roots

Roots of this city

This is the tree

The plants are the people

They settle they join 

Spread their fingers to the water

Feel the river

Some are born here by

Rights to die

Some have lived

Such separate lives

But their roots are set down

Like stones writ in blood

Deep in the heart of the ground

Where they tread

While acacia trees tower

Like the panel buildings above

And bees beside garden fences

Drone and buzz

My heart is in the river

The peace keeper of love

It sings all the sweeter 

For chestnut leaves above

That drop brown to the nutty ground

And crinkle when crushed

Like foot on a crown

wrought

Not everything we write is wrought
Not everything we find is sought
And not all that we buy is bought
Though the gold be sold for

And in Each one is side or slaught
The better which we might be taught
The sons or daughters of the naught
Who fossilize the cradle

Don't write me no more letters now
I have no eyes to read them
Don't send me flowers in a bough
I have no heart to feel them

And if my skin should fail me now
If my bones should break beneath
The onslaught of the waves of fate
I trust in you my teeth

panels impression

I wake up in the morning
Panel buildings in my head
Concrete cliffs surround me
Down the beach street
Where the bus sped

And this street is a river
The people like fish fled
Fleet finned like a sparrow
On each corner
An acacia tree bled
Like sea weed
Crying for Hungary
In the waves
The starved of starling streets
The pigeon happy
Pecking crumbs at your feet
The holding on to church
Of the bum
Asleep in the grave yard
With his trousers round his ankles

And the endless streets
Warmth of the bus
The friendly atmosphere
Of two woman chatting while
Looking down at her baby
In the pram
Eyes of love

Poem Hunter

I've been looking for a poem
I've been searching the sea
I've been dragging the river for days
But there just doesn't seem one there to be

Maybe next week
I'll stubble upon one
Hidden under a peeble
On the shore
Maybe it will round face me
Maybe I'll skim it and see

If it skips,
If it flies
And if that poems
A true one
The feelings will magnetize
The lyrics
Will roll like a coaster
Their pendulum rhythm
Hypnotize

Or else it will drop
Like a stone in the water
And sink into the sludge
To be buried in the silt

Of Lizards and Lights

I didn't follow you on that parade
The flight of the libertines
I must admit I was too afraid
Too afraid of what might have been

I was gone in all sorts of ways
Before you
Before you or I
Had stepped out the door

I was in light
I was in shade
And I didn't want
Those changes anymore

I'm like a chameleon
Who changes his skin
To fit into the environment
He is in
And the Autumn here is changing its hue
So I can turn too
Out of blue
Into a shade of orange

You in your groves
So Olive
You in the grooves
of your skin
You in the cracks in the pavement
In the paper bark that's wearing thin

Throw your clothes in the fire
Salamander be born again
My twin
We should have been brother and sister
But in the war
We know neither one of us can win

The oak grows bare on the hillside
The Cypress trees blow in the wind
The candles flicker on the window's ledge
As I pledge this poem
a Hymn

Mars Day

Out  here on Mars
It's hard to make a living
All the culture Vultures
Are busy with their killing

Out here on Mars
They talk backwards too
In fact I told them I liked animals
And they locked my soul in a zoo

Its hot though and I like it
Strange it is to say
Like autumn hasn't touched us
We're sliding down the Milkyway

And I work with a lot of Martians
They are always building bricks and bombs
They say they're building an army
To take over Earth
Well its seems barmy
Hardly worth it
To me

You know the parade is on
The Carnival is tuning up
We have to March this way til Christmas
In case the Russians turn up
And if they do
We'll take their flag
And burn it up

It's hard you know, the burning
The atmosphere's so thin
They really don't get the joke at all
Its lucky they're all thick skinned

I keep my bell jar helmet on
All the Martian day long
I can't understand
What they say to me
The wires got crossed
Its all wrong

Death Cafe

What was Death like in school?
Was he a Goth, or a rebel or a sloth
Was he a lone ranger
Was death a she, a difficult person
tipping the cloth
Did anyone tell Death not to talk to strangers?
Did anyone try to make friends with death, try
To sit down in a cafe and just shoot the wind
Did anyone ever really get under death's skin?
What were death's parents like?
Night and Chaos
Now that must have been an awkward family set up
Perhaps at home they got on like a house on fire
But honestly I doubt it

Perhaps Death was prone to running away
He did not like his father's terrible rages
And sometimes when his mother entered his room
Like a wraith, he thought hang on
Someone's turned the pages
Put me back in the plot for a spot
I'm lost like a ghost in science fiction movie
I'm out of this world
Yet tied down by its chains
Things can be strange surely they can be rearranged
I guess, I'm only guessing though

Perhaps he was very well behaved in school
Not the one slouching over his desk
Perhaps he was first class
A high flyer
The person everyone just loved to hate
Or thought would do terribly well at his job
And imagine this you death snobs
Death must know virtually everything
There's not a corner of this world he hasn't
Globe trotted to
Neither is there an inch of our Psyche
He hasn't gained access to
He has a VIP card for most Venues
After all he's very well connected
He has a large extended family

Psyche in fact is a cousin of his
Quite often they have been enemies
Another mother, and an aunt per chance
He spends his summer holidays with
While Night is too busy in Arctic Norway
To look after him
Is Dementia
She can be a bit of a pain
Always forgetting his birthdays
Death days - she jokingly calls them
Sometime she even slips into a rage
You can't control her like a banshee world wind
Sometimes she's like a child playing with
Pomegranite seeds
Slipping them in and out her mouth
Not sure whether to eat them
But all this was decided long before her
By her mother -Mother Nature -The Four Seasons

And so Death goes out and trudges through the snow
Leaving no footprints anyone would know
- he's carbon neutral
And Politically inert
Though as a teenager he'd wave a banner of protest
Get under the shirt of Chaos his father
Who is busy causing merry hell in Parliament
Losing elections, rigging votes
Generally carpet bagging, gerrymandering
Pandering to the electorate
And making unwanted approaches to Elektra
his intern for the season

Death would come back from these marches
Down in the mouth, in need of a coffee
Or something stronger
And so he would lurch into a cafe
To fall in conversation with strangers
Just to talk about the word on everyone's lips, but his
(because he had none)
Him
That is one of his faults
He loves talking about himself too much
And so does everybody else
But they won't admit it to eachother
No neither themselves
Most of the time
Apart from on their own (or perhaps with their mother)
Because in crowds they talk about Life
'Being Alive' his son
'Lively' and Live-Wire the successful daughters
Vibrant, Life's wife
then Thriving and Full of Life
Really they are quite a smug family thought death to himself
But then he had Sex
And Sex and Death got married
Night and Chaos were so happy
And their first child Violence
well, he was a bit of a disaster,
No sorry Disaster was the second child
Then there came Calamity Jane
Doubt and Betrayal
And they had a whale of a time
It is a shame thought Death that this all had to End
But in Ending there is a Beginning
That is the cycle of Birth and Death
Birth, I suppose, being their unwanted twin
Who was adopted by the Life family
And went on to have many children of her own (thankfully)
Still Death likes to talk now and then in cafes
Sometimes in more private places
And you have to give him space
To have his say
You have to invite this guest to your table
Because he's there anyway in the background
And you'll have to make friends with him
one day
Perhaps not today though
Hey?