Butterfly season
gates flung wide

Flower chemistry
perfume and colour

Bee food and ***
pollination and pregnancy

Butterfly season
gates flung wide.

The Sun holds to her ancient place
and we dance to her song

Live sings the light, live

one of the downfalls of living a singleton life
there is no-one to massage your shoulders

all poets are mute singers
their shadows mime every song.

Commanded to speak when spoken to
wearing the Victorian straight jacket
kept our small mouths at bay
Each mealtime became a terror
and the sharing of a family meal
the battleground of broken wills.

chirping friends tree sparrows
happy in the branches
chatting non-stop merrily

She leaves a cold scar where she treads
icicles hang from her teeth fall shattered
deep into the flesh of the valley sheltering
trying to find a reason to keep on living
while the remnants of her passing settle
the whoosh of her wind a dark spell of winter.

This is a time of garden gates
and all new beginnings;
Excited filled minds and bodies.
Postie walks slower these days;
smiling with sunshine.
Dogs bark round the farm
always on their toes;
Brendan their keeper never worries.
And all good things come to those who wait
so patience is my watchword;
Free to walk slow like postie
and to never worry like Brendan.

whipping up a poem from all the strands of creation
to open the fire and see its heart burning for life
a cold shoulder the greatest of compliments to come your way
and to live fully within the midst of death singing your songs
to keep on crawling when you can no longer walk
gathering yourself up to sit and spin all there is into a ball
then like a snowflake be uniquely here and then uniquely be gone.

the limited view
out of sight

be more open
to other experience

the one you reject
is often the one to help

I broke open a fortune cookie
out jumped a woman
wearing a red dress
She sang like Elvis
dancing on the table
in red six inch heels
I looked to the waiter
for help
and I could see love
written all over his face
I made my excuses
paid the bill
and left.

some poets hold a power of freedom
consciously or unconsciously
their words hold a fire from the Sun

take a step
into the all
unknown

slabber dabber
I dribble words
and mop up
the tears from my heart
hoping for Nirvana

I took the late train from Euston to Glasgow Central
turned 21 at midnight as the train sped northward
never suspecting it was all a set up
I walked right on into it, and it took another 21 years
for me to finally realise it. A mule is never paid enough
considering the potential consequences. But admitting you were someone's fool is far easier a lesson than if I had been caught and convicted. Not withstanding any misery my cargo unleashed, on the streets of Scotland.

the sounds of cannon and gunfire
follow man to destinies end
born of woman killed my brothers
all for the sake of peace
what mix of man am I
a son a brother husband father
a man of letters, killer
at the drop of a hat

made it thus far
carried all
the way

this is a day for blowing feathers
laying down in grass
singing to the cows
listening to the world speak
watching a spider
cradling a butterfly
whistling to the sun
eating breakfast
this is a day

I could have been a slug
so count your blessings

cut the hands off a person who steals a carrot
stone a woman to death caught in adultery
take that eye for a nose, that ear for a lie
**** everyone who votes for life, or death
Just be aware that your meted out punishment
may well make you far worse than the original offence

standing on a sand castle
the water ran fast as a train
wind blew all before its mighty

mighty right of passage
as all the sand grains
flew to their resting place

the castle whipped up
whipped up into the air
our feeble effort in vain

the moaning of mowers
the madness of may
to cut down and master
like the buzzing of dinosaur size bees
gets under your skin
into your ear
and how you wish your neighbours
petrol driven grass killing machine
would give up its ghost and rust where it lay.

I am in love and have been longer than memory can figure
I dream of love my love in places revisited in love dreams
most unexpected except those places my dreams visit are
very very welcome and cherished familiar.

16th April
Feast of St Magnus
Earl of Orkney
Martyred
Saint of our Isles

some music is fast
the flight of the bumblebee
for instance.

wanting more than death
a medic with a sub-machine gun
for protection only( The Geneva Convention)

But Hell and HELLS ANGELS
never give credence to the wounded
or those wielding bandages

The Killing ground is ******
and bodies are breaking down
and the sub-machine guns spit hell

I have seen seagulls doing their rain dance
drumming the earth with their webbed feet
fooling the worms its raining so they surface
they do other dances sky dances and sing
I have yet to understand but their connection
between air water and earth simply amazing

jumped in the skin of dreams
- nights reign over day

many strangeness found there;
and we found there too;

goodbye to past lives
we always said

as we wandered here and there
hoping to find old friends

and as always the remembering
the remembering of broken dreams

one day your blood will run dry
your heart a shrivelled peach
and your skull will grin for eternity
if your lucky, that is

someone may come across your name
but it will only be just that
nothing more
a name among many.

centuries will come and go
and you become more and more dust
an overgrown patch of dirt
next to a motorway.

Your voice came from deep in the Earth
made me stand still
and listen.
Centuries of generations rose up
-up out the past
And I waited for you to speak
All the time and time again
faces spoke of the futility
of chasing silver and gold.
And in the very centre Judas
wept.

a tangle of roots and flowers out of reach
the maze with a centred heart
who would tread this road?
the poets love affair with words.

the indestructible is at ease with itself
consequently with all else

its the mortal that suffers fear of loss
and needs reigning in

wild is blooming
gambling all;
Making love.

twenty four spun
a web around me
injected sleep dose
for dreams feasting

young minds cut loose
ties more readily
and much sooner
than thought;
by too wrapped up
to even notice
self centred egotists

willingly
I worship
at your door

I love the glass mirrored sea
where killer whales swim.. just down the road

but there is a stealthy creature
down deep in the depths
wearing an iron skin
bristling with war heads
enough to start world war three
and you will never get to see them.

we could *** ,drugs and rock and roll
personally I never was going to be Mr Pension;
cut hedges and take the wife to bingo
somewhere middling feels normal enough

the make believe of childhood reads
always seemed the most real-
to me

superstitious mind died
I know I will no longer
fall between the cracks

jump in and out of others dreams everyday you live
be sure you have been a nightmare, or two, that's for sure
even, or especially when at your most sincere
and never forget you can never live up to anybody's dream
you are not a dream,, maybe at the very most, a bit dreamy

visitors and their map
held out and pointing
stop
bearings
on they go
up the one road

I have never traded a barrel of oil directly
but my wheels smoothly turn on its lubricating properties

This whole body heaves
wracks and judders
with its broken dream.

love is oozing out every blade of grass
oozing for good reason not random
love is oozing because its like chocolate
chocolate that loves so much its plentiful as grass

all the dirt beneath your nails
bad skin of a Toad's poison
a stirring of broth called death
and the laughter of a coven
we all are dancing circles
a witches breath of spells
come closer me dear, closer
you will live forever, dead.

the pillars of mankind shake rattle and sing
nothing means nothing when nothing is real
all the young dudes and all the young pretenders
Twist their guitars and sing loud to upset their Ma
Drums and drummers are never that welcome
Anywhere but in seclusion is the bands practise
Hell for leather, a poet is never , that welcome
surprise yourself, and others, who gives a **** about ppoetry

We went quietly about our work
snatched songs from thin air
wrote ream upon ream of words
our hearts claimed by the beat
beat rhythmic beat of poetry.

Today I slipped into a new reality
awoke from dreams
and was led by the hand
by the following faces
of flowers towards the Sun