neolithic cave drawing

 neolithic cave drawing

palm to palm 

pass the past

a port in the storm

of the time when she drew

the dark around her

singing in the candlelight

the chase was on

down all the caves of hunting

an explanation for it all

dearth called for breakfast

 dearth called for breakfast 

at the breakfast table

a dearth of the dead

they were toast 

that wouldn’t stay down

the curse of the un-bread

the pallor of the pollarded

partly dead the party gathered

incensed by thoughts

burnt by offence

beating the table with their knives

beat  beat  beat

the food of the braying mob

was a fast breaking 

trust me i was there

the zombie with aplomb

back silvered back

 back silvered back

what mirror doesn’t insist

that you come back 

just to be sure

that a different you

is taken away

the receipts on the spike

grow as tall as the stories

in this house of mirrors

the lie is reflected

back and forth 

a perpetually adjusted tie

editing

 editing

is that splat dross

or the icing on the cake

leave it

there

lick your fingers

mmmm the muse

the muse

 tornado

those poor cars those poor cars

• video

a scene on the ganges is described

 a scene on the ganges is described

is this the real world
at the end of a path of words
overhung with expectation 
a scene unfolds in disbelief 
and yet he says he saw it
just as described
i do so want to believe
for then i can plan to go there
and replay the words into the river’s wind
the sunset’s solitude
and kneel there
momentarily

gasp

 gasp

you can’t speak without breathing

for air is free speech

you cannot write a poem without the muse

who comes uninvited and without a fee

if you stop speaking or writing until you are paid

you will smother creativity 

and maybe

just maybe 

i will never return

it said 

chaplet

 chaplet 

on lengthening vines

all  the  rest  less 

birds of summer

talk is of going south

of following the old birds

their taste tales of Africa

with their tails in the air

are you ready 

steady …

twittering

overwintering

the cat’s dog days

 the cat’s dog days

a cat stalks

the sun

in the lavender stalks

it all talks of

the dog days of summer

that have been seen off

how the words fall 

that have seen it all

the cat twirls three times

and dozes off

just sayings

 just sayings

in the lost woods

the voices of my mum and dad

the funny sayings they had

a fire to warm me

now that i am lost in the turning 

they were such strange sayings

head under the pillow stuff

dark window stuff

distant train stuff

to who 

will i turn to

now that the turntable is

sending me back down the track 

muttering all those sleepy sayings

just one more for the road 

if not now then when

 if    not    now    then    when

i said that one day i was going to visit

she said if not now then when

and i thought and thought 

i was still thinking when they said

your time is up 

genre be gone

 genre be gone

kick my arse out of this poetry groove

this poetry groove 

this poetry groove 

this poetry groove

click my can’t be arsed

to unsheathe another album cover to recover

my balance 

leap of faith

tell me again tell me again that is what i need

tell me there is another world outside 

walk me on the wild side 

drop me hints on the paper chase 

blindfold my blindfold over and over

darken me

ker pow 

where are we now 

paradise lost on a collage without pieces

hand me a crayon 

click click click

lick

 pop-star’s funeral

ten thousand smart phones

at arms length 

the butterfly effect

 the butterfly effect

scalp vain
skin deep 
the success of cannulation 
drip drip 
satisfaction flows
nevertheless 
life is full of these little things
that caress into friendships
of fontanel softness

drawing in

 drawing in

the night’s are drawing in

whispered on the wind

of dusk 

guy fawkes 

whittled down to a whisper

of the boys’ determination 

bigger

than last year’s

is agreed in lieu of memory

yes for yes is afoot tonight

and it must be just so

a smut settles

and then another settles

as white as snowflakes

will be 

will be 

soon

the longest word

bigger than childhood

soon it will be

christmas 

that whirlpool of emotion where

fairy tales abound

when really

starts really drawing in

snap decisions

 snap decisions

that photo

if it was such a ‘great capture’

why is the subject still there

why can you not release it

back into the wild

and if you did

would there be two wild moments

to capture

and 

did you stalk the image

or did you wait patiently 

are you a hunter-gatherer

or a farmer of cropped images

apertures widen