Out of the blue
I found the courage
to drink the wine
and I made a bee-line east

In existential Christmas angst
we scramble ‘round
up and down hills
spilling into
rivers of remembrance
and regret
wishing for storms
and a blanketing
of bright light white snow
with a warm cold
just before the year returns
to where it came from-
the pseudo place
that no one knows
where every thing manifests
never resting
coming and going at the same time
locking us all
into
an ancient Christmas time rhyme

London was blinding and London was bright
the darkness was hidden behind the daylight
In a sardine sea of humanity
there was no you, and there was no me

I saw London last week and I almost cried
I saw London last week and I almost died

The pace was relentless and I could see
no one was happy and no one was free
I was shown the sights of which people speak
I saw lots of things but no mystique

I saw London last week and I almost cried
I saw London last week and I almost died

Multicultural craziness, land of excess
It’s where you can find the best of the best
but the price was too high, too high to pay
and so I only stayed for the day

I spoke to a friend who said he was sad
in spite of all of the things that he had
I saw a man who was broken hopeless and lame
he told me that everything tasted the same

In London last week I almost cried

In this poem of mine
every line
will rhyme
every time

While the sun shines
on my glass of wine
I'll take my time
It'll turn out fine

I will be kind
to your mind
Every line
will be refined

It will be a crime
If I'm unable to find
a word that rhymes
every time

Stop and watch me carefully
what you get will not be what you see
My hedonistic needy-me view
has nothing at all to do with you
It’s all about me and not about you
Don’t trust what I say or what I do
I’m a man with a plan that I’ll never reveal
and it may take years for you to heal
If you fall for me and take the bait
You will find your self in a sorry state

Sean Hunt  July 2017

The truth is unfurled instantly
in our virtual world
The communal cyber-court
sits in perpetual session


Though the two-edged sword
of technology
sterilizes youth
it smites the system mercilessly


Mother Theresa never factored-in
‘social networking’
This bright light gave us
too good a look at her


               Sean Hunt   June 2017

paper turns purple
as it imitates the flames
licking animals

It may be today
That day that hardly anyone knows
even those with high degrees
from academies

Unless they have been tried
and lost their last appeal
unless their fate
has been sealed

Unless they have a date to fry
a date to fly up in the sky
a day to die
determined from on high

But I am not on death row
so I am not in the know
for me there is
uncertainty

Could be when I next take the wheel
and drive around a bend
blinded to the truth
that my life’s about to end

It could be in my hall
if I trip and fall and bump my head
I could be dead
then be reborn with no warning

In an orange sky
flies by
a foreign jet

In a golden age
clean pages
of knowledge

Inside our spines
neurons fire
and intersect

In grace, in church
on pews they perch
and genuflect

and

In fathoms blue
fish swim through
holy nets

With every breath I take
there's a mistake that I make
My paradigm is wrong
nearly all the time
I think you are out there
and between us there is air
I’ve been mistaken
I've been wrong
for such a long time
My paradigm
is wrong
Now I know the truth
and I cannot blame
the foolishness of youth
I see the greyness in my hair
I've learned the wisdom
that is rare
Why do I still think
that you are out there
and between us there is air



Sean Hunt  May 18 2017

It’s a virtual world
the one that we now
think we know
once removed reality

We see through
a series of screens
from hand-held cells
to HD screens
and every thing
in between

Beware of the wisdom
that comes out of my mouth
Because it comes out
doesn't mean it went in

A porpoise may stay
near the surface for air
without diving deep
to find what's down there?

It's easy to say words
if they have been learned
Knowledge of the meaning
this must be earned

This place where I am
is not the place
I want to be
Now I know
I need to go
from here to there.
Somewhere else,
other than here
is where I need to be

“How?”  says Maggie
when she’s in this state
and her body and mind
will not cooperate

“How?” I say
in my state
when my mind will not
cooperate

“How?”

Sean Hunt  August 17 2017

All those years
I could hear
but only with my ears

The years went by
and I could see
but only with my eyes

I could find
so many things
but only with my mind

Psychedelic eyes
saw it all
not seeing through the lies

The burned out basement
where I lived
floated into space

With my psychosis subdued
Every thing is new
My body, my mind
Me and you
Completely free
I soak up the sun
And swim in the sea
Of reality

Under the canopy
we are stranded
and wondering why
trying to stare through the sky

Lives are like straw
They are fragile
We are not strong
People do not last long

Religions all promise
an answer to the question
We try to make sense
stumbling through our innocence

Please be consoled
if you're grief is deep
We will escape our plight
The mirage is finite

Most days
I make myself so small
I almost disappear
into space 
Not quite!
Its such a waste

I'll try again
‎and again
‎Then,  one day
when‎ the motherless rabbit
‎stays in the hat
‎that’ll be that

My house and my life
have been Tracified
Now the frames on the wall
which once were all black
now have a trace of blue
and the ambience is
utterly new
Just like Christ on the cross
who was crucified and died
I say goodbye to the world
that I once knew
and embrace the tinges of blue
and the wonderful newness
of Tracey’s brew
She says “Hush”
as she hands me the cup

Night and day
Don climbed high
all the while
but one day
he was
Stymied by a stile

Unfortunately

whether we remain
in the quiet confines
of our own castle home
or whether we go out
with others
to sit down
for tea or coffee
aural torture is found
Boom boxes on four wheels
splashing sound all around
the cities
and the towns

Diesels growl
sirens howl
Swishing cars
hissing tires
Blasphemous bells
from hell

White noise is in the air
bouncing everywhere
from merry-go-rounds at county fairs
to elevators and dentist's chairs

Like lightning
silence sometimes comes around
making
a brief
but welcome break
in a surreal storm
of surround sound

When I finally die
losing me losing you
losing all the things I love to do
the only thing I might own
is my name carved in stone
if indeed someone plants me
like a silly seed
a mere name
claiming fame
but this will not last
for many years
It too will disappear
like a puff of cloud
or a candle blown out

The unfortunate character
trembled and tripped
He took a nasty spill
one day when he was already ill
The path was unlit, excessively muddy
and he slipped
Since he was into his second bottle of wine
and overstressed by his dunkenness
the cause of his fall
was indefinite
leading to the struggle
and trouble
of our kerfuffle

Oceans are warmer
ice is melting
We hear warning after warning
about global warming
But I live in England
and I wish
the climate would change
a little more
outdoors

Such A Unique Concoction
        or ....  'Ode To Mel'

Sartorially speaking
she has no equal
Later when she ordered a coffee
in Windermere
the waiter’s incredulity
spoke as many volumes
as her color scheme

Her order took a while
for him to grasp
as this was the first time
and the last
that anyone
would ever request
such a unique concoction



          Sean Hunt   August 2017

Why do I forget details
some days

Why do some things stay
and some go away

Why do I wonder why
Why do I need to know why

Would I want to remember everyone
and every thing
I have said
I have done
Would I want to recall
and transcribe every flaw
into a book
that could one day be read

Actual happenings
happenstance
hiding behind
a veil in my mind
without intent
not meant to deceive

What is wanted?
a bleeding of veins
allowing it all out
a psychic healing
of sorts

A comprehensive commentary
An exhaustive exploration
of it all

an odd self-audit impulse

Katie *****
is feeling out of sorts
Her world is turning
upside down
She's staying in
another town
where doctors
and nurses
are running around
testing her blood
every day
giving her apples
so she can say
"Doctors please go away"

We miss her here
in Windermere
and hope she turns
a corner soon
and comes back to
'The Land Of The Lakes'
where friends and family
await

We wonder what it is
that catches the eye
or captures the mind
as words go by
jumping off the page
with ease
like energetic fleas
or like a castle
appearing in the mist
We wonder what it is

The inevitable always happens
whether we are black or white
or living south or north
or if we play or fight

Seaweed swims the hemispheres
landing on all shores
throughout the year
from Iceland to the Azores

Sound is sometimes split in two
discriminated sounds are separated
for both the ears of me
and both the ears of you

They call this stereo
and it adds a little to the mix
Most of the time
it sounds just fine

Who does she see
when she doesn’t see me
and who do I see
who can this be
Ghosts and Phantoms
creeping about
underworld demons
causing confusion and doubt
Matrix monkeys
with hands full of spanners
going berserk
jamming the works
We don’t see with eyes
we see with our mind
and believe all the lies
of psychotic mankind

Essence of Grace
stayed in the air
all through the day
Though her star
is now far away
No need for incense
anymore
Boudoir perfumed
by ‘Shooting Star’
She goes while she comes
like a breeze in the air
her scent evidence
that she was there
Her smell lingered
through the day
The place was quiet
but it was okay
Living proof
of the truth
that we don’t want to know
Everyone
who comes
will go

Another poet
heard my words
pulled a rabbit
out of his hat
and said
“Take that”

The blood vessel burst
My good cool friend was soon dead
Enigma over

Wire and nails and pipes
and much other builder stuff
cluttering this place

Before words form
then fall, like rain
from the mind of a  writer
splattering a chaste page
There is no poem

Before the pieces
of someone's peculiar puzzle
are placed
precisely
on a page
There is no poem

Before the mind
of a reader
appreciates
something special
in a word salad
there is no poem

Before a reader
pretends to hear
sounds found
somewhere
between his ears
there is no poem

In Ambleside we see
the remains of a Roman fort
Though much has changed
from those times
We wonder what they saw
what kind of lives they lived
through the ticking down of breaths
from birth through ageing sickness and death

They were far from home
far from Rome
on the shore of Windermere
and we wonder
what in thunder
they were doing here
so far from home
on the shore of Windermere

There was no silver
there was no gold
but they came
and grew a little older
and then came more
boat after boat
but why
we do not know

They built a fort
from stone and wood
fit in as many
men as they could
clerks and cooks
We wonder
what they came here for
We wonder what they took

Mister Mac
Get back
You're giving me
A panic attack

Squeezing tight
With all your might
It's just not right

Picking my pocket
Here and there
Taking more money
Everywhere
                                         Sean Hunt Nov 2017

Birthwaite Bards
are sitting at a table
in The Lake District
in Cumbria
carefully watching
''Latest Poems'
as they pop up
on Hello Poetry
Outside is a beautiful spring day
workmen in shorts
but Cumbrian poet Keith
says:
“It's not spring yet
until midnight tonight
and if your clock is fast
you are in trouble”

My mind is like a fly
Landing here and there
And Everywhere
Perhaps the fly has more sense
There is a reason why
For the fly


I can go from here to there
And not really care
To know why
Unlike the fly
He is on a mission
To find food or a friend
My mind goes everywhere
For nothing in the end


       Sean Hunt  May 2017

Climb on my shoulders
breathe some air
While you're up there
say a prayer

I'll bear your weight
a little while
just another
little trial

I'll be fair
as fair as I can
standing here
your anchorman

In the end
sugar and spice
is the trend
and everything nice

Behind the projector sits a man
he is what he is, he does what he can
He sits behind me out of sight
Because of him my screen’s full of light
I keep forgetting about this friend
who runs the show beginning to end
Thinking the world in front is real
I shiver I shake and I squeal
I cry and I smile with utter delight
‘til it’s over, and somebody turns on the light
One day when the cinema falls to the ground
My friend will find another no doubt
If he has any movies left to show
they'll be seen on a screen, he'll find somewhere to go

From the ether-like home
of every thing
come ideas and plans
schemes and dreams
in the mind of man
Ephemeral origins
of war and peace
Tormented by
invisible causes
of things that are seen
by horrified eyes
The birthing on earth
of villains and heroes
saints and sinners
losers and winners
A circular journey
from death to birth
from here to hell
and back again
cursed and blessed
by amnesia
not knowing the game
Playing and losing
again and again
The same old refrain

The first wave
in the autumn
sea
came today
A morning frost
though slight
portends
the loss of light
and the coming coolness
of the night

And what is this which is about to become
a part of my weary world
a shard crashed from an angry hand
smashed on the floor by a girl

wounded by words she alone heard
echos from way down below
spoken by ghosts chained to the past
in the basement where nobody goes

She sees not me but someone else
who hurt her way back then
Things were done, words were said
today she hears them again

I beg her to stay in the salon
to love to laugh and to rest
instead of descending down the stairs
to greet those ancient guests

We climbed some hills
then descended deep into
wild woods in the valley
where
we spent some scary time
debating our crimes
before climbing out slowly

Where are we now, my love?

We stumbled fumbled and fell
into the raging river
full of rocks
scraped by stones
beaten by bits of trees
Desperate for air
we almost drowned
before we crawled out
to sit on solid  ground

Where are we now, my love?

I am wondering why
we are still savoring
sour-tasting memories
of war games

We were headed somewhere
Do you remember where?

In a dream one day
dressed in a soldier's kit
I was in a deep ditch
laying down in it
in a flow of water
that I could not feel
as a soldier sprayed bullets
that felt really real

It may have been a memory
for I was born after the war
then I may have been a soldier
on the other shore

I see a man standing, on a wave
Such a strange thing, he never falls in
And a candle flame, still in the wind
While the wind blows, and the trees sing
The clouds are white the sky is blue
The sky stays still while clouds move through
I see a man on a mountain, he’s so wise
He stopped seeing every thing with his eyes
He told everybody what he’d seen
Said if you can see nothing, something will be seen
The clouds are white the sky is blue
The sky stays still while clouds move through

       Sean Hunt   Dec 4 2016

Mission impossible once again
as our day darkens from disdain

Double trouble we're all in
as Boris twists and spins

One day he'll fall back in line
and straighten up his ****** spine

When the stones of time are turned
When our eyes are open wide
Will we see more horror
or will the tears have dried

Though the days will fly
They will seem so slow
Time won’t stay still
It comes and then it goes

In the coming year, we wonder what will be
When we look around the corner what it is we’ll see

If we hold lightly and
we don’t grasp
Time will slide by gracefully
Dissolving in the past

If we let the days flow
Like a river or a stream
We’ll hum the song that angels sing
During their dreams

Google hasn't helped
Sysygy
is still
quite a mystery to me
Although I've tried and tried
to understand
the meaning keeps on slipping
through the fingers
of my hands

I find
the glass is misty
in my mind
I would pay
in coins of gold
if I could make some sense
of it
and in a lilt
free my self from
intellectual innocence

Is reality real?
Policemen know
that witnesses
see
a different reality
"He did this
or she did that
I saw this
but she saw that
then this went here
or that went there 
What I saw was true
I swear"

All our eyes they say
work in the same way
but what we see
depends I believe
on what we ate
for breakfast
that day