It’s been a while and we’re still here,had a baby – last year.
learning more, it slowly clears
and growing beards.
In the late daft spring of this Kentish sky,
a thrush drops low and bites the fly
at the same time, somehow, I know not why
a scalded child emits his pitch perfect cry.
In this down in the mouth midst of our latest thoughts
a cloud of must-do’s fights through maybes and oughts
Yet you sit calmly blinking
Later, late on, at night, when we’re scrubbing the pots
I doubt the comments you drop are completely ersatz.
So, beautiful sun turns to ominous dark
it’s cold out, the day left no obvious mark
In our go to bed heads some wise cricket remarks
that to embrace this new time is, perhaps, lesser than daft
And this is how it is right now.
In the morning with the tide I rise
and set off against its ebb and scrape
On the other side of this great town
work wears me out but don’t grind me down
And fresh each eve my return is glad
buoyed by this home we make
Aside the river still in tide
that fills my toothy smile so great
O sweet home and life swims by
so happy in London’s’ lung
Each day too early up I get
and break stride with the millions
A swift year this has sped me by
now chomping my mind wonders
How can I check this time’s not wasted
this promise that offers so much
Lost in time
This place: reopen
Take a seat, look around.
Last this place a point’s reflection
Made in earnest – mellow affection.
Where sweat is sweet
This home in mind
Where grime is fine
Soul comforts kind
Splendour dressed up
Mild place to stay
A hairs breadth stance
Some brief encounters with quick repose
Of trampled appraisal
The quietly encouraged of latent heart.
A shelf stacked full
Of mean literature
That flicker through time
A passage borne but followed seldom
Where once was promise
Now found hiding.
Light bounces in and the light within
Once caught is sold where light’s unknown
Smoked holy juice
A fresh fruits yield
More than most to go round
And the glow of sweet tempers
Sets light to the myriad hemp
Grown for the picking
Picked up on and planted…
In the streets on the ground
Flashed from fields
Where none play wisely – streets empty game
Streets heady weights
Heads bow with despair
From lonely looks shorn soft, so lightly
When light was right; and places won!
Now let us know this fair fantastic
Lift your feet from the ground
Look fierce at the present
know your last demands
Leave your mind in my hands
I will cherish and nurture, will fondle and love –
In this polished asylum whose quiet walls listen in.
Give me a branch in a high tree
Let me sit high in a tree
Make space in the leaves for our late tea
And as reflections on a flat lake
Capture whispers of breezes
This is what you can remember
In place of our European diseases
Just maybe in my tree so high
The answers to burning lies and whys?
The reasons for continued dire life lie!
Bring in the pain
Hide it in rain
Lie that it’s fine
And cry late again.
Hate too late
The way ahead of you now
Will NEVER be – or get – clear.
So give me a branch aloof from your brow
A high tree for me
Just one high bough.
With your bitch, full, blue moon.
You run on in pieces
in drips so drab
and break up the fun
that we waited to have.
You tyrannous slut
of a month
– Cat June!
Bringing the promise of sun and fun
to dash them and crush us -
you run on and run.
So you’ll guess I’m not pleased with you;
guess we’re not growing
to love your foul days of rain,
while you hide the suns glowing!
What have you become
now so late and wet
were you once called the sun?
I cry for you, baby
and the tears sting my cheeks!
I cry everyday
through your long blasted weeks.
Here it is
I have waited
all through day
and now at last
it touches me
caresses and envelops me
it’s in the dark I stay
and arms and legs
a day has been
a truly rich and filling one
now rest; my body drained
Slight is this
and the startling
Continuously marching on
a motion always carries on
to embrace my next awakening