Poetry

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Larry of the Levels

Lazarus and the silver spy of the Levels

            The travellers’ tale began when The Voice of The Wind said to Eliza the forces of Stink the Mink will be wiped out when the ring of roses has been brought to the floor of reeds. Eliza Wood was a blind spider who webbed prophetic messages across tow paths, gate ways in hedgerows etc where they would be seen, by interested animals. Business had been going fairly well for Eliza for the past few hundred years but unfortunately he did not see the arrival of the mink coming. The general way of things he believed was that God had made the levels to be paradise and it would continue that way with the odd hiccough for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately the minks introduction proved a bit more than a hiccough in fact it left a very bad taste in the mouth and made a mess of all his prophesies. It used to be his signs read things like 'rejoice for a new dawn is come', and 'consider the Lilly isn't it pretty', then it turned to 'try and be an optimist', 'look on the bright side its not so bad'. In recent years his signs had read more 'the end is nigh', and 'repent your sins you are basically doomed'. His Friend the shield bug, Ralph Bernstein, tried to cheer him up saying its not that bad and at least you aren't an enslaved Rabbit. One day Ralph decided that something had to be done to help the levels and so crawled up to Eliza in his web and said Look Eliza you have to find a prophecy that actually works I can't stand to see you just mopping around like this. Eliza thought for a bit then climbed to the top most quarter of a nearby Scots Pine...and he listened to the wind. It told him there was a golden egg that held the secret of the levels its salvation from the Mink Dominion by Stink. There is a bed of Roses over near Godney at a Garden Centre. And In the Garden centre there is a sad eyed seamstress and she works all day and all night to make Rings of Roses. Unfortunately she doesn't sell many and so is very poor but in amongst the pile of dying rose rings which have been discarded is one magic ring that will not fade or die even unto the end of all time. If this one ring of roses can be brought to the golden egg then a new dawn will reign over the levels one of freedom for all animals except the mink, and will see the end of the cruel King Stink for ever. When Eliza had heard this he climbed down and told his friend Ralph who said - there you go now don't you feel much better now?

Lazarus McDonald had been chosen for this quest by Ralph, acting as a kind of casting director for Eliza Wood. Lazarus was an otter of some promise but had been frittering away his talents for fishing and hunting, by playing gleefully away down rivers and rills at the foot of the Mendips. He had made his living in the past through a number of outrageous schemes. One for instance was working as a bandit -for- hire by making raids on battery hen farms with a few wayward foxes. Another time he spent months lazing about near a fishery finding it a most easy way of life as the fish were practically willing to give themselves up to him. Though all this laziness had bored him and he had become increasingly over weight by his life style so it was a surprise when a tiny but self possessed Shield bug with the self confidence of a Lord of the Manor sidled up to him and recruited him.
Lazarus was standing behind a fence of a garden centre peering into the ring of roses production centre with his comrade Hubert Cherrybatten. Lazarus now upon seeing the stinking pile of dead roses was regretting his decision to join up. But the truth was that all the community of otters on the levels thought him a wastrel and wanted him out of their sight so it was his only option really to join a war party.
In front of him now was what seemed to be an enormous pile of rotting roses. In fact that was exactly what it was. The smell was really awful and there were a lot of flies buzzing around who had evidently laid eggs there. "But why do I have to go in there?" Because, the Brown owl, Hubert Cherrybatten said, you are the chosen one.
” Well it did not say anything about rummaging through rotting compost in the job description.” He protested.
“Stop being such a big girl’s blouse Lazarus McDonald and get in there.” There was something in the serious and stern way the owl pronounced his name that made Lazarus or Lazy Laz to his friends, feel compelled to jump in.
Sarah Sutton, who had made the rose ring, was sitting a way back previously with her back to them but with the scuffling sounds now turned and watched interestedly while an owl squawked at an otter who then proceeded to jump in her compost pile. Stranger things had been known to happen in the Garden Centre it was true, like the time a porthole to another universe opened up and Miss Sutton journeyed instantaneously to the prehistoric town of Clacton on sea bought a shell fish then returned, that had been about four months ago and it didn't involve an owl and an otter on speaking terms. Suddenly she saw the otter emerging black and slimy but with what appeared to be an intact ring of her roses. As unbelievable as this actually sounded the otter then ran off followed by the owl.
            So then the quest to travel across Meare began in earnest. The pair were soon joined by other animals the shield bug had recruited and they all met at the bottom of the lane of a place called Kirlegate and walked beside the gate. There was Samson Matravers the badger, who a fairly dark and difficult to fathom creature. There was Eliza Wood, the prophetic spider, a family of rabbits -Michael and Nancy Robertson and their boys Tony and Ned. A field mouse was there also by the name of Teddy Murdoch.
            To begin with they looked out across the estate of Kirlegate and pondered how to get to the Shapwick heath levels. This was a dark and foreboding place as they stared into its blackness a shiver of instinct which made them very fearful passed through them all. Their wild side kept the animals away from built up areas and so all of them felt a natural mistrust of their surroundings now.
            Lazarus was standing looking at his friends. This was the peoples state of Meare - it was a treacherous road and held many dangers. It was filled with people the good and the bad and had a criminal fraternity who ran a racket and were in with the peat barons, they cared not for the levels wildlife they wanted the mink to prosper because they kept the curious types from snooping in on their dealings and dodgy businesses.
Of the good there were some who stood up for the rights of the wild life but these were a precious few and their will to fight was crushed by the continual progress of the peat barons - unstoppable it seemed under law.

            Their enemy were the Mink and their leader King Stink the Mink. His tribe haunts the levels and besets its population with terror and destruction. The mink had already covered much of the levels, and had bred and bred. They were also greedy for wealth and power and had dug up much of the peat in order to sell it off to the people who lived nearby. The levels had practically become a city built of peat and filled with mink. In the middle of all this was Stink’s castle which stood set out alone in the bogs and lakes. It was an impregnable fortress built of peat, reeds and bird feathers all stuck together with fishy glue.
            The mink in their desire to conquer the levels had eaten many of the birds and wiped out many types of wild life. They had cut down trees fouled the landscape killed off small shrubs and flowering plants that animals like deer eat and enslaved the rabbits of the area in their peat works using them as digging labourers. All in all if a species of animal had not been enslaved by Stink and his mink then they had fled the area in fear of their lives, nothing much of beauty was now left of this once picturesque landscape, they had even poisoned the water to almost all except themselves and their dietary requirement -the fish. 

           
            The animals stood poised - a sound could alert the men folk who were wary of wild animals and kept pets of Doberman dogs and tabby cats to ward against their intrusion. The cats ate the wild birds and prowled the streets of Meare and were known to the animal travellers all around as the dreaded Meare Cats. Their strong hold was Meare Manor where they breakfasted, luncheoned and dined in great style and often invited their raucous cousins the Mink to come off the levels to join them, headed at the table by Stink the Mink. The head of the Meare cats was a cat called Moses, a mean spirited gypsy like cat who had two sons one Morris and the other Tobias.

Sometime later...Somewhere near the northern face of the isle of Meare.

Beckoning in the distance of a long forgotten pose
The brown owl scowls morosely at the rose.
By any other name it would but smell so sweet
And the name of this one went by
Was St Mary's Street
The cock eyed cockerel crew
Again
Yearning for his winter Hen
And above the church tower the weather vein
Wheeled and squealed in a mild sunny breeze

The village was drowsing as men cut lawns
The sound of drilling rang out
While mothers hung laundry out doors
It was a good day for washing
And the shabby tabby cat lazed
Sprawled out on
The tar pitch roof of the granny annex
Warming itself in the rays

Lazarus observed this scene here
With the cool serenity
Of one who knows his destiny is to travel across
The Great Plains and estates of Meare
And far from loathing the prospect of danger
Coming from many quarters
He courts it like a suitor to the otter king’s pearly daughters
Starlings chattered in ever amassing flocks
As the animal troops look to the West
Of the eastern Glastonbury Blocks
The Tor faced back at them the sun its
Glimmering halo
And stretching between vast plains of country side
Thick with streams of alder and willow
And next to these Lazarus spied
The dark moors of Shapwick heath
Now shrouded in shadow
As if beset by some dark ineffable force
Yet this must be their final goal.
"Long will be our journey guarded the owl Hubert Cherrybatten
And many our foe,
The road will be dark
And every day the enemy grows
But end in sight there will be
Even when times seem darkest,
Even then the floor of reeds (Rush) will call
The Ring of Roses to it."

As he stared across the levels which once were his home, a monologue began in his mind and he was lost in remembering more innocent times, before the rise of the mink:

The Reeds which mark the water's edge
Do stay to unburden my night
In them I have all hope of day
And think my future bright
They are the Natural statute
Upon which are written Nature's Laws

And they mark the edge of an otter's emotions
How he conquers all his fears
My heart is proud
Will see me through dark night
I will not stoop to fear
Though I feel close to tears
That nature has absorbed from me
She will not let it near

The mighty oak stands in the bog
Myrtle sweetly smelling sways
Pigeons flock across the corn
On long hot summer days

The sun pours down its virgin rays
Upon this holy ground
The earth its hold
As natures song sings on and on
In this place which has my mould

The midnight swans move on the lake
The drake's song is clear
The twilight to the heaven turns
A wheel on celestial sphere

Ladders turn into the sky
Where silhouettes of silence roll
Into passing cloud shadows
As into Nature's folds I fall
As if carried by spiralling sparrows

The animal troops led by Lazarus chose to travel through the gardens of Meare, as the lamp lit pavements were too obvious a route and the Meare cats would spot them, at least, that was the plan.
            Lazarus crawled up to the fence and looked over a black current bush into the garden. Then they snuck in. A light was on in the kitchen as old Ann the retired teacher was pottering around, she had yet to let Tobias the fearful nine- paw high cat back in so he was somewhere around. A crow came down from above in the frozen sky but Mr Matravers threw a piece of shingle and knocked it down. Then as if as a swarm more crows began dive bombing the animals and Lazarus lead them all into the safety of a potting tunnel. The crows flew off and the animals exited the garden onto the pavement.
            There was an amber glow to the estate, the tarmac road and drives seemed to suck the sound out of all living things added to this the layer of ice frosted curb edges and chilled the feet of the animals. The rabbits were shivering in the semi circle that they all made around Lazarus awaiting his command. "We must make it across the estate - the other side is Down's orchard and beyond the farmers' fields until we reach Shapwick heath."
“But what of Tobias and Moses asked a timid rabbit at the rear
We shall have to face them when our time comes.”
“And what of King Stink and his hoards? How can we hope to fight him after marching across those fields day and night we shall all be exhausted?” -Asked Nancy -Michael Rabbits wife.
There will be time enough for rest once we have passed our immediate obstacle - said Owl and that is the Meare estates and its Meare Cats.
Yes these are no mindless rabble of buffooning stoats and weasels we will be facing. Said Mr Matravers they are a highly organised collective of vicious Pets and their owners are all members of Neighbour hood watch. Even now their spies may be watching us.
Well that leaves nothing for it said Lazarus than to start right away the sooner we get moving the safer we will be.
Yes indeed Mr Otter I second that, we shall be much better in our spirits once we have passed out of this dark and gloomy cul-de-sac. - said Michael Rabbit.
At this the smaller rabbits started to giggle at the look Nancy Rabbit was giving her husband - as if to say one of these days father - you will have pushed this family too far. Even though after this, they all knew that she would forgive them and that to keep moving would be for the best.
           
            The animals began moving off in the direction of the opening of the Main Meare to Glastonbury road and felt their way along the edges of the plank board fencing that lined the pavements and meant a barrier between them and what ever lurked in the gardens beyond. Even though, Michael rabbit still felt a slight uneasiness and an itching began in his nose as they moved further and further into the unmarked territory of Kirlegate. And almost imperceptibly as he was feeling this and Lazarus too by this time, a fine mist began to descend on the troop. Before they knew it the entire road had become a blur -the other side now seemed a million miles away as a swirling fog enveloped them. Try as they might they could not walk without stumbling and then stumbling lead to falling and disorientated they came to a stop. Looking around Lazarus saw that one road seemed to lead to another and the whole appeared to him as a maze.
All we have to do said Mr Matravers is to follow the fence line surely. And yet it was not as simple as there appeared to be any number of nooks and crannies false ways and cul-de-sacs leading to who knew where. Oh we should never have come this way muttered the field mouse. Only a lion would have attempted walking through this terrain and at dusk too. Nothing much remains of our path; I can hardly see the tail in front of me let alone be sure of my or his footing. 
The owl gave a twit-woo at this and flew up into the circling fog out of sight in a minute he had returned to say that the fog was thick and was covering most of the levels but a bank of clear air could be seen on the road - if only they could get to this.
Lazarus commanded: We will go forward I will be at the front and Michael Rabbit you bring up the Rear. With this they moved on...

Moses had been settled in one of the big luxurious armchairs at Meare Manor. A roaring fire and his owners rich brand of pedigree cat food had lulled him into a sleep in which he was coughing and spluttering in a dream. In it He was Stink the Minks butler and personal maid and had been charged with scrubbing him down in a bath. No matter how hard he scrubbed the Stinky mink just would not lose hid foul odour. Moses feeling he was losing his master affections rapidly kept pouring more and more suds into the bath to make it better but this resulted in the whole room filling with soapy bubbles. Eventually the whole wing and then whole of Meare Manor was filled to the brim with bubbles and Moses was in a raving panic being carried away down out onto the street and into the Brue in a sea of soapy foam! He awoke to his own voice screaming -no more Bubbles Sire! Please No more Bubbles! And the rap taps tapping of a rook on the window. His owner hearing only the sounds of an annoying meaoow! Bellow forth threw a determined slipper at him and he scarped away behind the curtain. Now at this time, to inform the reader, I should mention that Moses had been planning a party and banquet in Stink's honour at the Meare Manor to commemorate his rise to the king of levels. This was to be held when his owners were mercifully away on a holiday cruise around the Mediterranean.
            Still here now again, what was that sound, a rap pa tap tap. The window! Moses sidled up to the glassy pane and lifted it a little to let the cool evening air rush in and with it the fog. Then as mysterious as a ghost, the large black rook revealed itself once the fog veil lifted. Sir- the rook spoke in that rough military way of a soldier. “A Party of animals has been spotted entering the valley of Kirlegate, wild animals sir with what appears to be an otter at the head of them.”

“Animals, Wild animals you say well there cannot be any of them left surely King Stink has eradicated them or else brought them under the whip in one of his slave camps?”

“Sir they are as wild as the day I was born, if you'll pardon the expression and they mean to cross the whole village that is what my spies have heard.”

"Well we can't have that can, we Leopold?" No we can't a sly faced Siamese cat said sidling up beside him around one of the ornamental armchair feet.

“You as head of ravens And Spy Master Rook will inform my son Tobias of this that is his district And I will be damned if a son of mine can't stop a few rebels from going against the herd. Mark my words they will rue the day they decided to cross the estates of Meare.” With this, the Rook left in flap of feathers and Moses had shut the window pane.
“You are aware that Stinks visit is only hours away and we can't have a scene like this upsetting the apple cart Moses?”
“Yes. Thank you, Leopold, quite aware and nothing that these scoundrels are playing at will deter me from my preparations. Now how are the decorations coming, they both walked off into the hall way talking on the banquet and how it was to be achieved.”

Tomorrow

Tomorrow’s back pages

Tomorrow’s back pages are better than today’s
It’s only because you said you loved me
That I went away
The best line in the story was that one I could not say
Because it’s on tomorrow’s back pages
Which are better than today’s
Even if I heard you cry
The ink has dried on the page
Well you know my tears have dried
And I’m on another stage
So let the columns slip
Let the rows of words slip away
Tomorrow’s back pages are better than today’s

Dead Angel’s Of the Railway

Clipped winged angels bow their heads in the garden
Sitting there decaying waiting for death
As railway drinkers sip at the tables
They sleep in communion like the argent and sable
With the railway sleepers and the drunk’s breath

Romano nosed bar tenders serve out the beers
As from the same cup drink the true ones and pretenders
And radio silence cuts the rabbit’s ears
Across the noiseless countryside time is called

At closing time songs are sung through
And fly past towers of tenderness rhyme
That long ago a railway ran through here
When peat workers trudged their black shoes through snow
But all that’s left now for to show
Is the foot prints of birds that dance on their toes

Yet when I have slept, like the railway sleepers
I am the rhine, the south drain, the rain
It is buried deep in a nerve bundle of the solar plexus consciousness
Calling me back there to live
At closing time
When the glasses clink
And the voices fall silent

Who will remember the dead angels in violet?
With their wings cut off as if from shame
Holding eternity in their palms
Old as the peat beneath them
Decaying so quietly without violence

Sometime close to dawn
When the midnight choir grows silent
And the rains pita- patter on the window
Then the shadow of a rush of thought
Has cascaded through consciousness
Like a waterfall of memory
So precious and startling as ice flow
So transmutable as vapours
Which flow around us
That the single state of being
Is as three, a trinity of Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Or ice, water and steam vapour
That before the dawn we are in phase all three

From day into night

It all started with the morning light
As the trees wept their dew
And the grass blades seeped wet too
Then the bark warmed up and began to peel
The birds came out and began to reel

As the rocks sang beneath the crying waves
And the howling ocean came forth and gave
In crashing cymbals, and splashing spray
The fish sprang out and burst from grave
And the sky sang out to the ones who were saved

In the chorus of clouds that rumbled the waves
And sun like a ringing bell resounded down its rays
To the harps of sand banks that beneath them swayed
And every shell was clapping in time as the played

As the thunder shadows drummed aloud
And strummed the lightening that flashed in the cloud
And the seals which crowed their crowning cawing
With the sea gulls that danced above with their calling

Then the night came down as a shroud on a crown
Put in bounteous virtue the sea and the sound
While the Stars as triangles pinged around
And rang as bells in God’s royal rolls
The crescendo tinkering tinkling knells
That ends in the fathomless moon

Flat Holm Book

www.ottographic.co.uk

Friday, 21 November 2014

Some of me poems



Journey Poems

Ocean's eleven -or Rhyme of the ancient mariner Revisited
I set off for eleven oceans
After I'd sailed seven seas
Four more I could not fail
I thought it would be a breeze

I was a lonesome vagabond
in search of riches, tourism and drink
But on that eleventh ocean
was where my ship did sink

A-drowning I was ship-wrecked
my raft it was marooned
upon the shore of a far off Isle
by a whale I had Harpooned

For where is this poor countree
that ye have towed me to?
He said well lonesome vagabond
I've towed ye to Peru

Peru I said and startled up
Where canst a man walk home?
Neigh dear lonesome Mariner
For too far have ye now roamed

But Lo what Majestic sky turned out
When I did turn me Head
For Heaven displayed a plethora of stars
One if followed must home me led

To orient I fixed the whale
Again out on the ocean
And told him hence to beat his tail
And thus from this dark Isle we shall give motion

And so on the crew of one did wend
It's starlit toiling passion
For the sea was as green as a wild monster
Calling my heart's courage to ration

Never a boat had thus put sail
Upon these treacherous seas
Nor chart or map to orient
Our pathless way to ease

We journeyed on without rainfall,
Our mouths were parched as sands
And the rats which fled from my raft
The searing heat they could not stand

Then to me appeared a visage of a friend
One I had known but now long lost
A man I had betrayed in love
And now before me visited his ghost

Accusing eyes they pierced me
And cut me to the quick
That I should live, while he had died
No candle burns a faster wick

Then flames in cohorts filled the scene
And seemed to set a light the timber
And in each flame a visage appeared
Of a man who was my crew member


They called to me and cried still worse
Why have you forsaken your brothers?
Because your life and his were tied together
Now his death will be your curse

So, on I fled, crying “take me away from this guilt”
And soon from the air came a wandering dove
The evil which gave voice to these spirits
Had been dissolved by a face of love

The mermaid (dove?) joined my vessel and led the
Whale towards dark cliffs,
“It is land “I cried
And so grateful was I
That no line written could tell of my bliss

Thank you said I, but then down had he died
Exhausted upon the deck
My future still lay in the balance, so for luck
I wore the bird around my neck

The Island was old and grey from a distance
But with speed became more familiar
It was the very spot I had sailed from
In June fifteen long years past clear

The wedding guests had arrived and there
I went with upmost haste
Now to you I regale my tale
Of eleven ocean's to which I lay waste

The Brown Water Brook – Of a December train journey from Bristol to Aberystwyth
Brown water in the brown brook
Flowing fast like a runaway crook
Swallowing hollows
Peaking on the tree lines
Of Alder, Ash and Willows
Grasses systemic in fields
Like primitive rice
Turning to boggy marsh land
And edges of birch bark
Damp and dark
With wet cloud covering everything
Up to the hill tops
Hedges black and dark,
Boarder fields there,
Crows in a pair
Tip toe and muzzle the earth with their beaks
Nowhere near the brown brook with the white crest peaks

Then the brook washes down again
And is seen from the train
Like a mane
Of a wild horse
Flowing down the mountain

Where Christmas tree shaped skeletons of birch fill a valley
Like forgotten Christmases past and lost to memory
Only sighted from a journey, East to West
To the Saturday noon, the moon past it’s best

And Ivied trees slender,
Others covered in moss
The dead brown of leaves
Lends a feeling strong with loss

And shadow to a crumpled land
By the wind and weather
Yet I am a changed man
Like the wind carrying a feather

It is a hope for the land
As back to view comes the brook singing
As it tributaries a larger river
As I see sheep on the hill side running
Scared from the train
The brown river running fast
With the falling rains

It is yellowy cream of churned butter,
The surface scum
That tumbles and turns
In troughs and gushes then
Like spreading fingers departs

And then it leaves the train’s route in yarn spools
To only standing water in pools
And Black slate walls
Damp

Then reeds and long grasses,
In the marshes by Macunthlyth
And Dovey Junction, fen land high
Firs in mist and fog and the sense of height
Mountain tops beyond sight
Hidden behind a curtain, a veil of white cloud

Then flat ground, flat as a fen
As the lay of an ocean bed
The wide flat river passes
Like a Mississippi over the plain

A solitary chapel on a promontory
Of a little headland into the flood bed
That is green with grass but not lush
Brown as well
And sculpted up into gentler hills

The brows of tarmac roads
And grey/white stone built houses
Start to populate and change the landscape

Into modern houses
Community greens and football grounds
Then the brown babbling brook appears again
And look as it follows the train
Down to the sea
Criss-crossing under bridges from
The crow’s path
Turning the Ystwyth
Into Aberystwyth




Why is your country so Isolated
As a Pariah State
Come bathe in waters of Forgiveness
My lady of the lake
The salt heads are melting
In the towns strong heat
I come back to you
With my heart on fire
From the Raging in the street
The hills are so old
Their eyes are so weary
From the Loves gone cold
Spear heads and Strong guards
hold talismen for mistakes
Come defend your island of the past
Let the tallow candles flake

You are so North sea trawler
With your ice diamond slippers
And your sequin shawl on your shoulders
You like to race your fish of diffidence
in an ocean school
Well you treated them so bad
The best they ever had
You know you were a fool
There are no more tears
to drop or fall
The skies are dried up squalls
As are the mouths of the sea gulls
when they sit upon your harbour walls

The hour Your Hands in Mine

Ten o'clock forget me nots
Draw shadows on the wall
Well I'm a wall flower
To the hour
That your hands in mine

The birds that twirl
Inside the clock
Do sing cuckoo to the chime
Well I'm that song bird on the hour
That your hands in mine

The sun that climbs
upon the dial
Can cast a shadow of time
well I'll be fine on the line
The hour yours hands in mine

Why should you be so atlantic?
When the cold pacific is past

The sea is a whale of a joke
a pale past of some
cigarette smoke
Well when will you
try to be my pacific ghost?
The turbines turn on heavens shore
Rivers of mercury
flood in last
Diablo riches, oceans witches
Joker kitches down rollo's coast
Freeze as the arctic
Why must you be so atlantic
And believe my Frantic Host

Oh Blue caesar
Come down off your throne
You've been to honolooloo
And it hit you like a stone
Sent ripples of your innocense
through the ocean alone
Yet you are so atlantic
But Pacific future unknown
The doors are empty,
Now so is the throne

You're like a sea that flows so frantic
And the ship in the glass
Thats a captive romantic
Well don't it sting
When the sands run fast
I have you here
In my inner ear
You nautiless shell
in the cross winds cast
You fear to tell
What the background static
Will sound to one
who hears you last

Those nubs of pens
that do prick the surface
then spoil the ink
with oil slick
the rub fire mountain
yields its magic
from the point of moses staff
Yet why must you be so atlantic
And draw the oceans apart
And here am I so salty wounded
Mindful of the hateful starts
Lets bring it again
to the nailed Judas
Who first kissed your
sea-scaped mouth

Slowly standing in shadows
singing sullenly to you
Where rushes hush
the harps and harmonies
and wood wind reeds
hum the tune to the tumbling dark
As day brings its mantel down
And the ground swallows the light
I cannot hold its brightness
And must give out to night
As in the blowing wind
The dog loses its bark
And the colours of the clown
have turned from blue to white.

I heard you cry
In the court of clowns
Why were you in contempt
You know well it is a crime
To let me down
When I stand in the dock
While you slept through the hours of the clock

But believe not my lips
For as the past they may lie
My heart is sunk upon
Your bleeding ocean
Our future the judge's sentence remain
And I carry the ball and chain
Like a convict to your love
My heart gives motion
In that freedom's cry

The road map stole
the way to her lips
Her breasts the mountain pass
Her throat the land ladies tenement
I have no rent to pay the toll fast
There were no potholes
That left black mouths
Her skin was my motor oil
As I drove on through her laugh
I lost my map at her heart
But could not turn back there
So I kept on going to the velvet underground
and her beautiful
mole black hair

There may be no heaven
and may be no hell
But baby when I'm near you
Then why can't you tell
I'm in love
I am in love with you

The stars in a sunder
Go wheeling under
That bright blessed moon
Now I've never seen a were wolf
but I believe I'm not all man myself
because under your spell I swoon
Oh baby I'm in love
I am in love with you

The lecturers in Parliament
do pass laws that govern us
Dictate our lives and our moves
Well I'm no chess player
but I've seen Kasparov
and with your stealth
You could show him a thing or two
Because like him I see in black and white
There is only wrong and right
And thats why I'm checkmate of
The love you give to me

The sun shines out strongly
With the Pitch fork Bishop Berkely
tells us we all belong in existence bubbles
But round a cauldron witches talk
of loves labours and loves troubles
And no man is an island
is uttered more than twice
Yet William Blake was not among the coven,
though the cockrel crew thrice
As Judas betrayed his brother in the garden
And quite a mock went all of Eden
Decorum out the window
Love was not troubled to be made
Love was the great parade
and then was left in shadow
The men who with their sharp words crossed
The stolen covenant of rich night
To the stair case of moses
in a mountain high
Did force retribution from
a punishing God
The torment who long ago
held Aphrodite as cousin to Zeus' Rainbow
And laid down alms in the hands
of the poor
Before killing their own mothers
And marrying their fathers whore
To beg at beliefs southern face
While others ascend her summit
Is to believe that she has a limit
While others have no wish to scale it
And yet with all your wisdom
Your faith cannot move it
For only love is out there
waiting in the dark
Love is wanting you to prove it
And silence is jeopardy
As beauty is a knife edge
Both cut your talk eventually
If the line you sleep walk inside your dream
is not true to Loves country
She will set you on an island
And leave you there drowning
In the stream