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Pic for Page.1

 

a white space yawns

asking for infinity to be installed

and I am just a passenger

a wide-eyed boy in search of clarity

still in awe at the awful blankness of space

in those great oceans of unoccupied terrain

that I would people with words and sense

to make a friendly haven in the morning, a berth

a place of solace and comfort where

one  could be left without the lurk of doubt or dread

a place to own and luxuriate in

somewhere to call a home that is

full of warmth and promises

after I’ve scuffed the Welcome mat

and trodden on the post

Hello, again

Hello

 

come find me passion

maraud across my open spaces

my steppes, swept and dried

tinged and longing for

infinity

where an echo is out-run

where lines are drawn and forgotten

like desire that apes only

the very best moments.

All definition and certainty

subsumed in the haste

to consume a lavish meal.

drowned and spent

The residue. A crust

a lost love affair,

all misty

and so I go

to each new day

an addition. a loss, a stroke

an explosion of now.

we are stalled

 

we are stalled. pic for poem

as we look for change

that would not blight the small things

those things that are peripheral

like coins that fail to amount to much and disappoint

as lust does in the youth who is still unacquainted with success

in life and love and patience

so we think of puberty and how that changes us

and so on for the sake of it

the leitmotif, tra la, of life

ever in the swell of a slow rolling sea

captives of change where memories and dreams

are fine dust, the diaspora of Angels cast-offs as we

the unbelievers

run in frozen time away from Pompeii

away from the blindness that just won’t go away

Good Morning

Good Morning

Good Morning

 

 

Soft pillows on a breeze

Roll across the blue drape,

curtain of beyond

 

We are clung hard by gravity

To the still surface of our world

Imagining. Always a little short

 

The obvious is always staring

Large and blunt

At my inadequacy

 

Implacable odds

The bookmaker smug in money

And I in self-pity. In fear

 

For sadness is lost time

I cannot inhabit that

Not all day. Not every day

 

So I would rather

Blush beneath my host

And live well in the weather.

Moments

 

 

MomentsMoments

I send out daily bites
As nourishment for souls
Unbidden
Is this generosity?
Sharp insights that come from moments
Freshly squeezed. The sap of thoughts
That flounder if they are not transmitted

Throwing out the fishes and loaves
Displacement of all that is mine
Just moments. All that I have
Are they gifts?
These little things mean a lot to me
Harboured as they are in neutrality
Go children for it pleases me to watch

Discharged. My atomic vanity
Simpers. Hoping for traction
Wishing above all to be absorbed
Is this guilt?
For the smallness that haunts
Can taunt in an ironic way
Because I know too much about irrelevance