as the light fades
at the full tide of memory
the bay fills with tears
estuarine they call it
this meeting of the flow of the land
against the inflow of the ocean
dylan
he had been and seen both sides
of the sea’s retrograde regrets
of the high tide of hopes
the low tide of the end of saying
just this and no more
cold tears
on an early summer evening
as the light fades
feeding the algorithm
and so this is we
we say we
because now we are two
there were two others
before there were these two
that is the cycling of life
of all lives
so she sits and she feeds
and he juggles his needs
against her needs
until one day he is alone
and looks for the two
before the next two
feeds into the algorithm
paths
have you ever wondered
about the paths
do they stay there all night
or do they go walking down our footprints
do they asleep all day
lulled by our mutterings
when a tree falls across a footpath
it will swerve around it
they are alive you know
you know that
the emperor’s old clothes
erstwhile the pageant circumvents
the thought centres of our sentience
and bids as pied piper rats that we
follow on from precedent
and bow my liege lord to lick the boots
of a man who cares but not two hoots
as we die in his slum country estates
plebeians plebeians but just your fates
so wave your flags as the gilded coach
runs over your toes and even worse
a police state now your final rights remove
down on your knees down on your luck
do you really think he cares a fuck
god’s in his heaven
the perfect spot
is it not
for the sun is gentle
and the garden humid
the door to the greenhouse
is open wide
the plants have decided
it is time to grow
and my shirt is off
my toes exposed
and this how it goes
as the apple blossoms fall
all is perfect in the world to me
forgotten yuletide the christmas tree
the cobra sage is flowering free
mint and thyme aromatic dinner
a place here for even a sinner
can see the reason for a perfect life
here sit with me and end this strife
climate change is coming fast
the clement parameters will never last
a pigeon flaps and pecks her cheek
everything fecund or so to speak
let me rest my golden eyes
under these blue suburban skies
and dream it will stay with me
but alas it is not meant to be
a chill breeze stirs the grass
my shirt back on
until the clouds are past
god’s in his heaven
the king’s on his throne
so go away off with you now
i need to be alone
cor runt nation
coronation ~ the arresting spectacle ~ of king canute
his story in the making of not my king
or the thoughts of where he got his loot
the tide of public opinion
is on the turn
flummery has no place
when the world will burn
will burn will burn will burn will burn will burn
seduce the populace with pageantry
this is nothing new to history
or the extramarital shenanigans
of the aristocracy
"gizzard puke" Kenny Everett said
and with that thought I’m off to me bed
carefree time
my blood sugar drops
my blood pressure drops
a thought arises
as thin as dawn smoke
thinking of a coffee
a poem is placed like a biscuit
red on the side of the saucer
i will unwrap it later
and dip it
