Sun

Dictator of a dead grace
The sun rises in the sky
It was the same that rose when I was but a child
But now my heart is older
My temperature is blue
The heart that felt its sweet rays
Is not the same that once was new

It leaves its grace like scars of clouds
Upon the face of the sky
And it shall outlast everyone of us
While we each must die

Sun, of heaven, shine on
As a chariot of fire
Racing from the east to west
Crusading holy pyre

Beyond the thoughts of a boy
Who knows not his future joy
But stays in the present
Time for him is but a toy

Beyond this the great dictator
Climbs its elision tower
The spires of the heavens
Find him there never ready to cower

All the stark blankness
Come spilling from its face
That candles burn in the deepness
Of the outer space

Mercury

She holds the moon
in a silver cup
She needs no spoon
To stir what she sups

Silver is the honey comb
Of her memory
Of all the bees in a bomb
Exploding in her tree

Silver are the rain drops
Rolling down the steel
Stopping in the silver pool
Of the place she feels

Her name is Mercury
She changes like the ocean
Flows like electricity
Solid metal into liquid emotion

Mercury like a switch
Turning on to off
Letting the current change her body
From hard to soft

Precious as Silver
Conducts like Gold
Mercury in a fever
Changing faces like the moon she holds

Black cat mood

Black cat like a hole in the night
Blacker than pitch
Blacker than jet
Eyes I never will forget

Black cat in the Coal dark
Dusky as dust
In a shadowy park
Black will
Violent and still
Harmless and cold
Beyond the being, the non-being untold
Un-named thing
Anonymous wish
Lay out a milk dish
Out comes the pink tongue
Lapping up like an ocean
Laps the shore with its fish
Fingers

Whose hands are on the moon?

Flying figures in the sky
Racing across the moon
Shining seraphims
Guarding the palace
That once I built from
the cuticles in my finger nails
But now what can these hands do?

If our nails grow with the moon
While we sleep
Even while we die
Our skin reflects the sun
It is shadows and dust
Of interstellar lust
Sun people saving their skins
Everyday
Hanging them out on the washing line
In mutual habitual action
That the Sun dictates
Like our father

The flesh is warmed then it drops
It is blown in the wind
Our eyes are the rain and the oceans
And the weather of emotions
That fill with salty tears
That no matter how many fall
They still dry
In the end
All the while the moon is
Pulling our finger nails out
Into the evening sky

Tear drops for Yesterday, a pasty smells of Summer

I figured you were up with that
The single cream for the cat
The only place I thought I knew
Just a Parker
pen or two
Just a reasonable Policeman's conference
Made up of small faces
In the mugshot gallery
All the toothless wonders of a frightening history
Beamed out under American imperialism
The Chivalry of Donald Trump in the
Space Race
with book ends from Romania
And Nuclear War Heads from Iran
The thought in the head of Spying
From a Russian co-federation
Of Interstellar bar staff

And all those records that lie broken on the moon
The longest long jump
For example
From a standing position
It isn't difficult to win the Olympic medal here
When you are literally in the house of the Gods
But what do I know of the odds?

Yes, Mr Rain man

He is not all I thought he was
There is a certain hole in the head
He gives
Like a stroke
To the weather
The storm clouds fill dark skies
And I am in the hole

A rain doctor came to forecast my health
He gave a dance
Then rewarded himself
By pulling the oceans around the shoulders
Of the land
And comforting the wet sand
Of unknowing universes
Of unkind minds
And the dredge of what
The swallows call spring

He tied a poesy around cider with rosy
And let her be the single
Succulent tree of life

 Because the truth is nobody gives a shit
About the little man
We are the inconsequential stuff of life
That others more powerful
Gauge their own success by
The measure of what it means to be free
By degree
But no-one is truly free
Just the anointed hierarchy
Of a duodenal dawn
That leaves everything tochance
Even the consequences of being born

The juggernauts are coming, oh my gosh!

I should have bought you flowers
But I gave them to another woman
It would be nice to talk for hours
But I prefer a nice soft bossom

If you asked of what am I made
I would say the salt
That drove the slave trade
Because a slave is what I feel I am
To the idea of being a man
I am fed up
With these anachronistic hubris
Of the unplanned
The self entitled being
That loves
Then loses feeling
Quicker than quick sand
And I am falling
I do not deny it into a deep dark hole
Where my future's wishes don't match up
To what will make me whole

But I see it is only excess hubris
That has disillusioned me so far
When I knew really
It was under another use of 'Us'
That they named a falling star

Only the kettle kept boiling over and the river over spilt
The kittens in the bags were no well man's pursuit