Country poem / Shtrum Tikh

Strum tick
Strum tick
All sing along
Strum tick
It’s my country song
Late in fat moon
Shiny night
Strum tick
Lights a stream of bright

Strum tick
Strum tick
Soulful pace
Strum tick
Here’s a heart warmed place
Rich in history
Sweet in sound
Strum tick
Swell with hearts sweet pound

Strum tick
You’re my hearts hot fire
Strum tick
Music drawn by wire
Here in this sweet tune
So sure
Leaves the beat
For love to pour

The Keeper of the In…

Remember when you were lightening,
in the dark so wholly frightening.
You were the free one, so fantastic,
Wise as Thales, deep with magic

You escaped the demon slaying:
You escaped the holy, praying:
And you escaped a mind,
lost fraying.

I followed footsteps in the twilight:
I called to others to save your limelight.
Yet in the morn’ you’d lost the sunlight!
I summoned voices to save your last night…

I knew you could, you would, return –
Your name would once again
The throats of others burn.

We could’ve lived on forever
Although I pleaded, you claimed never,
Days would come when I’d know fever
Bear this heat (with you, survivor).

Our web of lies will not be forgotten
Another fable of the truly rotten
This high-hyped-pyre, this treaty written
Large of sound, yet lite on wisdom

Echoes of your grand lightening
Once in the dark, so wholly frightening.
You seemed the free one:
Pulsing magic.
Was just my minds burst –
thoughts fantastic.

  • this is an edited version of poem originally posted in summer of 2015.

301

Just before he sleeps abed
He sings the tunes played in his head
These minute rhymes and dainty songs
Are his to sing, to hum alone

As noises all about are blocked
The sounds heard here are safely locked
Within the passages of his mind
And so they stay: Regressed in time.

clouds 2007

Sad Tears

Tears drop hotly from cheeks
They run down
Dry before they reach the ground
A store of tears built up o’er weeks

Dressed in coats dragged fresh from the streets
Worn bare
Reveal a heart so rare
Cold golden heart mired in defeats

Through windows high in walls
Open to sky
The saddest song drifts by
On cold hearts sits the saddest song of all.

Over (tribute)

Play it slow; wake me when it’s over.
Feel the music lift you, love a supernova.

Sleep is quiet.
Sleep is quiet when I’m with you.

Faking love: Push me I roll over,
feel so warm inside – join me in a Rover.

Floating past, gone further than ever.
Quiet, dark, solitude.
Now the moments over.

Dreaming still,
Standing still, dreaming that I’m with you.
Now the feeling’s over.

Off The Page

Rivers of rooftops flow
Drowning out windows
with clouds from below.
Down where the noise and malevolence grow!

Whilst daily you claw at your dreams:
taking apart
every thought you believe.

I keep seeing your face –
hearing your succulent tongue lick your breath –
as anonymous people take place.
Stealing a memory
of what your love left.

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

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]

Crazy Cat

You crazy puss
Where in our world did
You peruse yo’ Cat-Blues?
How does this noise you make
Grow to crescendo?
What pictures appear on those eyes
that so freak you?

Crazy cat
You mad feline
Give us a clue
that might quieten your mind…
Whistling winds that carry and blur
Darken the hell
of your crazy cat purr
So yell if you need to
you banshee of night
Though we don’t understand
we won’t still your disquiet!

*

This is not a nose-dive over the much coveted pussy-cat-cliff; that space on the web for all you freaking catpic sharers, all of you! (seriously, sometimes I try to use this internet and all it throws up are pussy, porn and preaching!). This is an ode to a greatly admired cat, who through some surreal way, was able to scare the living chips out of any who ever heard her. 

She died a long time ago and the recording below – testament to her howl – was made in 2002.

You feline fanatics online, might also enjoy Ode to Smokey #nomorepussy

Shorter

A house harbours a mouse
Music she plays that she likes
Dancing, so loud on soft ears
Shouting tunes from her mousey mouth.Mouse

Part 29 (Charlies women)

The last of the Played at a different speed collection. I hope you all have a fabulous year end 2015.

Christmas white
with christ tonight,
alive tonight
– a bright white
night.
Wish christmas white.
Alive
bright bride,
well showered by lies
with a kiss
on the side
(with a silencing bribe),
for a white christmas bride.
Bride of christ
once alive
now denied,
all united!
Fallen through
dancing lows,
reeling twice
– took the blows
with a reflex in vows.
All giving
one knows.
As a crowning white glory,
well bridled
and white,
crawled the white drive
– felt alive –
crawling dryly
to christmas.
And there
landed a bright light
(with her eyes
hiding lies)
where it grows.

Part 28 (fire-eaters)

Wild,
lurid (sordid) courting –
mission stated,
started,
departed;
off for slopes
and curves and fire!
This sweet tale
of sickly loving –
lusting,
musky
(husky)
loving?
Sold by corners,
sold by fingers,
tasty-funky-feeling
fingers.
Smells
that linger,
sold by stingers,
caught in minds,
lost;
throats hoarse from
musk and lust
and sad,
sheep losers…
Waiting
– breath baited –
breathe!
Waiting.
All the time
these fires breathing
turning teaching,
hid from preaching –
hide the yearning!
Burning
for the corners,
learners,
tasted fleeting
– loving lightly –
last lick;
finale.
And off in the wild
away from the fire –
left,
breathing,
waiting,
for the next
(sheep) sad losers.

Final part of Played at a different speed, tomorrow: Part 29

Part 24 (Octovista)

Missing a sister
the laughter
remembering
a weekend of lazing
the sights filled the days in.
A visit,
her visit
my home and abode –
this Monday
farewell-day
work’s on me again day;
she’s on her way home day.
The train’s on its way
back on tracks all the way,
as my sister goes back
on this fairly sad bye-day.
We had fun
and we drunk,
for 3 days in this month –
now to normal (and formal).
The end came so fast
so farewell again sister
until Christmas ta-ta!

Tomorrow: Part 25

Part 20 (Easy Written)

Here comes a short series of poems with a faster tempo than my usual writing. I was inspired back in the 90’s by a great tune called Born Slippy, from the group Underworld.

Since starting, I have developed these pieces from first trying to imitate the lyrical rollarcoastery of the tune, although I have no music in my head when writing / reading them, I have attempted to amplify a beat through the words.

The series of 10 works is called Played at a different speed and initially they were just numbered Part 20, 21 and so on, however I then started titling each and over the next 10 posts you can enjoy the full ensemble. [although this obviously sounds pretentious, it is done in fun – as most of my work – even the bleak shit – so you take it as seriously as you want… they’re your eyes.]

Little bounty captive
waiting
low fired sword
sharp from debating
and alternative hating –
Blue and Red alternating.
As the criers
and those flyers,
crying –
flying,
catch the midday sun
and hold the falling sun,
this burning sun.
Morning sun.
This is our sun!
And it’s in print
for all the readers and writers –
all the bleeders,
all the watchers
seeing.
Calm sun –
calm,
calm sun…
Cry light
head bleeders,
while they’re fleeing.
Sun bomb sun –
calm, calm sun –
as they’re running.

Tomorrow: Part 21

A Vocal Local Recalls (lost?) Love

And slow in my mind
All your actions collide
Each memory of moments is laid in place
This one-at-a-time
With no privilege or grace
That takes time to recall each sweet smile of your face

Oh how great
Even how sweet
The waves of time lap clear
How great
Oh how sweet that
In time my memory runs clear

So long ago you seem to be
Fogged in mists in history
Just with time
And a hint or tease
Every part of your lips returns to me

Melodious Odious Ode

So, hold me down while I go singing –
bringing mellow glee and ringing
bells of glory, and of sunshine,
down the dark highway connections
of our fast declining times.

And when you get the hectic juice
injecting my electric roots
you’ll still not halt my dulcet hoots
or quell my derisive champing
at your witty bits of rhyme!

You see…
Tomorrow you’ll be over it
recalling what you soon forgit
dispatching your unhappy breath!

And somewhere, maybe in a ditch
a tune will hover over it
from my dark thought’s I’ll still project
the blue rays – and one day I’ll bet
you’ll join my melody with your sweet tune!

Penfold’s Verse

Take me, hold me
Shake me, wake me
Tell me, Show me
Hold me, squeeze me
Follow me, breathe me

I’ll float away on your words
And I’ll croon with the Kakapo birds
When you’re here I can’t face you
When you go; how I chase you

On our silvery shimmering lake
I know your face reflected
The shiny stars that fly
Are merely others eyes rejected

And then, of course, you go away
You drift out where I fear to reach
I see you go and stand – think –
Then tear off down our beach

Ah November

I see you, poking your crisp nose
round October’s back.
Pushing away at her
just so you can drag us screaming
through your frolics and fireworks –
So soon burnt and forgotten!

Well, how chill will you feel this time
runt November?
Racing maniacally towards us
like you have anything to say.

Only last week I seemed to be swimming
in Augusts hazes and late nights
when suddenly –
November is eating into poor October;
beckoning the willing and the wary
to embrace the winter bullies.

I see you coming this time though.
Oh yes, sneak all you like you fireball of lies.
This year I’m ready and sick or not,
you’ll not put me down this time.

Ah November, just watch you don’t get too lost
in Decembers big promises –
remember amongst all the lies you’ll devise
that as quick as August was
so are you…
After the drag of October
you can but gallop by
all cinders and chills.

Short Song

Skyline beasts which beat
This pretty tune to death
Where loves crawled out the back door
And life’s lived short on meth.’s
How vacant and enticing
A story for the soul

Silent films once flickered
With warm thunder as a crown
When once beauty caretakers
In turns would bear the throne
Would this be dreams of starlets?
Could this be mornings’ due?

One More Song

One tiny verse
sung tight-lipped,
as it all gets worse.

Lost the bounce,
gave spring away –
Time tears at my eyes
and squeezes my day.

Thoughts pound my brain,
old thoughts; so sad
as still I clasp
at lives I’ve had.

Short painful routes
are all I see:
They scream my name
to recapture me.

Still the light dances
just out of my reach
so I follow the shadows
that lead from the beach.