correlation:the relationship
between two or tragedy
adds lily-

the trick is to recall her
first smile or an old
melody-

your song by elton
-or some dirge
by the lake´s side

picnic..
lemonade and tongue
or cyanide..

well,i say i could not
live without her
and god knows it´s

hard to live with her
changes and choice
take your pick

dear crow,
if lovers dream
riparian and joyfully
green-if the time

were but froze,
the ever passing stream..
if an instant or her smile remembered
was stilled..

a walk in whitening
clouds of breath
the old bridges!
and birds sing..

dear crow

what is arrogance surpassed?
minion,my opinion..
we will gather around the stone..

cry or laugh
what i think-you don´ t
have to pay..

it is free-where space man landed
to the gods of fertility we
sacrificed..

i will read and reject the oligarchy
once more free-high on this world
happy the feather..

  yours til the end-lily..

dear crow-
honey lasts and love
so-if your brains have fallen
out your snout and how.

l

ask me who i have talked to
lately lily preens her self
who-why should i tell you..

information is power-you see
the price of a hamburger at glastonbury-
16 pounds..

for tea i had a bowl of pasta and
sauce for a euro..i feel old crow-
then,we watched *******..

dear crow,
¨when a well packaged web
of lies has been sold gradually
to the masses over generations,
the truth will seem utterly pre-
posterous and it´s speaker a raving
lunatic¨-(i refer of course, to love..lily)

he thinks of himself:
crows are clever
crows mate for life
they can remember faces
and have regional dialects
we mourn..
generously endowed in
the cranium
they can use a black and
decker and hoard..but does
she love me..?

dear crow

on saturday..
prey for a sunny
day..

there will be fun
aplenty!
steve from radio

ding-**** is comparing
good to see old amigo
already crow..

i have a kaleidoscope
of butterflies in me belly!
all nerve ends

in the brain
thank bachus for the
cider tent..?!

love sent-lily..

re-boredom-lies at the heart
of all sin-if not all
then nearly all-and part
of the human tragedy..

i am never bored
i remember as a child
i was bored constantly
so i know what it is..

but it went away
don´t know how or where
glad it did..happy..
if i may say..lily..

what comes with ownership
is the pip-it is mine
it is yours

(we have war)..build your fence
high and keep them out but
there you are, with-in..

you, there in prison..
for flowers and vegetables
we sell ourselves..

i

o crow
you are a sweet-heart so
when i come across a dead bird

on the pavement
i have a broken heart
it has gone but to pardise..

meanwhile we have become
hustlers-a pitza or a book of poems
by crow called tomorrow..

but fall with love-to die
in love..perhaps a cat..
a suitable epithat-

ii

just like that..

dear crow

are you a man who is a
crow or
a crow who is man..?
(your go!)

dear lily

there is a begin
and end to everything
who knows..
like you-

i am everything in
the panthiest universe
love grows..
(your turn!)

dear crow

and what of death?
dear crow
what sayest thou?
(my little corvus..)

dear lily

we are the children of the
rainbow and we embrace all
the colour equal..?!

we all dance and sing equal
and death inevitable
death is-is good..

dear crow

what of fear?

dear lily

what of fear..

dear crow

i recall biking up a hill
stood out the saddle
giving it all..

when a peddle
came off
oof!

i went down like
a sack of potatoes
and lay supine

contemplating mother
sky..but as i said to a star
when she fell from

her chariot of  slaves-
it is not how you fall
but how you rise..

dear lily

wise words
in a world
patiently mad

are we fated
love or hated
happy or sad

good or bad
to fall-hit the deck
**** over ***

a peddle short
the farm bought
to drop like leaden

balloons- just an accident..
o lily i pick you up!
and hold you

in my loving wings and together
we soar!away from tired
unfetterd mishap..

atmosphere
i burned my ******* finger
did nt look any better
on paper..
but no crow,
you´re not getting any money..

a dim epicurean
fat and lazy..
(you will only want more)
no longer my window but
a closed door-
a vista innocent but a blank cheque..
not hope but to let..

yes,you will soon cease to be real
you won´t know how you feel
hello,my name is crow..
a nameless jackdaw
with plenty but no soul
25 and old..
i was once a diamond..

dear crow,

wish dream as below
so is above or so
a balance too

natural magic know
the imagination-the will
o..

the simple and beautiful
from the weather to a feather
humanity and co..

ii

you are a little boy
flapping his hands
at what he wants but doesn´t..

crying and crying..
you want mummy´s hand
you want to waste..

when you have what you wanted
o dear-you don´t want it..
lying on the floor in the supermarket..

driving in your little car
o peep-peep
look at me..!

exactly the same as a
bottle of coca-cola dark
and clear..

and crow, who is to blame?
someone over there!
poor dear..hamburger..

iii

still,there is redemption
an uncarved block-
a mirror..

there is always the sun
love literature and love
agree to differ..

others like you love
yourself..learning..
etc..

dear crow

i wished for nought and
that is what i got but
in nothing..

there are sweeties and love
laughter and faith
integrity..poetry..

dear crow
what of fear and death
all live the same but
death is singular..blue..

dear lily
how do we live the same?
we are part of a universal con-
scienceness?bless..green..

dear crow
yes,but to die is
our very own..there is no
blue print so..we are truly alone..
(and that is the good news..)..purple..

dear lily
what of fear and what of
euthanasia-(well, f
going to switzeland..i believe
there is a contract out..)

dear crow
the state and church will never
relinquish (us)
life is blessed..

dear lily
unless we go to war
to die in glory..
and what of fame?

i

sorry about that
a bottle of black cat
some absinthe-

artists can´t think..
we leave that to the scientists
and where has that got us..?

ii

thankyou for the feather and sack
i nailed it to the wall and put the feather
in the middle..

the collective unconscience and archetype
an example there of..
poem and garden..?

dear crow,

what we do to animals
we do to ourselves..
full marks for blake

though some will differ
i know no greater..
a vision of the angels..

dear crow,

you are naive now
my little fowl-
for every free nourishing

bowl(of soup) there is a sad
hamburger deflating in a polystyrene
container..somewhere..

profits before people-we
are to storm the bastille
naked starving before anything

is done..not that i preach
violence (only to be betrayed again?)
i suggest you plant a garden

and write a poem..yours,
lacking humanity and any sympathy
lily..

dear crow,

for some it´s all too much
and for some it is all to little
for some it is the middle..

for them a mad second
to them a long long time
you know..

take my underwear again
and it will be a police matter
little bird on the wire..

dear lily

a robin red breast in a cage
puts all heaven in a rage
a dove house filled of doves and pigeons
shudders hell thro all it´s regions
a dog starved at his masters gate
predicts the  ruin of state
a horse misused upon the road
calls to heaven for human blood
each outcry of the hunted hare
a fiber from the  brain does tare..

dear lily

i take it is a no
some time so-money
and it´s accessibility or
civilization..

for some it rains and they
hate and for some there is none
and they hate..
probably..but everyone must..

no excuses..need first..
eating-name-of-game
and a roof over one-
food and shelter-and as this
so-called civilization falls
like many before..

their difficulty more accute
homeless next to criminality
hunger tedious..?the fruit
we harvest bitter truths..
so what to do..

ii

crow wants mercy or
something-where has he been living-
some dwell on the stars..

he wants something for nothing..
why should i
why should you-

don´t give me that empathy
humanity dying strains of a
forgotten waltz..

i

with a merry whistle
she opens an epistle
with a kiss

from the crow (which
is a stalking avis-if
you did n´t know)

from hades-she *****
marmalade
from a dissolute thumb..

i love you til times end
come
i love you  until

no flower effloresce
-bloom
i love you

til the seas run
to ruin
i love you

to a deserts silence
(and to a lou reed
tune..)

i love you from the
first time and the last
hue

my eyes perceive..
what to do?
say lily, oh say,

you love me too!?
down here a lost soul
drop me a line-

your little bird
perhapsabsurd
but always yourn..

dear lily
some sweet imagery
it can be a temptation
-overcrowding..

you give the eternal
minimilism-metaphors
and simile-

kept simple..a word of
the day thrown in
(for my education)

references and natural
a winter´s path through
the barren way

remembrances!
the birds have the last word
or love..

dear lily

i´ll be there!
if there were no air
or gravity..

should i asphyxiate
or fall
the spirit will hover

like ancient ancestors
my love child-warrior-
a call !

caw!
above thy blessed
head and i shall be with thou

this world a test of faith
sow your seed
i will be there..

have gone out of order
must have order
the first and the last

the present and the past..
make the best of what we´ve got
nothing and nobody is useless..

we discover our inner nature through self-
reliance..how are we to find who we are?
a mote a star..

la la la
send more
blah blah blah..

if i had a garden
how happy i would be
how to begin..

some kind of general plan
there a flower here a tree
borders and what not..

perhaps a herb garden
a little glass house in
the corner then..

some potatoes and a
wheelbarrow
little bits of string

all colours!facing
the sun and something
for autumn..

winter blooms!
some wild grasses
for the little animals..

economy would be..
and i believe what they say
a rockery..

i

crow in his nest
reads-(but does she
love me..?)

he plucks a feather
from his heart
and writes another:

ii

dear lily
my heart burns
like sun-set clouds

acrobatic turns
o wild and free!
the cool breeze..

iii

unrequitted
love
(cool as worms!?)

the whole sky
ours!?
say you love me..

iv

now i must fly
your turn-
counting the hours

why
scented fern
your underwaer..

i don´t feel age-
i feel younger now
than when i was 21
there´s nothing like talking
******* when it comes to time..
they wonder if there is such a thing-
no time no space and so on..no waste of
money..no birthdays..or cake..

but i am miffed when they split
a second into tiny bits..i think we
were happier before-sunrise-sunset..
if we die in a second..when we were old
by forty..ding-****-****-crow..
o lord the stamping of the clock-card..

glastonbury seems an eternity
some old comment or timex
with a little nodding head of minnie-mouse
with a leather strap that left a mark on
my heart-that went where ever they went
somewhere..

dear lily,
i write a poem for you
appreciating your
thought-processes-caw!?

three notes never sounded
that good-i love you
i lick my finger and find a bud
i love you too-

the lotus open and in
the glories of morning
the milkman delivers
a happy whistle..

we have our coffee and
laugh at nothing..the birds
sing happily..
dull sun in your eyes..

ii

dear crow,
the ****** is an ambitious
genre
a thin line between
the lewd and cor-blimey..

some of the lines
are cringe-worthy..but of course
it is a question of balance..
a lapse into a carry on-

there is innocence and something
common place-a wave at bill is
a pretty touch..(he was very rude!)
the cliches we won´t go into..

and there is humour..i mean ***
is hilarious..the atmosphere of bonhomie
saves us..i can almost hear desert island discs
or perhaps chopin..

dear lily

of fame is comparable to
death
(in it´s singularity..)

heaven, a number of
whitest bathroom
to a hall of hell-

local celebrity, and
are you so and so?
did n´t you used to..?

and, of course, fear,
will you sign their ****
what no..?

fame, as mr bowie said..
and are we not the dead?
do we have a life..?

dear crow,

i distain the cult of celebrity!
but a girl has to make ends meet
my blackest raven!

i am reading at poetry etc in
the park
will you be there..?

lily ***** up-your face
i want money to waste
howl at the dogs, go!
called tomorrow..

all the days
flittered away
i will buy that though
i don´t want it
call it tomorrow..

yeah..what is now
i don´t know-yesterday was
poo-could n´t give it away
i want money
call tomorrow..

what for-big house
new car cruise-
nothing to lose
plenty to lose o
you and i we know..

thankyou for your honesty
sleeping on a crust and
aa is not for me, i need money..

i would sell my poetry
but they are so effing cheap
probably waiting for me to die..

which might not be far off
feathers and feet
in a neat little pile

my eyes open in a final vinelle
goodbye cruel world
with love i fell..

i never bothered with alcoholics
anonomous-no doubt a fine body
but listening to other´s problems

was  too depressing
no doubt there could be solace
but i thought i got into this mess alone

and i would get out of it alone
no doubt they had habits that i
could share say-group therapy

no doubt,ended in a big arguement
and increased the pressure
the problem was of course, boredom-

ii

boredom
when we were young
and when we are old

bored to sobs
man´s concentration so-
eqivalent to some of the more

advanced insects..the difference
is ******
i was bored

boredom is a tunnel we must
travail
when we were young  

they said machine
now,they say green
or telephone..

have we become too much
too much time
too much mind

an iron glove
a soft touch
the hieroglyphic sign

plain
pain
insane..

iii

lily, i have believed in balance
and acted accordingly or tried to
the stars above-the stars below..

so to the silence
my heart on the wing
your birdy song-

crow..

dear lily,

it is nice to write about
the past
the dice already cast-

i am safe at my terminal-
anything might have happened?!
and present a blast..

we look back and laugh..!
hardly recognising ourselves..
(was i really mad and suicidal..)

then,i had a glimse of you!
on your old bicycle-pressing
on..up a hill..

dear lily,
thoughts on love,
are we not just puppets
the laughing hand above?

we fumble and we bumble
the grease paint blinding
hiding to a bow
the saddened string

only to encore:
i wish we had never met..and write
dreadful poetry about fate
and love and hate..

the dreaded rational
i deserve it..the things
i have done..this show
every cynical maneuver

under the footlights
like a nose that grows with
every lie
goats and cows..mountains..

the scenery changes but
it remains
if only- if-if..
your grass-hopper lover..

dear lily,

?

di nada di nada
and perhaps that is true
our day to day behavior
eventually accrues

and becomes what we are..
but surprise like oo
when we glance in the mirror
like something new..