting)
But more than muscled arms, or sinewy bones behind those walls
So power station-brick-real that
The space itself is damaged, will be solid
When your bricks are torn down,
A massive, hideous air-ghost will haunt the buildings to come
Great, hard edges will protrude into condo living rooms,
Hands will pass through
Nothing and come out brick red.
The smell of rust will never subside.
Hemmed in behind miniature fencing
By dignified agreement not to struggle
But you could cast them down like
They were blade-grass walls
And gallop across the land in strides
Over mountain sides – to where?
To which wind would you flee?
In what ore-kind province could you hide?
That’s why you didn’t struggle
Sleepy orange diggers loiter,
Just beyond the railway arches, tastefully placed
Out of your sight; they smile through their snores
Like uniform-blind guards:
Theirs’ not to reason why –just following orders
Already drowsily, dipping their beaks into
The earth and concrete, testing your blood and flesh
For tenderness, yield or mortification
I will be here to watch the towers tumble down into dust
A Swim of River
A swim of river smiles afloat
A land in Winter’s icy choke
A beat of chill-light tiptoes down
Between the trees beyond the town
A henge of benches wide and see
The laughter-waving ever leaves
A blind of passer-bys clip cold
Beside the water’s gaping gold
A land in Winter’s icy choke
A beat of chill-light tiptoes down
Between the trees beyond the town
A henge of benches wide and see
The laughter-waving ever leaves
A blind of passer-bys clip cold
Beside the water’s gaping gold
She is the Port Town that Sailors Never Leave
“She is the port town that sailors never leave…”
1. She is the port town that sailors never leave
Slumped drunk over sodden tavern benches
They murmur, giggle and sob into their troubled sleep
She is the cat-dark cobble way, quiet with misadventure...
* * *
2. Let me begin again my story before in age and wine forget,
With tattered sails and battered boards, bleeding men tied to masts,
Two days from our greatest storm, hours from our deaths were swept,
Into the sight of rising smoke and towers and sail - dry land at last!
3. Like a dream that begs to live against the pale blade of day
Happ’ly we flew, from the bec’ning maw towards the light of life we crept
How could we know instead, my friends, a thousand ends met in this place?
That a thousand grinning secrets, quiet, the tranquil seeming waters kept?
4. Men whose bones were steeped through war, sinew strung from hunt and sport,
The playful water of the sea had long since dashed away and broken,
Those not saved by stars nor luck, pulled for life into this port,
Stroke on slow stroke, near end, we crept, between the harbour walls flung open
5.Those of us not blind by sun or wracked with fiery-veined fatigue,
Found eyes leap in fevered caress from wood to field upon the cove,
So long upon the swaying sea! Famished to walk on solid green,
In deep delirium we'd dreamed: of pigs and geese, rich orchard and grove!
6. Now ever as the river of time, wends on between this shore and that,
Eats at our crumbling banks of sense, obscures great solid rock with spray,
One promontory that doubtless will fade last beneath the cataract,
Were our first, feeble steps on station at the winking of the day
7. While far above, the gambling stars set in their bluey, darkening arc,
Watched us ghostly newborns wander on the salt-starched quay;
And lit upon a jostle of ships, strange ensigns hoist on every mast,
Painted suns and crests and beasts, each a story of the sea
8. We passed unwatched into a hoard that thronged and fished on water's meet,
Such panoply of folk was never seen together in one place!
Sat under dusk and quieting light, with subtle talk and careful greet,
With braided hair or shorn or plait, skin burnt or black, in tatters or lace
9. Recalled to me the heady haze of a drowsy, battle-weary army
Sword set down by ringing fires, with sung or strummed murmured song
Who knows what wars these men had fought, what enemies sat in parley?
What virtued deeds and vicious rape was swapped in curved foreign tongue?
10. But behind the lips of chatter, chanced a cold and shade-like glow
And turned the strange but stranger still: once-moving men stood like statues
Light seemed to leak from ground itself, undermarked the surface flow
Enwrapped the wharf and ships and all, embraced with dark and hidden rapture
11. And careless wisps wafted here and there ‘pon fringes of this crowd
That curled to form the pleasing shapes of lovers left and friends since passed
Yet vanished when clearly fixed upon, dissolved to air without a sound
Bewitched our fevered minds and so twas gamely, lightly we followed on
12. With ease and turned head in laughter, a-strut in gangish hometown swagger
Further through black lustred streets hung with swaying bronzed baskets
We mindless few strolled beneath the jewelled dice cups' fateful rattle
As auguries of fate were spelt out in the heavens soot-dusk casket
13. Sudden we heard a laughter-chime echo between stony bricks
We stopped and stood, hushed and peered, “There again! The sound of feast!”
Twas no mistaking: music, mirth! Our boot clad feet stepped bright and brisk
Towards the ear of warming cheer, now every corner we turned in haste
14. Until at last when sense of sea, so deep engraved, was all but lost
We wove into an ancient ruin, o’er grown with vine, aglow with fire
And black and orange shadows rose from the flames to form a host
Of faceless, dancing players garland’d in gems and bright sapphires
15. And wine with cloudy bloody hue was thrust at once in horns of gold
Into our greedy, hungry hands, to glaze our salt parchéd lips,
With a bronzy, cloying film. How richly did we drink embolden’d
As one again we rudely sang! Bit at fruits and gnawed hog ribs
16. And never did this glut of plenty, scoffed at, swilled at, once subside
Despite our taste for every spoil of all our many adversities,
With hungers weathered and watered long ‘pon crashing seas, slow ebb tides
White swells, knife rocks - now shelter-held; we supped and dreamed we were at ease
17. No Hercules and all his men could quaff this might of food,
Nor Hell-sent hound with dreadful snarl ward this joyful fray
That wended out around the town in blissful merry mood,
Under arch and over bridge down torch-lit passageway
18. As for hundredth time I called health unto my hosts and drank,
With wonder l did sudden chance a glimpse beyond my cup
Into the sky to see but naught, naught but tarry inky blank
Fear, my ever-whip had slept, now seemed to stir upon his hook...
19. For where the dawn? Her singing birds? Her sharp, silver air?
She: the bane of morning stars, who gently with a warming grace
Enfolds their chilly sparks before the sun’s fiery glare,
Blazes burning red upon a wild and newborn hemisphere
20. How long had glimm’d the ochre moon, frozen in his witching hour?
How long in laughter had he rocked, back and forth twixt phase to phase?
Casting down a baleful mirth from lofty ‘luminated tower,
Now stark white truth lay snow-like heavy, I shrank in fear under his gaze,
21. In horror I saw twas none to see of my brave shipmates, my worth fellows!
‘Cept for distant long lost laughter or snatches of a sea-drawn song
Half-known faces loomed out the shadow, but would not hear my warning bellow!
On and on through arms like weeds, weaved and knotted tight and strong
22. Like mighty furrows charged into a chopping sea in rage of war
With the elemental spirits, the heaving throng would sweep and yawn!
And wash and crash and close again like fury’s foaming maw,
It smoked and railed and cast me back! And down to ground forlorn!
23. I held no weapon at my belt, nor saw a living, breathing ally
With whom to brace and make a stand, backs charged to our final rock…
And so I flew, and shame was mine.. Stripped of thoughts of bloody rally
This hero of the marine blade lay broken, cowed. Twas all for mock!
24. Each step I took in dreaming battle, away, silent now, I clutched
My hands tight about my chest; it seemed my very spirit bled
At my heels with every brush of hand and enervating touch,
Spiralled down the stony staircase, toward the rushing doors of death!
* * *
25. Allow me pause to smoke a while and charge my dwindling wine…
Sudden swept a chancing draft, a wafted salted scent,
Unwrapped the heavy scarlet webs, o’er blanketed mine eye,
And soft beswore my ebbing heart, “Not yet! Do not relent!”
26. And as the wreathes of rosy promise fell about my feet,
I reached and caught cold ledge to rock to edge of ghasting cliff,
At last over the jagged lip that fell away to bluey beat
I slid, shingle tumbled down to a moored and sturdy skiff
27. At once away I shoved from the gently booming shore
Treacherous slow! For I was hollow, now more a mask than man
Across a storm-shy inlet rowed, oar over sinew straining oar…
At once away, but doomed to gaze, doomed to fix upon that land
28. Afar, upon a dying crackle of shadow-breathing wind I saw,
Aloft the island’s heights, the night, her fleet cloak, billow once then flee,
For sudden broke the glorious day atop his shining car!
On blazing blood and gold carriage, in utmost majesty!
29. Out into yellow shining broad, I drifted, current borne; my thoughts
Whose flaming steeds had charged, now stilled, drank in peace from mountain streams,
And found in Neptune’s cradle rest, laid out upon the warming boards
Beneath the trade wind’s swirling songs, sung in their never-ending dream
30. I had escaped, relief o’er washed, my home my one desire; but
The islands bow had not found rest, not yet, and yet it loosed at me,
A sun-born gilded arrow flew, shot from a lofty bronzy spire
Before it slipped beyond the rim, beyond the very edge of sea.
* * *
31. These lights are done; this tale’s fade; the wat’ry stage now clear,
For dawn, see, she comes again, wrapped in her silken grey,
To gently rouse the snoozing heads in consequence of beer,
Perhaps to pour fresh sun upon the boats that creak among the bay
32. And so I leave you to your slumber, and rise and walk to morning’s water,
To where the ships’ bones have gathered, to join the sea birds’ wheeling chatter,
To caves whose voices whisper myth, where watching fates await in mist
To feebly walk along the shore, and watch the scudding rise and fall
33. And search with failing sight the sky to seek that awful golden beam
That pierced so deep, that took full root, for which dim eyes are still agleam
And wish with terror, I were free, of the barb that pierced my heart at sea,
And fear the distant sail that bears her, flag aflutter, upon the breeze.
1. She is the port town that sailors never leave
Slumped drunk over sodden tavern benches
They murmur, giggle and sob into their troubled sleep
She is the cat-dark cobble way, quiet with misadventure...
* * *
2. Let me begin again my story before in age and wine forget,
With tattered sails and battered boards, bleeding men tied to masts,
Two days from our greatest storm, hours from our deaths were swept,
Into the sight of rising smoke and towers and sail - dry land at last!
3. Like a dream that begs to live against the pale blade of day
Happ’ly we flew, from the bec’ning maw towards the light of life we crept
How could we know instead, my friends, a thousand ends met in this place?
That a thousand grinning secrets, quiet, the tranquil seeming waters kept?
4. Men whose bones were steeped through war, sinew strung from hunt and sport,
The playful water of the sea had long since dashed away and broken,
Those not saved by stars nor luck, pulled for life into this port,
Stroke on slow stroke, near end, we crept, between the harbour walls flung open
5.Those of us not blind by sun or wracked with fiery-veined fatigue,
Found eyes leap in fevered caress from wood to field upon the cove,
So long upon the swaying sea! Famished to walk on solid green,
In deep delirium we'd dreamed: of pigs and geese, rich orchard and grove!
6. Now ever as the river of time, wends on between this shore and that,
Eats at our crumbling banks of sense, obscures great solid rock with spray,
One promontory that doubtless will fade last beneath the cataract,
Were our first, feeble steps on station at the winking of the day
7. While far above, the gambling stars set in their bluey, darkening arc,
Watched us ghostly newborns wander on the salt-starched quay;
And lit upon a jostle of ships, strange ensigns hoist on every mast,
Painted suns and crests and beasts, each a story of the sea
8. We passed unwatched into a hoard that thronged and fished on water's meet,
Such panoply of folk was never seen together in one place!
Sat under dusk and quieting light, with subtle talk and careful greet,
With braided hair or shorn or plait, skin burnt or black, in tatters or lace
9. Recalled to me the heady haze of a drowsy, battle-weary army
Sword set down by ringing fires, with sung or strummed murmured song
Who knows what wars these men had fought, what enemies sat in parley?
What virtued deeds and vicious rape was swapped in curved foreign tongue?
10. But behind the lips of chatter, chanced a cold and shade-like glow
And turned the strange but stranger still: once-moving men stood like statues
Light seemed to leak from ground itself, undermarked the surface flow
Enwrapped the wharf and ships and all, embraced with dark and hidden rapture
11. And careless wisps wafted here and there ‘pon fringes of this crowd
That curled to form the pleasing shapes of lovers left and friends since passed
Yet vanished when clearly fixed upon, dissolved to air without a sound
Bewitched our fevered minds and so twas gamely, lightly we followed on
12. With ease and turned head in laughter, a-strut in gangish hometown swagger
Further through black lustred streets hung with swaying bronzed baskets
We mindless few strolled beneath the jewelled dice cups' fateful rattle
As auguries of fate were spelt out in the heavens soot-dusk casket
13. Sudden we heard a laughter-chime echo between stony bricks
We stopped and stood, hushed and peered, “There again! The sound of feast!”
Twas no mistaking: music, mirth! Our boot clad feet stepped bright and brisk
Towards the ear of warming cheer, now every corner we turned in haste
14. Until at last when sense of sea, so deep engraved, was all but lost
We wove into an ancient ruin, o’er grown with vine, aglow with fire
And black and orange shadows rose from the flames to form a host
Of faceless, dancing players garland’d in gems and bright sapphires
15. And wine with cloudy bloody hue was thrust at once in horns of gold
Into our greedy, hungry hands, to glaze our salt parchéd lips,
With a bronzy, cloying film. How richly did we drink embolden’d
As one again we rudely sang! Bit at fruits and gnawed hog ribs
16. And never did this glut of plenty, scoffed at, swilled at, once subside
Despite our taste for every spoil of all our many adversities,
With hungers weathered and watered long ‘pon crashing seas, slow ebb tides
White swells, knife rocks - now shelter-held; we supped and dreamed we were at ease
17. No Hercules and all his men could quaff this might of food,
Nor Hell-sent hound with dreadful snarl ward this joyful fray
That wended out around the town in blissful merry mood,
Under arch and over bridge down torch-lit passageway
18. As for hundredth time I called health unto my hosts and drank,
With wonder l did sudden chance a glimpse beyond my cup
Into the sky to see but naught, naught but tarry inky blank
Fear, my ever-whip had slept, now seemed to stir upon his hook...
19. For where the dawn? Her singing birds? Her sharp, silver air?
She: the bane of morning stars, who gently with a warming grace
Enfolds their chilly sparks before the sun’s fiery glare,
Blazes burning red upon a wild and newborn hemisphere
20. How long had glimm’d the ochre moon, frozen in his witching hour?
How long in laughter had he rocked, back and forth twixt phase to phase?
Casting down a baleful mirth from lofty ‘luminated tower,
Now stark white truth lay snow-like heavy, I shrank in fear under his gaze,
21. In horror I saw twas none to see of my brave shipmates, my worth fellows!
‘Cept for distant long lost laughter or snatches of a sea-drawn song
Half-known faces loomed out the shadow, but would not hear my warning bellow!
On and on through arms like weeds, weaved and knotted tight and strong
22. Like mighty furrows charged into a chopping sea in rage of war
With the elemental spirits, the heaving throng would sweep and yawn!
And wash and crash and close again like fury’s foaming maw,
It smoked and railed and cast me back! And down to ground forlorn!
23. I held no weapon at my belt, nor saw a living, breathing ally
With whom to brace and make a stand, backs charged to our final rock…
And so I flew, and shame was mine.. Stripped of thoughts of bloody rally
This hero of the marine blade lay broken, cowed. Twas all for mock!
24. Each step I took in dreaming battle, away, silent now, I clutched
My hands tight about my chest; it seemed my very spirit bled
At my heels with every brush of hand and enervating touch,
Spiralled down the stony staircase, toward the rushing doors of death!
* * *
25. Allow me pause to smoke a while and charge my dwindling wine…
Sudden swept a chancing draft, a wafted salted scent,
Unwrapped the heavy scarlet webs, o’er blanketed mine eye,
And soft beswore my ebbing heart, “Not yet! Do not relent!”
26. And as the wreathes of rosy promise fell about my feet,
I reached and caught cold ledge to rock to edge of ghasting cliff,
At last over the jagged lip that fell away to bluey beat
I slid, shingle tumbled down to a moored and sturdy skiff
27. At once away I shoved from the gently booming shore
Treacherous slow! For I was hollow, now more a mask than man
Across a storm-shy inlet rowed, oar over sinew straining oar…
At once away, but doomed to gaze, doomed to fix upon that land
28. Afar, upon a dying crackle of shadow-breathing wind I saw,
Aloft the island’s heights, the night, her fleet cloak, billow once then flee,
For sudden broke the glorious day atop his shining car!
On blazing blood and gold carriage, in utmost majesty!
29. Out into yellow shining broad, I drifted, current borne; my thoughts
Whose flaming steeds had charged, now stilled, drank in peace from mountain streams,
And found in Neptune’s cradle rest, laid out upon the warming boards
Beneath the trade wind’s swirling songs, sung in their never-ending dream
30. I had escaped, relief o’er washed, my home my one desire; but
The islands bow had not found rest, not yet, and yet it loosed at me,
A sun-born gilded arrow flew, shot from a lofty bronzy spire
Before it slipped beyond the rim, beyond the very edge of sea.
* * *
31. These lights are done; this tale’s fade; the wat’ry stage now clear,
For dawn, see, she comes again, wrapped in her silken grey,
To gently rouse the snoozing heads in consequence of beer,
Perhaps to pour fresh sun upon the boats that creak among the bay
32. And so I leave you to your slumber, and rise and walk to morning’s water,
To where the ships’ bones have gathered, to join the sea birds’ wheeling chatter,
To caves whose voices whisper myth, where watching fates await in mist
To feebly walk along the shore, and watch the scudding rise and fall
33. And search with failing sight the sky to seek that awful golden beam
That pierced so deep, that took full root, for which dim eyes are still agleam
And wish with terror, I were free, of the barb that pierced my heart at sea,
And fear the distant sail that bears her, flag aflutter, upon the breeze.
Friday, 10 August 2007
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
Death of a Work Relationship
What do I have to believe for it to be ‘over’?
What is it that will make me believe that
You are not,
Never was,
Mine?
Make it quick.
Make it a short sharp email, with one stiff kiss
When you told me you hated me
There were none, and I preferred it
But I cannot take the cooling
How I smiled vaguely at you today
And used some poor joke, just charming enough
For the girls from accounts to laugh
Because I am not,
Have never been,
Cold for you
And my mask slips, when I step
Too hastily, from one leg to another
Balancing on my tail,
Upon this stage of monkeys
What is it that will make me believe that
You are not,
Never was,
Mine?
Make it quick.
Make it a short sharp email, with one stiff kiss
When you told me you hated me
There were none, and I preferred it
But I cannot take the cooling
How I smiled vaguely at you today
And used some poor joke, just charming enough
For the girls from accounts to laugh
Because I am not,
Have never been,
Cold for you
And my mask slips, when I step
Too hastily, from one leg to another
Balancing on my tail,
Upon this stage of monkeys
On the Bus
Instead of staring at that girls’ tits on the bus –
And her getting off, going home
And saying to her sister
“Fuckin, what is it about men?
You wear a low cut top on the bus and they
Fucking perv at your tits”
And her sister saying,
“You’re lucky you’ve got tits”
- I’d look her in eye and say
“Do you live down St. John’s Crescent?”
And she’d say
“No, why, do I remind you of someone?”
And I’d get a roguish grin, she’d be pleased I asked
And I’d say,
“Yeah…”
And then, with my mouth hanging open a bit, like Dom would,
“No”
And she’d laugh
I’d be in her bed in a week.
But I didn’t
So she got off
To have a conversation with her sister
And her getting off, going home
And saying to her sister
“Fuckin, what is it about men?
You wear a low cut top on the bus and they
Fucking perv at your tits”
And her sister saying,
“You’re lucky you’ve got tits”
- I’d look her in eye and say
“Do you live down St. John’s Crescent?”
And she’d say
“No, why, do I remind you of someone?”
And I’d get a roguish grin, she’d be pleased I asked
And I’d say,
“Yeah…”
And then, with my mouth hanging open a bit, like Dom would,
“No”
And she’d laugh
I’d be in her bed in a week.
But I didn’t
So she got off
To have a conversation with her sister
Triple Backup
Drinking a cold and crisp lager by the pool
Under blazing sun Jay, Stu and Ferg were lying low
Having escaped, to shed T’ Big Smoke from their skins
To kick back, see some sea, and wait for what card
Lady L would deal them; let me back up
A bit to explain why Ferg had no luggage
‘Cept a tweed jacket, plumb trousers and tie: an age
They waited at Gatwick for him to show at the taxi pool
Stu and Jay, takin’ turns to smoke before goin’ back up
To the ‘Village Tavern’ boozer, then reunited below
Sat on crates, drinking posh M&S gut rot n playin’ cards,
Before Nick did them a favour when Ferg did the askin’
Stu and Jay left Ferg some lager and by the skin
Of their teeth made their gate call; air rage
From chavs minimised, Ferg followed and Blighty was discard
Ed, for a week, work deceived, and how much they would pull
Absorbed their dirty minds (you may think this was low
But suck it – this is a tale of true triple Backup)
Straight off, the hotel Terminators got their backs up
Triple ‘titanium exoskelton under human skin’
Were laying up banging tunes and the low
Down bout bringin’ in supplies of food and tin; just over-age
Welsh birds caused a storm - Posh could play pool!
But our three fellows dodged the game to play T’ drunkard
Not to mention that Stu had played the brown card
- the Ass of Spades, no less so he ran backup
To the W.C a lot, while Jay and Ferg had two ample
Reasons to be cheerful – imagine them two buskin’
Their talents, before and after they spotted extra baggage:
A boyf and a cherry – easier to play one-handed cello
Mary J came to stay but Ferg bottled it on the li-lo
Got stealthed and flew before enduring a Turkish Finger Rampage
Around his crack; Jay got skanked bad his bank card
Ate up like a kebab, so Stu switched the dollar to offer backup
By this time badly needed, cos only paper left was XL skins
Some creative accountin’ was called for, a muddy pool
Of resources, Enron would’ve had nothing on those age-old skin
Flints, Backup champs eight days running says the score card
But lo and behold! No losers, just three winners, sipping by the pool.
Under blazing sun Jay, Stu and Ferg were lying low
Having escaped, to shed T’ Big Smoke from their skins
To kick back, see some sea, and wait for what card
Lady L would deal them; let me back up
A bit to explain why Ferg had no luggage
‘Cept a tweed jacket, plumb trousers and tie: an age
They waited at Gatwick for him to show at the taxi pool
Stu and Jay, takin’ turns to smoke before goin’ back up
To the ‘Village Tavern’ boozer, then reunited below
Sat on crates, drinking posh M&S gut rot n playin’ cards,
Before Nick did them a favour when Ferg did the askin’
Stu and Jay left Ferg some lager and by the skin
Of their teeth made their gate call; air rage
From chavs minimised, Ferg followed and Blighty was discard
Ed, for a week, work deceived, and how much they would pull
Absorbed their dirty minds (you may think this was low
But suck it – this is a tale of true triple Backup)
Straight off, the hotel Terminators got their backs up
Triple ‘titanium exoskelton under human skin’
Were laying up banging tunes and the low
Down bout bringin’ in supplies of food and tin; just over-age
Welsh birds caused a storm - Posh could play pool!
But our three fellows dodged the game to play T’ drunkard
Not to mention that Stu had played the brown card
- the Ass of Spades, no less so he ran backup
To the W.C a lot, while Jay and Ferg had two ample
Reasons to be cheerful – imagine them two buskin’
Their talents, before and after they spotted extra baggage:
A boyf and a cherry – easier to play one-handed cello
Mary J came to stay but Ferg bottled it on the li-lo
Got stealthed and flew before enduring a Turkish Finger Rampage
Around his crack; Jay got skanked bad his bank card
Ate up like a kebab, so Stu switched the dollar to offer backup
By this time badly needed, cos only paper left was XL skins
Some creative accountin’ was called for, a muddy pool
Of resources, Enron would’ve had nothing on those age-old skin
Flints, Backup champs eight days running says the score card
But lo and behold! No losers, just three winners, sipping by the pool.
Beyond the Lawn
When I was very young, you seemed very old
As ancient as the gnarled, wrinkled trees in your garden
With a dusting of soft, grey cotton hair
Gently perched on the highest bough
A nest perhaps, for a wind weary bird of paradise
As I grew, you shrank a little
My world widened day by day
My arms and legs insisted on exploring
Every space that was not my pram, my cot and
Your petticoats become an ideal hiding place
From which to race into your mythic, secret garden
Replete with shining coy carp, where every piece of
Half buried flint became an axe head, arrowhead
Bunged by some caveman; where forbidden
Cooking apples moulded over those two
Sacred, solemn hamster graves
That I could hardly look upon but had to!
When the novelty of your breakfast bar
Wore off and the dusty Dickens’ and Shakespeares’
Began to glow; when orange squash became milky tea
(The Rich Tea biscuits lengthened into Kit Kats)
Somewhere amongst these you started to get younger
When your eyesight began to fail, illuminated
Suddenly, I saw the great youth and the strength
That lay at the bottom of your walking stick pot
And heard your kind laughter grow but louder
As if it was me wearing two hearing aids and not you
Later, when I could spare a few moments
From my terribly important life
I’d drive the mile or so to sit
Across from you, tell you censored tales
(that doubtless you saw through)
From a new city I called my home
Or I would offer up a choice fact or stat
I was proud to share (which doubtless you already knew)
And with eyes wide, agog, you’d say
With a slow and gracious nod, in delight
From left to right, first a “gosh!” then a “re-al-lee?!”
As if I’d made it up on the spot
Now my lips are full, my lungs
Enlarged enough to blow a horn for you
I am grown, and you are gone.
But I remember: In wealth you were modest
At the end, in frailty, you were strong
I do believe there is a grassy field
Where as souls divided at birth we all are bound,
Where we all belong; he will be there, your John
To welcome you, as you will me
When I, too, step through the gate that lies ajar,
Just beyond the sunlit lawn
A Double-Barrelled Parking Problem
story by James Richards
Motorists in affluent Berkhamsted started with an explosion last night as a 16-year old Council Environment Overview and Scrutiny Committee was shot dead for not paying to park.
Berkhamsted also has the highest number of people being caught in a running battle in the early hours of yesterday morning because their tickets had expired. Just two days earlier, gangs of Hemel Hempstead drivers armed with knives and hot topics clashed in the Old Kent Road, battling on-street parking contraventions as terrified shoppers looked on.
A fifteen-year-old boy was left lying in a pool of statistics.
Large parts of picture was cordoned off as Councillor Peter Matthews of Berkhamsted Town Council searched for the murder weapon. He said: “We stagger enforcement officers in a way that is proportional to Detective Inspector Whitehouses in the area.”
One resident said: “I heard the bangs and thought it was the Borough Council's solution. A policeman came round soon after and said a boy had been fined five times.”
Cnllr Matthews said “Berkhamsted has a double-barrelled parking problem, we know that. Rival SBT and Organised Crime crews park in Waitrose to buy a loaf of bread and then will stay for hours in the town centre, occupying spaces. They say it’s about turf, but from what it looked like, they just wanted to fight”.
Cnllr Matthews suggested a solution may be to increase the cost of the drugs on the street that the young people are smoking. He said: “It’s a complex situation we are looking at”.
Any one with information regarding parking in the town should call Southwark CID on 020 7239 7711
Motorists in affluent Berkhamsted started with an explosion last night as a 16-year old Council Environment Overview and Scrutiny Committee was shot dead for not paying to park.
Berkhamsted also has the highest number of people being caught in a running battle in the early hours of yesterday morning because their tickets had expired. Just two days earlier, gangs of Hemel Hempstead drivers armed with knives and hot topics clashed in the Old Kent Road, battling on-street parking contraventions as terrified shoppers looked on.
A fifteen-year-old boy was left lying in a pool of statistics.
Large parts of picture was cordoned off as Councillor Peter Matthews of Berkhamsted Town Council searched for the murder weapon. He said: “We stagger enforcement officers in a way that is proportional to Detective Inspector Whitehouses in the area.”
One resident said: “I heard the bangs and thought it was the Borough Council's solution. A policeman came round soon after and said a boy had been fined five times.”
Cnllr Matthews said “Berkhamsted has a double-barrelled parking problem, we know that. Rival SBT and Organised Crime crews park in Waitrose to buy a loaf of bread and then will stay for hours in the town centre, occupying spaces. They say it’s about turf, but from what it looked like, they just wanted to fight”.
Cnllr Matthews suggested a solution may be to increase the cost of the drugs on the street that the young people are smoking. He said: “It’s a complex situation we are looking at”.
Any one with information regarding parking in the town should call Southwark CID on 020 7239 7711
Thursday, 2 August 2007
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