Bloody Buses

The air was heavy
fat and foul
with sweat a kind of fear
and then the smallest
then the young ones
spat your sweat
You hold your breath

Our sun grows hotter
ground alive
A mass of bodies scattered
This was the end
we knew it true
the first rain landing spattered.

Redness Goldness
ran in runs
soaking tree flooding parks
drowning drains
flowing on
No you can’t stop
There is no one to
Hold these bloody beasts
from what they’re
built to do

Blinsolp

Delusions of grandeur
I’m the colour blind prince
In black and white printouts
I’ve no cells to re-bleed

Watching you go
Into skies, brightly lit
There’s no tears to remind us
of what you could free

As screeching flocks fly-by
Grating and raw
Would hush if I just
If I just
If I just

Parallel

In another room
An age away
Another us
Rips the night apart
We curl a tune
And drag
A line of thought
Limping like a broken dream
To drown, face down
In our puddles of beer and tea
Washed ashore in perpetuity
on our islands of cakes
In those valleys of skunks

Through a portent,
Unfathomable universes,
Diverse from ours, away,
Another us
Reaps the rewards of climbing the stars
Of sacrifices moody and unwholesome
Compromising breath of the soul itself,
Each in reward for renown
For compensation so vast and improbable that
merely reaching the heart of others,
Has immeasurably enhanced
The quality as well as status
Each of us – in this other world – enjoy.

Some blurred echo of those thoughts
Expressed above
Retain a tenuous grip in the
Blank planes of
My particular memories.
Forging bearable apology
For having squandered
Such time
And exhausted such energy.

March

This balmy March night
is sweetly delicious
A purple-filled, cloud-coloured sky
saturated in pollen
Licks at my face
Caressing and exciting me
a carefree jubilant love, warm
enticing and gorgeously fresh!

How about this night
so lithe and fascinating
Spectral whirs of light
and smells fill my head
as the sky whirs on.
Sweet sweet March.
Yum.

I Love Shopping (for Coffee)

Hot morning, must want eggs to milk your bacon good.
Do we hug what delicious get-up the bad wireless need?

Cook a sugar dad meal like lunch
we cool to mum and tea
My cable butter
today calls me;

Stop paying more, yes?
Want bad lunch hug and,
need to get hot butter to it.

 

  • a poem written using magnets on a friends fridge, some time ago… A lone survivor of many magnetic poems – perhaps this was the best?
  • nb – this was written when wireless used to mean radio!

Another 1

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Text: Adam Bujons, image (c) http://www.shutterstock.com/th/video/clip-7402507-stock-footage-white-feathers-spurt-alpha-fast-flying-animation-with-transparent-back-as-transition.html

143

Lying, cheating
thieving swines’.
Stole my life –
then broke my mind!

Caught my soul
and watched it shatter
Loaned my love for life,
to batter!

First they broke me!
Then they raped me:
Doubled back
and swiped my money!

My friend butchers –
beggars all!
Stole my brightness
killed my soul.

Those dawns you dance for
where loves eye might see,
leaves nothing to cry for,
still loving you greatly

Which Way Hombre?

Inkling, twinklings,
choices to make.
Answers for everything
voices to shake.

Ideas and pictures
which flash through the mind
Easing out friction,
taking up time

Either /or /only
never both ways!
But neither exposes,
and only one pays!

Pancho Villa

Pancho Villa

Gamble

Pytas had a teacher; Gamble.
I can teach you all
she said.
Pytas willing took her lessons,
drank Gamble’s words:
They filled his mind.
Gamble was a living teacher –
straight and broad
but barely kind.

Followed Gamble where she beckoned –
stepped in steps,
where Gamble trod.
Day and night a thirsty student
heard Gamble preach
and thought and wrote.
Always learning – ever ready –
Gamble witnessed Pytas grow.

Gamble lectured all on life
and living which was new
she knew,
to her protégé whose spongy head
would hold his breath
and wait, listening,
for the next from Gambles
knowledged breadth.

You have shown me!
Pytas cried.
Day 1000 since they started
No more a student dead in steps.
No more to hear
from this to write.
Gamble lost her faithful study
Pytas, losing time,
took flight.

What They’ll Do If You Don’t

Spadunk
La funk
Sits well on a monk
That you’re best to let run
with the bunk
In his trunk

Sit tight: don’t you worry
truly – no need to hurry
the world and its flurry
can wait.

Be poised and on cue:
Neither overtly undue
nor unseemly subdued
to the date

Poor eyes
fill with why’s?
and are quick to despise
even those that rely
on the wise
with their lies

So easily let down
the unreasonably drowned
who are spotted around
this home town

The swiftly forgotten
who dumbly sit – rotting
we’re due to stop dropping
alone

Be seen
to be clean
open house given free
set your mind to be seen
and to glean
what they mean.

Passing

Blue panes filter white light through
In your eyes the reflections within
And this time I’ve lost it
I’ve lost all this time…

One night which flew quick was won
Sleeping with you I tried keeping
Alas my frailty shone
All pleasantry’s gone
The night was soon morning
When it’s my time to go.

Early Spring Breeze

Ooo tinned breeze of early spring
How your guts do shake us
Flattering trees so bare (so rare)
Brushing back branches
Tumbling hair

Ooo tinned breeze of early spring
Waking and trembling our slumber
What do you prove
With abandon removed
As tomorrow sees roads blocked by timber

Ooo tinned breeze of early spring
Sent swift on us from Northern air
Where is spring’s warm touch?
The calm we love so much?
When will – your point made – you play fair?

Ooo tinned breeze of early spring
We know you mean no harm
But how you crash,
Smash, Lawn furniture
Still raises our alarm.

magnolia-198138_1920

Shakrilana

Last time in those pretty eyes
where your lust lay
behind cried spies
I sought fame
and found your breast
where rested head
these thoughts forget

Here the sun breaks bleak thru days
blown clouds fly free
float forms which ‘maze.
This last enchantment
seeks your gaze
though all are blinded
eyes ablaze

This single psalm is sung by tune
in pretty lanes
on afternoons
though winds and rain
fight for small sounds
their crash is quieted
when you frown

Beautiful Night

Turbulent, mindful and full of delight
Mortimer sits through day into the night.
Aware that his being here’s not wholly right,
Silent twitches and grins, though, are all that’s in sight.

When all of a sudden night falls, and all’s dark
Mortimer crawls out from under his Snark,
Pulls all his hair out which signals the start,
And wanders alone to his midnight sweetheart.

Way up a hill down the wrong end of town
The last drips of water slip onto the ground,
From a succulent body wrapped warm in a gown.
And Wanda, all fresh flesh, figures on love knocking round…

Reflected moon shimmers off Mortimer’s head,
As he passes dim bars where the punters – long dead
– argue intently of pitches that bled
From Saturday games beamed direct to their heads!

A bang and a whoop and a crunch at the door
Wakes Wanda, from slumber –
From dreams of amour.
Her shout down, like chocolate,
I’m on the 3rd floor.
Sends shivers through (thudding up stairs) Mortimer.

Lights from her face beam our man on his way
Through doorway, ajar, to a bliss where she lays.
As wonder envelopes in all of loves ways,
These lovers embrace this sweet time and for days.

_she_will_be_loved__by_larosaperlata-d3dhm2m

She Will Be Loved, Larosaperiata (Click image to jump)

Reviewed and reposted from 2011

Failing?

A magic standard gas lover
fell tragic to your arms.
So life fled quickly gushing
so little life left – gone!

Your hazy lady caught you,
a measured catch and true.
Where once you saw times mystery –
now stood loves lady new!

Was this to be our final strut
the tired late risers failing?
A love, though strong, much lacking –
a potent force, harsh; abrupt.

Sweet short

Here she sits a lady truly blue
Sweet heart lays in her lap for you
She whispers some sweet treat in time
And blurs the lines of your afternoon

Like something is wrong
In the tune in her song
Like something has left
She has sung it so long

She’s your silent Dido – carved of stone
Living in a life you dreamed was blown
As shadows stretch and rise and die
Your night lights with her white-rose tone

[revisited from Dec 2012]

There’s My Way…

Full of tea yet low on greed
How much you query the green!

All of the money and honey you stash.
Why do you need to have all of that cash?

Here I rot topped up with pot
And dysfunctioning? Me got not!

As round this life you scream in fits
Killing time and joy – losing love in bits.

Burning up days with rants and quarrel
Smashing dreams down, leaving the rubble?

How do you righteous become so bloated
When out in this liberty, I grin easy and float on.

Theres my way

Er…

Down the long way

Slow delight,
accompanies the blissful trite –
expressionless bile –
as is presented.

Along the way
the slag of a light known as day
(though it’s furthest away
from his mind)
is spent
lazily, calling for soulless penitence
from a murkier past:
Not uncommon.

The municipal pit
where all thoughts and feelings enter
is full, brimming
with nameless creations!
No claimers and nobody looks for,
or asks for, their namers –
remaining silent
till they’re called from the nights.

Who’s the hoo?

Who are your groups?
Blue groups
Blue groups

From where do they come?
Black lands
Dark skies

Who are your groups?
New groups
New groups

What do they know?
Black laughs
Dark lies

What do you wish for
bringing groups like yours here?
Bringing dreams full of shadows
hung with half-grand ideas?

What do you wish for?
What do you want?
How long have you waited?
How deep is your love?

Who are your groups
who have havoc to wreak?
Who laugh through the blood dripping smoke that you breathe?

These, your people,
Your troupes
Your troops

Who are your groups?
Who’s designs
lie on you?

 

Lautro

gods

The Gods have awoken
and they are smiling!
Not at you
but – for sakes scream – with you!
Your hearty laugh,
for now is the real time
of recompense.