the sea swimmer in winter

a video with voice over of one of my poems

youtu.be/qxkDB-G3Q1k

the writer

writing is the lightening 

in the humid air

the writer the kite flyer

who puts the words just there

and when they are dry and done with crying

the writer says "look here"

i am a writer now you see

it was me who put them there

but quick as lightening the ink winks
and thunder slams the book

the sensual beauty of a woman’s body

the sensual beauty of a woman’s body

is placed before you for her child

for gene’s tender trap

is designed to send you wild

with wide-eyed anticipation

two honey dews collide

and the web is spun

the deed is done

as you take her for your bride

you are now the rock of daddy

and she is mum, mum, come quick!

and now the beauty of a mother’s mind

will bind you to her child

the rocking of ages

you might fling yourself upon that rock

like the sea 

                      like the sea

and then draw back 

   then draw back

 to be and be 

baptised 

unto your deity

so now you think 

  you understand 

but "it" is one step ahead

  one step ahead 

it has just left the room

  just left the room

just around the corner

  around the corner

so turn back now

  and turn back to

this your daily bread

for reluctantly 

   the reluctant sea

has seen it all before

has seen the tides 

of humanity

ebb and flow

  ebb and flow

so now you know 

   so now you know

      now you know

the 3a

the 3a

the voices on the bus an esperanto 

of hermaphrodite tongues that ignore the

passing scenes that blend

into a never-never land

that and that 

the wind cannot get out

of the window it came in through

because when the fresh air

gets into your lungs

some soft apeth slams it 

   shut

oh yes all human life is here

alright

let me off

ding

      let me off

ding

music returns to auschwitz and a lone voice sings

music returns to auschwitz 
   and a lone voice sings

YouTube

such longing, such an aching lamentation.

why do you not scream out, or 

laugh in an inconsolable madness

and release me from the gibbet 

of your anguish?

that i could manage,

that i could cope with.

and, no, i do not want to forget, 

but there is beauty in the purity of the 

voice that impales the pain;

it holds me spellbound.

i weep now for all mankind;

doomed, doomed, as we are, 

doomed to relive a myriad deaths 

and shades of suffering

before the end. 

oh, i bleed down these ochre walls,

as i relinquish into a sea of wailing

all of my sorrow; 

i dread what yesterday will bring 

unto the ‘morrow;

it lacerates my sadness 

to hang empty upon the night air, 

and i wail and wail, but to no avail;

for alas is never enough;

is it?

kara

kara 

     tarrah!

she is only twelve, and yet she is already

a seed bursting in a summer pod. 

sometimes she may be as bitter as laburnum; 

but taste it you will. 

she is fired in the yellow of tomorrow’s dawn;

she has her chin upon the clouds;

she is going there, stop her if you dare!

cage the spirit and the bats will beat the bars; 

can you claw the air back into a cage? no! 

so let her breathe, say goodbye then she might tarry; 

spinning at the other end of the skipping rope, 

head in the stars that orbit her sun. then whoosh! 

so be gone my lovely, wave back now and then?

please,
          please.