I met the darkest queen of deceivers

when I had fooled myself into drinking with you

sidewinding as you did into my privacy

like a desert rattler breaking its sand cover to claim a victim

sly and slippery

and now that my awareness has been fully illuminated

all that I curse myself for

of both love worst and love wanting 

stand arm in arm tweedle dee and tweedledum posers

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my eyes would widen

as never before

feeling these newborn inspirations

rising from heart to mind

helping it to spiritually and metaphorically

take to the air

no longer held down by

uninspirational gravity

but flying

powered by the energizing harmonies

that are to be found

in so many places of this barely discovered world

almost lifting me to a height known only

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WHEN IT COMES

TO WRITING POETRY

WHAT IS IT

THAT BRINGS ALL OF US

HERE TODAY?

IT IS THOSE PRICELESS MOMENTS

OF INSPIRATION

THROUGH WHICH WE ALL PASS

THAT I HOPE WILL

ALWAYS

ALWAYS

ALWAYS

REMAIN UNSULLIED

I THINK THAT 

EVERY POETIC ACT

IS AN ACT OF 

PSYCHOLOGICAL OPENNESS

THAT INVITES UNDERSTANDING

FROM THOSE

WITH A SENSITIVITY

T...

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after so many years emptied of you

even our heart enclosed arrowed initials

carved in a tree 

have begun to darken and fade with age

but I can still feel the letters 

that have been carved upon my heart

and there they will stay

preserved for all pleasurable

and oft painful time

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For far too long

I have been unable to see

beyond the darkness of my heart to where

I know

the truth of my spirit

and the enlightening gifts of my soul

are waiting for me

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at the last stop we step off the bus of life

our tickets turn to dust

disappears does our luggage of suffering and strife

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Where the cart piled with sacks

shirehorse pulled

its bit held onto by the dark dust faced coalman

used to to rumble down

those cobbled streets

were hives of neighbourly activity

for my grandmother tells me

that those face to face crumbling house doors

( demolition doomed )

were in her time always open to one and all

until some of those houses

became...

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sprawling city daily noises

are a kind of music

collectives of awkward sounding orchestrations

their disorganised themes

mingling becoming one long 

out of tune-tune

extending upwards

that I listen to with my eyes

and see through that audible clamour

that non-mellifluous racket

one unwanted polluting masterpiece

after another 

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HOPE

**********************

HOPE IS MY ONLY OPTION

IN THIS FUCKED UP WORLD

BUT IT IS IMMEASURABLE

AND WHETHER IT DRAGS ITS FEET OR NOT

I'LL DIE FOR ITS COMPANIONSHIP!

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