Poetry Blog by Wolfgar

Tags from last 12 months

Confronting entropy



“When we get the roof on it’ll block out all the stars”

she said


“When we get the roof on underneath will all be ours”

he said


“When we draw the curtains it’ll block out all the light”

she said


“When we draw the curtains we’ll illuminate the night”

he said


“When I’ve given you our children will your love for me live on?”


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The Origin of a Sub-Species



Henry Miller knew nothing of trans-species congress

he exclaimed it shockingly none the less,


though mostly in exasperation,

his next spoke words gave congratulation.


Then later on some latitude 

he penned his rhyme so wilful crude,


his riddle spiked thoughts across the globe,

like “Why’d the chicken cross the road?”


and ...

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A Juggernaut requires Bureaucracy



Monstrosities love little men

the hen pecked type

good with a pen


For measuring and counting stuff

that’s good or bad

or not quite good enough


To cross the t’s and turn blind eyes

to adjust their books

and snopake lies


That look good in well cut uniform

who can recite an oath

and be reborn


Who’ll save them br...

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Two poems from the forgotten generations (Reposts, the audio is pertinent)



What beauty comes of war


What beauty comes of war

from all that’s black as blood

from damaged mind and broken bone


What beauty comes of war


What beauty comes of ugliness

from torment trapped in blinding light

from silver landscapes blasted white


What beauty comes of war


Yet how rememb...

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Night Sailing



Chopin is slowly stitching the night around me

he’s weaving the darkness to shutter my room,

As my eyes surrender to his Nocturne Moon.


The universe expands behind the veil of light,

in here the world breathes freely as only dead men might,

Without resistant fear, released into second sight.


Where Symphonies crescendos crash the stars as...

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Watching from stage left



Look how your fingers fall upon the keys

like snow or autumn leaves,


I feel them twine around my heart

in soft caress the music starts,


and with creation comes the song

each year a verse four seasons long.


I cannot find the words to say

what moves in me to hear you play,


nor fathom how you calmed the rage

that kept me...

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Under the pier at Brighton



Under the pier at Brighton charcoal stumps infuse the Sea, 

a reminder, 

like tattoos that you burned into me.


And on four knuckles there is hate the other hand is love,

a warning,

though the punch came late un-cushioned by a glove.  


Then on your oft turned cheek the scar,

a betrayal,

a mirrored memory wherever you are.



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Oh what a thrill to be The Krill

so mindless in the Sea,

consuming micro-plastics

abounding endlessly.


Millenniums of swell and surf

have left them much unchanged,

but tiny things do have some worth

as civilisations change.


Oh what a thrill to be A Krill

digesting human waste,

recycling nano-plastics

our palates just can’t...

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Night Sweats



Tusk tips dripping oil

hammer on a chalky skull looking for a dream.


Coiling trunks baffle down a spine,

piling teak timber at the edge of breathless cities.


There’s an empty moat with a spiralled sinkhole,

a devils giant mouth beneath exhales human bones.


A snail in a plastic bottle curls to its own extinction,

closing from the...

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The garden is cool now

the Sun’s rewound her cancer gun,


her rays live in the bladed green

my toes are splashed with whiskey,

the day already sunk, unseen


a cool breeze licks my face

I fumble through my dead bookcase,


each fingered tome their words devoured,

as thunder reigns before the showers.


I won’t sleep, the nig...

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Nursery Rhyme Bestiality



Tiny Jean Paul Careaux

lived in the vineyards of Bordeaux

he dreamed of growing tall and strong

and being somewhere he belonged


But mother was an evil witch

the grapes she grew made Jean Paul itch

and Père was wicked through and through

a Landlord who just blew and blew


then one day all the Piggies rose

the cloven hoof came see...

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Under Sail



Under my sail and under their sky

the silver backed Dolphins defiantly fly.


I've cast off my shackles I'm gravity free

I've stepped from the edge that imbalanced me. 


I can't see the land that tethered my soul

that bore me up-right then swallowed me whole.


Out here on my Ocean I skate on it's surf

feeling finely attuned and equa...

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A garden of clouds



He had already left his hallowed ground

five storeys up yet graveyard bound,


he made a garden of the clouds

enveloped there in silken shrouds.


As life with grace raised from his shell,

he smiled to me, farewell, farewell.  

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A million more did start



I wish I could walk a mile on my twisted wasted legs,

but they are on a cratered path

somewhere else instead.


I wish I could speak a truth with my mangled severed tongue,

but it festers in a blood soaked pit

where silence was begun.


I wish I could show you vision through my blinded plucked out eyes,

but they were stamped on with deri...

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On hearing news of murder

The way the street light fills the dark is nothing but a lie,

the night is there as real as day, a trick upon the eye.

The way the body lies bereft still warm and supple yet,

stiffening slowly somethings left that someone won't forget.


A heart still glad and beating strong is soon to cruelly break,

that to another did belong that shared the lovers ache.  

New Sun will chase ...

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Ravi Shankar stopped me wanking




Ravi Shankar stopped me wanking

he ceased my endless monkey spanking,

he soothed my lust with his Sitar

my ears pricked up to sounds from far.


My Mothers happiness complete

my DNA saved from the sheets,

though father he was less than pleased

saw other cultures as disease.


And then through music back came lust

total immersi...

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The management of savagery



There seems nothing more civilised than the management of savagery,

remote and air conditioned.

Once separated from its delivery by sail boats and oceans,

by wax seals and emissaries.


Now only satellites and microwaves disperse the shock waves.

COBRA delegates are traumatised in real time as targets fall,

their lattes cool as does their bloo...

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Gently in the forest



Gently in the forest truths unfurl,

petals channel raindrops

fallen far above this world


Gently through the forest

we’ll venture you and I,

beneath the sheltered canopy

above the watchful sky,


Gently in the clearing

we’ll take some time to stare,

to pick a million starlights

and ponder what’s up there.


Gently on the ...

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Beyond the mirror




Pretence shows through her thin veneer

beneath its shallows, swirling fear. 


Within the frightened words she weaves

her lonely heart itself deceives,


then from the mirrored-pool replies

“I am the fairest in their eyes”  


and some not knowing what they see

accept her fine faux dignity,


so there she stays by mirrors f...

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In Carlton Gardens




The bench is warm, un-sat-upon,

without a view, 

shaded almost purposely

through fifty years by Oak and Yew.


High windows, empty eyed

glower through the leaves,

how many trembling hearts they spied?

frail saplings once, now stoic trees.


Yet further out are Statues

their face's turned away,

that once did take up reside...

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Ivanovka (thoughts on Sergei Rachmaninoff)




Chords struck like bells,

within the straddle of a hand,

Ivanovka rang out to the stolen land.


Through Summers and peasant days

before The Great Silence,

the artist plays.


Though men without music crushed the soul

the melody remained,

and through decades of winters the refra...

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A cleansing by fire



The first mouthful turns me inside out,

my soul screams down a tunnel of memories.


The slap, the fist, the spittle in my eyes

the sound of my mothers whimpering cries.


A key in the door, the stairwells echo

panicked faces in torch-light.


The desert with impact craters like a scarred brain,

sack cloth floating in the hot seared a...

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Mickey Cupples

It was a rain soaked afternoon in the 80’s

me and a bunch of disgruntled grunts got bored


We lifted a bomb maker called Mickey Cupples

he was a gimp who’d blown himself up once too often


We just wanted to get out of the Belfast rain

an afternoon at the search cell in Long Kesh was always a good option


I sat with Mickey in the back of the pig I just stared at him fo...

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Burning in and burning out

entry picture



A shard of light rifled through infinity to embrace a petalled bulb,

across echoless voids enough to tempt The Christ.


Waterless and unbound by pathways yet still it arrowed straight,

no curtained silence, no hiding place, with a single radiant intent.


And then dispersed it scattered to a million points of purpose,

toward Corners, Deserts ...

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Gone from me and you



My face abrasive against your skin

your thighs caress my fears,

you open up to let me in

but all I taste is tears.


All words dissolve but from this place,

this cradle which remains,

our love no longer full of grace

Its remnants merely stains.


So we must part away from this,

from things no longer true,

for all that once spoke...

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Oblivioni traditæ



With your cranium subterranean

you lay beneath the sod,

your withered flesh devoured

your soul at last with god.


The stone stands In memoriam

as weeds push through the cracks,

every year a flourish more of them

the fruit of you perhaps?


The epitaph as cold as stone

mere dates that mark your days,

a life lived out lies here u...

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Should we talk of those who we know not,

should we presume to know their hearts?

to measure all by our own lot,

is that not where division starts?


Could we not find some other tongue,

not forked or held or shackled dumb?

one true enough that all might hear

above the Babel-buzz of fear.

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Toward the Bliss



And when I opened my eyes at last

when the fear had subsided

and my throat let me breathe


I saw your face and heard Angels Sing

God told me that I was God

and he was just a voice in my wilderness


He took my hand

and we walked into the Sun

and everything I knew just fell away


Toward the Bliss



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Ride On




Crouching on street corners

moving in shadows,

living in towers, crawling through ditches.


petrol bombs






Hated by Rebels

hated by Loyalists,

defending rebels

defending loyalists,


The Green and Gold,


The Red White and Blue,

it's just colourless ...

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The Librarian



He sniffed at Miles Davis in his Pompous English way

but doffed his treasured cap to the tunes of Sid Bechet,

who himself was not a stranger to the pulling of a trigger,

though to one as mean as he was he'd have been a lowly “Nigger”


From High windows he could survey other lesser forms of life,

those toads and grubby proles mired in their strif...

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She traced her poem on my skin

so when I breathe I breathe her in,

each touch a treasured silken word

too gentle to be overheard.


Upon my heart she wrote her book

on which no others eyes may look,

so now my life's love story told

the pages close no more to fold.



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The empty chair

The empty chair is unimpressed

its vacant care bereft, un-blessed,

with threadbare arms and scuffed footrest

in lonely sitting room, undressed.


It squats in rays of slatted light

unknowing of the day or night,

no to and fro of padding feet

it's just a chair, so incomplete.


The chair is nothing now he's gone

just something he once sat upon,

where soon there'l...

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A Lark ascending (thoughts on Vaughan Williams)


And the lark ascends under heavy skies

in ashen blood she freely flies


She twists and turns to flee the field

the Sun alone will see her yield


Like spirits called beyond the death

the Lark borne home upon their breath


Vaughan Williams began writing “The Lark Ascending” prior to his departure to France in WW1, it was only completed upon his return at which time...

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A doorway in a northern town



It took four men with ropes well oiled

to pull him screaming from his fate,

his boots and mouth and trousers soiled

a mind pulled from the edge, too late.


The faeries silver winged did dance

to see him tumble, weave and coil,

and now he views the world askance

with all his future hopes in spoil.



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Everything but shoes,

no-one walked with you,

a photograph, a jar of shells,

nothing borrowed, something blue.

A yellow stained certificate

on which no fathers name is penned,

a bastard from the very start

as you arrived so you did end.

The residue of chaos

stored neatly out of view,

I open it just now and then

when I can't remember you.

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Everything but shoes

no-one walked with you,

a photograph, a jar of shells,

nothing borrowed, something blue.

A yellow stained certificate

on which no fathers name is penned,

a bastard from the very start

as you arrived so you did end.

The residue of chaos

stored neatly out of view,

I open it just now and then

when I cant remember you.

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The Waves that Break



An ice cliff wafer slips to the sea

it cracks with hellish thunder,

like natures dementia, knowledge melting away,

sliding ever under,


it flows to an ocean of forgotten things,

things unlearned, things unheeded,

receding before our human advance,  

yielding to us that which is needed.


While Adamah is Gaia's and ever shall be,


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Sentenced to Peace (notes on Don McCullin)

Passing through six rooms of a life

in the aperture of his minds eye.

From Finsbury Park to Palmyra,

in this final space he speaks to me.


Grotesque gargoyles broken against rocks,

an empty child on the withered breast.

Poverty in Black and White,

a gloating victor defiles a corpse.


In this end room landscapes open out,

trees reach to darkened skies where the su...

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Gods bless us all

When Gods rise people fall,

so bless us all

Gods bless us all.


We carved Jerusalem from golden stone

to cover its glory with a blinkered dome,

once from The Mount we could see the stars,

once all the stars were all of ours.


We cut the forest to build a church,

we carved a tree to make a cross.

What have we gained but something lost,

its men not Gods that pay...

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Sad holiday



We went fishing my boy and me,

Sea fishing

it was our holiday, he was excited

and I was sad.

Sad only for myself in a selfish destructive way.

We shared a tiny room 

Seagulls nested on the rooftops,

I cried in my narrow little bed when he fell asleep.

I went to the bar and drank 

because I was weak and selfish and broken.


In the ...

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Jean's hands

entry picture



Eight fingers interlocking

rest untrembling on Jean's cold knees,

blackened in Whitechapel grime

steadied only by each other.

Torn and bloodied claw,

once pink and curled in beautiful birth

once reaching and clutching,

no hope to cling to now.

She folds them to her face 

tears trace lines that pool in scars,

hand's which once pick...

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Knife crime with a flourish

Stick it in, twist it round, pull it out

the red faced Sergeant Majors shout,

those black boys make such good recruits

just teach them drill and give them boots.


This country has a wealth men

devoid of hope unknowing zen,

so fix the blade and set them off

a torn off rag for the Molotov.


Bayonets glinting in the schools,

to not be used we’d look like fools.


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The exquisite beauty of your pain keeps me awake,

each line on your face

bought and paid for,

worked for,

snorted and imported.

Gone now, your clothes are strewn about.

Your dresser smeared with spittle,

shoes have parted company, have stepped away.

The bed bugs miss your taste,

An unimpressed pillow lies forlorn. 

I touch where once we laid, stalactite tears hang...

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A Farnham Prayer



On being turned away from a place of worship


Passed the playing children

on through the garden gate,

in haste toward the altar

to pray it's not too late.


But pew on pew is filled with souls

already in Salvation, 

I hear the call to other world's

some other congregation.

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The Empath



The Empath took the path of least resistance,

the tilted head, hand held insistence.


The Princess Di of all things forgiving,

a Mother Teresa for the miserably living,


“I know your pain” she’d caringly intone

as gracefully she glided home.


In interviews and Q & A’s

the impassioned confession, her “Worst of Days”


and then...

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How many Monks did the Chinese get?



How many Marks for a loaf of bread?

the pre-putsch civilised citizens said


Then later with the ovens stoked up strong

they vapourised outcast’s who didn’t belong


See how one thing leads to the next

how a printing press expands to a text


How a fake news crisis leads to war

how a woman of dignity bends to a whore


How an emp...

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The perfect vacuum



He wrote because he didn’t want to talk,

he didn’t want to talk because no-one listened,

no-one listened because they were busy talking.


He read because he didn’t want to listen,

he didn’t want to listen because no one ever read,

no-one read because they all knew everything.


So he buried himself in solitude

so no-one ever knew.


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Continental drift

Now closer than in recent years

separation is measured by sunlight and moon,

by sleeping and waking,

by cell phone roaming charges.


You live on the edge of Empires

divided by perfumed Seas, Minarets and Steeples.

I exist like a refugee in my crumbling Kingdom, 

yet still it fortifies my heart.


Once when we were worlds apart

when love still served a purpose,


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The Voyage of Sleep


This bed my nightly raft to sail a thousand seas

descending into darkness the davit lowers me,

cast and swept, ripped and hauled beneath the waking world,

through silver blue translucent light some other plane unfurls.

Mirrored scales reflecting cool peaks of milky foam 

my cells mitosis multiply renewing then regrown,

from the healing of a timeless womb cocooned in vacant...

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The skyline spattered by air bursting shells, 

canvas of grey, the birds have flown free.

The Belfry relieved of its heavenly Bells,

the crucifix splintered to saviourless tree.   


Rats eat bootlaces through to the bone

then we eat the rats and so eat our own.

God has deserted what we now defend

but the Devil is stoic, the Devil's a frien...

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