Elbows
Knees
keep you
Bendy
And when someone tells you
' I bent over backwards'
and they are not an act in a circus
Just know they are big white lie fibbing.

those waggling tongues
sure do motor
a short excursion (to the outside world)
and most are blaming
it all on others

change of weather
change of season
change of heart
change of reason
change of thought
change of mood
change of look
change in your hand

Sun-sap reinvigorates muscle and bone
giving new-day life to night-times end
entering-in through porous-skin long
before opening eyes wide light do see.

all those jaws opening and snapping shut on the words their wiggly tongues spit out of lips made for kissing
speaking a language of war and death-
and the doomed love of mankind
I do not believe in their throats last gulps of dismal prophecy
and refuse to listen to their warmongering
as long as one sparrow still chirps I know love is alive and kicking.

Those who love us with self sacrifice do not grow on trees.

Hermits: DO NOT BREED.

sliding off the edge of the world
a new horizon dawns

imaginative minds take control
move the race forward-

into the as yet unknown
coming up trumps-

with answers to questions
no-one else thought to ask

with a body of sculpted spaghetti
moving along the freeway
my eyes on full beam, its night
Way before I reach destinations end
and daylight finds me out , again
I switch off, and stick out my thumb

Every day
I unpick
my beard
knots
and tangles
from its
lengthy
flowing out
my face
cascade
down my
disappeared
chest
like a
girl
twiddling
her
pigtails

all creatures come and find sanctuary here
this space is your space
and always was

wounded in the depths
a mind searching
but never knowing

main street big city
old men stop- lean into
lingering conversations
while bustle and rush
the young hustle waves
washing around live bronze statues

your chest opens
and a gut feeling agrees
the mind also
is in complete agreement

I am not a homemaker
husband
not any kind of bread winner

I am a poet
and this is
exactly what I was born for

The tide of your waters breaking
heralded a childs immanent birth
all connected to the pull of the Moon
and the urge of life on our shared shores
to welcome your watery born release
onto the solid ground of birthing earth.

there lives a loveliness deep down in all things they sing
and they sing of the freedom of beauty that is in all things
and all things give out their all unto all that could ever be
or wished imagined made- up fanciful and living is the secret
at the bottom of all alchemy scheming and pondering the loveliness
surrounding impressed crowning and surpassing all things

Swinging legs from out the warmness of two quilts and heavy blankets
I dip my toes into today testing the coldness of January
the wind has slammed rain against the walls nonstop for two days and nights wailing like a thousand banshees and whistling a ghostly opera
nothing fleshy moves about outside, all cowers in their dens and houses
while the weather claims the land her own and nobody argues.

The great inner landscapes
mirror the eyes of the soul
where skies and land meet
on a horizon beckoning home.

I left all enticement behind
no longer fluff up my feathers
or puff out my chest
aftershave is superfluous
when your beard is a scarf.

jumping ship made me wise up
trust no-one
not even yourself

cats and dogs and legs and feet
cushions and blankets and snoring
hey make room for a little one!

spontaneity can be robbed from an unsuspecting heart
by the jealous disregard and dominance seeking ogre

sometimes you get real close to unleashing the demons
the same ones unleashed upon you (with a unique personal twist)
and sometimes you catch a glimpse in the mirror
the demons face you wear so well
sometimes you wish goodwill but its far from permanent
sometimes love wins and its there all demons give homage
and giving homage to love is eternal, written deep within all DNA
even demons succumb to the fact they never invented themselves.

all your rockets graced the sky
and corks from your champagne
littered the fields of refugees  
the bands played all the hits
while models paraded in silks
money poured out of machines
but you were lucky if you got some
while kings ransoms were waged on horses
children begged for morsels
Poets wrote of love and war
and generals marched their forces
up and down lines on a map
and people soaked in T.V
hardly critical of its content
Welcome to the 21st century
flags and banners faded into history

walking on water looks a cert
when looking right now
no need for wellie boots

21st century conspiracy;
switch channels when the adverts come;
you will find adverts on all the other channels

staid, frayed, deadpan look
greyed, all out of sorts
one dried river one dead sea
no more ozone to fix
burnt out stars, black
tar highway to somewhere
else, on your knees, please
plead for one more chance
dreams full of ***, lots
of confused TV programs
follow you into the night
horrible characters, out for
death, dead themselves
ghost, spectres, a haunting
weighed down with evil
stumble, trip, down a black
hole, eaten up, devoured.

one man lies down cold on cardboard
another man in a warm feather bed

one man suffers for his art
one man steals another's ideas

one man gives it all he's got
another takes all he can

some folk reach out a helping hand
while others count the cost and do nothing.

Black Sheep, the label starts to be applied
slowly, sneakingly, one comment at a time,
and when that is not working,
the wolf turns into a disabled lamb,
and all a sudden you are a Black Sheep beyond redemption
While the wolves eat each others words

I always had so much in common with sparrows,
all bird song, and freedom of the wild places.
Like a child following the Pied Piper I went
over dale and down valleys through the woods
acres of cultivated fields and meadows full of
adventure and the little things that fascinated
around every nook and cranny. This is where
my heart was pining for all my life and this
is where my bones will be buried by some
small miraculous winding road I travelled
following the sparrows as they sang their songs.

Any kind of pain
reminds
utopia is a myth

and pain elicit
compassion
for fellow creatures

holiness divorced
from love
is no holiness at all

so refute all false ideas
of killing and suicide
to get you to paradise.

want to see a smile
then give one away

the desperado has long gone
and a scenic view has taken over
its that time of life
you never thought would happen
the stallion has been sold
now your clothes are far away
from fashionable
strange thing is not so strange
after all that lived experience

not a ripple
a stir
all lays washed
and towelled
a world about to shake
droplets
out her hair

a condemned sinner from the start
and believe, its yourself who does the condemning

I was always a prime student for the ways of love
- to be found in a small oasis

A mini clone of myself would be too much to handle, and
may well play deep into my choice of singleton over marriage,
childless over breeding. It would break my heart to see such bewilderment on the face of a son or daughter, one I would have parental responsibility for, in a world of so many contradictions.

may each effort be blessed
-a happy meet
pebbles gently making
-the still waters sing.

playing catch up
is a lifelong
following breadcrumbs

Moving from mere observation and listening
sliding into silence, all separation evaporates
and you become one with your surroundings
so much so that you feel you have disappeared.

some lifeforms would **** and eat you
lions, tigers, alligators....
but mostly life slowly kills you
and the longer you live the closer you come to death

the secret places-
solitude you seek

aloneness found
you are known.

watched from afar
a cradled star

cherished
loved.

I have no idea why
or where
or how
coincidence happens
or even
if it will
I only know it cannot be engineered
is sometimes startling
sometimes comforting
and its remembrance lasts.

I see you poet stretched out
word blind.

The empty shell left
in your wake.

And the coin
to pay the ferryman
laid on your closed eyelids.

The two coppers given
in charity
for your last song.

Bird call and poet song
short bursts of sound
meet and mingle
become life in motion.
The fields meeting
the sea. Our cathedral.
Our choir assembled.
Freedom ours. Voices
in time and eternity.

...noticed how the skin on my hands has lost its elasticity..
another way of saying wrinkles are now unmistakable..
and inevitable...especially when typing out words on a keyboard...
a daily activity..

A stage to go through
a bad hair day
Fashion and fad

it will be time to walk into forever
when love is all in all
and you have become the river
flowing from the fountain

each poetic venture
a brief light
shooting star
across a silent sky.

wind songs playing ruler
around the house;
blowing boom and bash
moving all the greenery;
nothing escapes
the bending of insistence;
while all waits
for the wind- blow- out;
spent of its playing