law of the land
outstretched arm
and pointin’ finger
never was one
to take that junk
where did it come from
if not from men
the same as me
stuck in their own
psychological funk?
betta 2 be a
planetary punk
naughty spirit
but free of those
who have no belief
in sun and moon
as the only powers
big enough for us
to bow down to
especially when
you consider
that the distance
from where we are
to the next awakened
star runs in the
miles to trillions
in other words - far
- from London Works
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Wizards of Paradox
the late time is sacred
time to act like a wizard,
transforming black particulars
into an aspect of blue –
the all knowing colour
centre of a thousand claps of thunder,
intangible esoteric darling
and happy go lucky conqueror,
in terms of understanding -
a process as elusive
as a Mahayana sutra spun dry in Zen,
best not to attempt
with a mind of A B C
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
time to act like a wizard,
transforming black particulars
into an aspect of blue –
the all knowing colour
centre of a thousand claps of thunder,
intangible esoteric darling
and happy go lucky conqueror,
in terms of understanding -
a process as elusive
as a Mahayana sutra spun dry in Zen,
best not to attempt
with a mind of A B C
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Simple Livin'
Karnataka beers
best in the world
when nicely chilled,
Haywards, Knock Out
Kingfisher Strong,
nuthin’ better
than drinking one
after the sun
has sung its song
with food to come
and after food sleep
- from Excavations Around the Sun
best in the world
when nicely chilled,
Haywards, Knock Out
Kingfisher Strong,
nuthin’ better
than drinking one
after the sun
has sung its song
with food to come
and after food sleep
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Right Eye Splinter
right eye splinter
splintering shock,
into his throat
in floods of visions
blessing and breathing
virulent tears,
bathed in astrology,
kissed in the praises
of funeral uncles
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
splintering shock,
into his throat
in floods of visions
blessing and breathing
virulent tears,
bathed in astrology,
kissed in the praises
of funeral uncles
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Tree of Stumble
tree of stumble
the virtuous path,
a made up nothing
of roots and gases
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
the virtuous path,
a made up nothing
of roots and gases
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Pinnacle
right in the heart again
of the golden mile
standin’ at the edge
of the pinnacle pit
at the end of the day
gotta rest a while
tools of trade displayed
beneath my feet in bits
digger heads discarded
beside the rubble piles,
apparent random circuits
pointing puncture tips
outta which iron twists
to the top of the sky
what’s underneath the ground
in this part of the town
is properly astounding,
the founding of a property
fit to sit in history which
the world will come to see
- from London Works
of the golden mile
standin’ at the edge
of the pinnacle pit
at the end of the day
gotta rest a while
tools of trade displayed
beneath my feet in bits
digger heads discarded
beside the rubble piles,
apparent random circuits
pointing puncture tips
outta which iron twists
to the top of the sky
what’s underneath the ground
in this part of the town
is properly astounding,
the founding of a property
fit to sit in history which
the world will come to see
- from London Works
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Over the Border
hit the ground runnin’
with the axe of
invisibility slung over
my shoulder
ready to contradict
the equation
of what it is you
are supposed to do
guess you might
say i hope to make
a lucky strike or
maybe you just
don’t realise that
these lands i’m in
over the border
are the height of
extraordinary puke
- London Works
with the axe of
invisibility slung over
my shoulder
ready to contradict
the equation
of what it is you
are supposed to do
guess you might
say i hope to make
a lucky strike or
maybe you just
don’t realise that
these lands i’m in
over the border
are the height of
extraordinary puke
- London Works
Old Graffiti
old graffiti takes me back
to the days of the tuneless whistle
where the name etched on the bark of a tree
might have been me in a previous
shedding of the spirit,
when it held the master key
to the dance of frosted fields
and preserved the earthly lineage
of formless gods and goddesses
through organic ritual struck in stone
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
to the days of the tuneless whistle
where the name etched on the bark of a tree
might have been me in a previous
shedding of the spirit,
when it held the master key
to the dance of frosted fields
and preserved the earthly lineage
of formless gods and goddesses
through organic ritual struck in stone
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Shipped Ripped Open
the ship
ripped open
mangled
broke her back
erupted
and
slowly sank
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
ripped open
mangled
broke her back
erupted
and
slowly sank
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 4)
jazz
sunset jazz
sundown jazz
track rollin’ radio jazz
spunky 60s jazz
when the drugs of experience
rumbled onto the land
of the never again
snapshot from
another time
miles
can only be talkin’
‘bout miles
miles ahead
away
gone
in ace black
trumpet visions
decades old
decades young
centuries too
old / young time
spun around
and inside out
in time out here
millennia are clearly
simply unmistakably
pulse-powered
infinities
totem pole immensities
sealed in shinin’ symphony
of red earth dazzle
to the extremities of space
which we walk upon
as wrapped around the finger
of how it is to be
to which i am a stranger -
nonsense maybe
but these track rollin’
pretension prizes
are what you now see
comin’ outta me
when will it stop?
when will it end?
anytime ya want it to
ain’t nuthin’ fancy
about these
scribbles soon to disappear
easy as abc
plyin’ cycles
of hungry determination
unrestrained
deservedly won’t do
life can kill ya
fill ya full
an’ overspill ya
best to take things as they come
but sometimes
even that philosophy
of the tin pot
don’t stop me from feelin’
all at sea
what did i do?
what have i done?
stranger to me
is what you see
dunno those outer edges
inner fences
not always under the
constant observation
needed to diminish
interferences
provocations
misunderstandings
misinterpretations
that can only end in
infamy
sunset jazz
sundown jazz
track rollin’ radio jazz
spunky 60s jazz
when the drugs of experience
rumbled onto the land
of the never again
snapshot from
another time
miles
can only be talkin’
‘bout miles
miles ahead
away
gone
in ace black
trumpet visions
decades old
decades young
centuries too
old / young time
spun around
and inside out
in time out here
millennia are clearly
simply unmistakably
pulse-powered
infinities
totem pole immensities
sealed in shinin’ symphony
of red earth dazzle
to the extremities of space
which we walk upon
as wrapped around the finger
of how it is to be
to which i am a stranger -
nonsense maybe
but these track rollin’
pretension prizes
are what you now see
comin’ outta me
when will it stop?
when will it end?
anytime ya want it to
ain’t nuthin’ fancy
about these
scribbles soon to disappear
easy as abc
plyin’ cycles
of hungry determination
unrestrained
deservedly won’t do
life can kill ya
fill ya full
an’ overspill ya
best to take things as they come
but sometimes
even that philosophy
of the tin pot
don’t stop me from feelin’
all at sea
what did i do?
what have i done?
stranger to me
is what you see
dunno those outer edges
inner fences
not always under the
constant observation
needed to diminish
interferences
provocations
misunderstandings
misinterpretations
that can only end in
infamy
Wake Up
to believe in the shapes
of the shadows cast by
a stone chosen at random
is simply preposterous,
there is nothing to pass
on to others with such
blind science my friend,
undertaken as it is
within the cacophonous
sounds of your superstitious
hopes that the spirits are
gonna bend their ears
and smile at you
thus proving you were right
and had it all worked out
according to an intricate
formula forged in the sheer
brilliance of your own mind,
no, none of that will work
the only cure for you is to
get yourself an education
in the hard facts of life
on planet earth you bum
- from London Works
of the shadows cast by
a stone chosen at random
is simply preposterous,
there is nothing to pass
on to others with such
blind science my friend,
undertaken as it is
within the cacophonous
sounds of your superstitious
hopes that the spirits are
gonna bend their ears
and smile at you
thus proving you were right
and had it all worked out
according to an intricate
formula forged in the sheer
brilliance of your own mind,
no, none of that will work
the only cure for you is to
get yourself an education
in the hard facts of life
on planet earth you bum
- from London Works
Risin' Prayers
Tibetan prayers risin’
from outta the south,
prayers you’d wanna hear
if you were gonna die,
face close to the mirror
scenes of what has been
the play of near an’ dear
articulated kinda queer
due to senses snuffin’ out,
prayers to ease you into
the state of in-between,
quiet closing of the door
tears peace sweet release
- from Excavations Around the Sun
from outta the south,
prayers you’d wanna hear
if you were gonna die,
face close to the mirror
scenes of what has been
the play of near an’ dear
articulated kinda queer
due to senses snuffin’ out,
prayers to ease you into
the state of in-between,
quiet closing of the door
tears peace sweet release
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Trust
gotta have trust
else you go bust
kickin’ in the dust
long desert highway
gotta see it my way
heard it all before
the skull an’ drum
monuments
heaped
like the ancients
under skies
of circle crows
heads dance
to the red sun
abandonment
of us without trust
- from Poems from the 90s
else you go bust
kickin’ in the dust
long desert highway
gotta see it my way
heard it all before
the skull an’ drum
monuments
heaped
like the ancients
under skies
of circle crows
heads dance
to the red sun
abandonment
of us without trust
- from Poems from the 90s
Black Sheep
don’t try to catch me
or i’ll huff and i’ll puff
until i blow your teeth away,
for i’m the stone at the bottom
of a sunken hollow
where no bloody shepherd’s
ever broke his leg
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
or i’ll huff and i’ll puff
until i blow your teeth away,
for i’m the stone at the bottom
of a sunken hollow
where no bloody shepherd’s
ever broke his leg
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Ben Hurt
the sun scorched hair
in witch-like locks
coarsest camel’s hair
coarse as Bedouin tent-cloth
his hands up as a signal
utterly boats dropped
repentance and baptism
stripped hissed crushed
crying in the wilderness
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
in witch-like locks
coarsest camel’s hair
coarse as Bedouin tent-cloth
his hands up as a signal
utterly boats dropped
repentance and baptism
stripped hissed crushed
crying in the wilderness
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Future of Pokes
others seem to carry on and on
see them out my window
enjoying life lovin’ the sun
how they do it i do not know
me i keep well in the shadows
there was a time once
when i would sing to the moon
but to do that now would destroy me
those days have gone
guess it must be the gradual
accumulation of all that has
gone before that has led me
to this which begs the question
as to what is to come
no ice cool rivers of plenty
or walks in the hills with
the airs of spring freedom
washing through my hair as if
it is my first day on earth
more like the spikes of age
pokin’ into my shoulders
they will poke me, poke me hard
each day spikes runnin’ riot
with their jokeless pokin’
- from London Works
see them out my window
enjoying life lovin’ the sun
how they do it i do not know
me i keep well in the shadows
there was a time once
when i would sing to the moon
but to do that now would destroy me
those days have gone
guess it must be the gradual
accumulation of all that has
gone before that has led me
to this which begs the question
as to what is to come
no ice cool rivers of plenty
or walks in the hills with
the airs of spring freedom
washing through my hair as if
it is my first day on earth
more like the spikes of age
pokin’ into my shoulders
they will poke me, poke me hard
each day spikes runnin’ riot
with their jokeless pokin’
- from London Works
The Absolute
lock me up if you want to
bruise my toes against the cold pillars
of medieval insanity,
but i’ll never forget the absolute
that trickles through my memory glands
like golden stone in morning glory,
guarded by skeletons
and worshipped by saints,
given over to me in a formless rite
of trick photography
by mother
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
bruise my toes against the cold pillars
of medieval insanity,
but i’ll never forget the absolute
that trickles through my memory glands
like golden stone in morning glory,
guarded by skeletons
and worshipped by saints,
given over to me in a formless rite
of trick photography
by mother
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Appalachian Moon
the moon there she goes
round the kaleidoscope
of earth spinning,
shadows falling
and disappearing ground,
all part of the play
of harvests and willow reeds,
frontiers and bongos
and Appalachian Indians yeah
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
round the kaleidoscope
of earth spinning,
shadows falling
and disappearing ground,
all part of the play
of harvests and willow reeds,
frontiers and bongos
and Appalachian Indians yeah
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
KSRTC Buses
let the warm wind wash across your face
and let your thoughts curl out of the side of your head
to disappear over the plains in a whisper,
peace arrives in the form of shining waters
but no sooner do you see them than they’re gone
replaced by onward meditations -
a bunch of bananas hanging from the front
of a roadside shack,
a herd of buffalo bossing it on the highway
unafraid of the metallic tonnage
that hurtles down towards them,
with more than a hint of jungle
hissing from the fenders,
the crunch of Shiva all too possible
on a beautiful sunny day
- from Poems from India 2002
and let your thoughts curl out of the side of your head
to disappear over the plains in a whisper,
peace arrives in the form of shining waters
but no sooner do you see them than they’re gone
replaced by onward meditations -
a bunch of bananas hanging from the front
of a roadside shack,
a herd of buffalo bossing it on the highway
unafraid of the metallic tonnage
that hurtles down towards them,
with more than a hint of jungle
hissing from the fenders,
the crunch of Shiva all too possible
on a beautiful sunny day
- from Poems from India 2002
Broken Country Horses
cottonwood and willow
difficult for the horse,
the rough living effect
curled up on the red arrows of the sun,
and somewhere a bird sang
some kind of strange steel –
abysmally
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
difficult for the horse,
the rough living effect
curled up on the red arrows of the sun,
and somewhere a bird sang
some kind of strange steel –
abysmally
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Temple
deity feet serenity
stills the inner shrine,
holy water ladled out
by hair cropped priests
drunk and brushed back
on bowing heads
as people push an’ shove
to stay in line,
shadowed by eternity
the mystery is sweet
- from Excavations Around the Sun
stills the inner shrine,
holy water ladled out
by hair cropped priests
drunk and brushed back
on bowing heads
as people push an’ shove
to stay in line,
shadowed by eternity
the mystery is sweet
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Delusion Punks
think you can communicate
with the machines
there must be witches blood
in your ancestry
if you buy into
such medieval stupidity,
believing you can also keep
the sun and the moon in
hemispherical balance
as they shine upon
your own little world
is nuthin’ short of heresy,
punks with the audacity
to suppose pentagrams
can be turned upside down
with no consequence
other than the strippin’
away of the barriers
to the lands of the truth
deserve to get punched
right out of the infinity shop
- from London Works
with the machines
there must be witches blood
in your ancestry
if you buy into
such medieval stupidity,
believing you can also keep
the sun and the moon in
hemispherical balance
as they shine upon
your own little world
is nuthin’ short of heresy,
punks with the audacity
to suppose pentagrams
can be turned upside down
with no consequence
other than the strippin’
away of the barriers
to the lands of the truth
deserve to get punched
right out of the infinity shop
- from London Works
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 5)
train is rockin’
more than i thought it would
filled with more old people
than i would have ever thought possible
for a train to be filled with
journeys -
lookin’ for the crescent moon of new ideas
new thinkin’
to fall down from outta the sky
an’ into my lap
but somehow i jus’ don’t think
it is gonna happen
anytime soon...
nuthin’ is gifted
you only get what you
are able to have in life
from outta yer own
excavations
exertions
exercises
in diggin’ out
invisible infinities
so i jus’ try to keep my
mind in equilibrium
accept the situation
as all is certain
as all is as it is meant to be
there are no mistakes in life
as some people say and yes bob
it is true sometimes
that you can see it that way
takin’ the motion
outta hand
sending the tanks in
onto a tankless land
is senseless
and here i was
wantin’ to sneak down the alley
of complete an’ utter
anonymity
before those hangman dreams
finally get me
what do i do
when i don’t think i
can make sense no more?
skeleton you
skeleton me
our bones wrapped
in spirit flag
cacophonies of
immortality –
how could it
ever not be?
yeah, could do that
the outer hand motion
but i don’t have to shut up
if i don’t wanna
‘coz i ain’t speakin’
to no one but me see
so if i wanna go on talkin’
then i am free
free to talk about
the red birds flyin’
low across these open plains
for a million years
down here
there has been a river
but these are now the
dust trail times
and all that you
can now see
are the sand-shape
territory testaments
to the vast inconceivable
aspects of this land
territory
terrestrial
terrain
terrifying
terrific
terr to the e-v-e-r-y
wanna leave tracks?
these are my tracks
no one will
read ‘em believe ‘em
but me
...hastily written down
in the middle of nowhere
on a straight dissection
of an awesome whack
symphony punch back
so easy for things to turn
outta key
what began as beautiful
in the mornin’ sun
ends up turnin’ into a
teatime tragedy
they were the better times in which to live
so say the people who are now old
decades of livin’ behind ‘em
though they still want more
and are prepared to put themselves
above others with curses
of compromised humanity
to get what they want
by no means uncommon
such infantilism
is so sad to see
- from Nullabor Song
more than i thought it would
filled with more old people
than i would have ever thought possible
for a train to be filled with
journeys -
lookin’ for the crescent moon of new ideas
new thinkin’
to fall down from outta the sky
an’ into my lap
but somehow i jus’ don’t think
it is gonna happen
anytime soon...
nuthin’ is gifted
you only get what you
are able to have in life
from outta yer own
excavations
exertions
exercises
in diggin’ out
invisible infinities
so i jus’ try to keep my
mind in equilibrium
accept the situation
as all is certain
as all is as it is meant to be
there are no mistakes in life
as some people say and yes bob
it is true sometimes
that you can see it that way
takin’ the motion
outta hand
sending the tanks in
onto a tankless land
is senseless
and here i was
wantin’ to sneak down the alley
of complete an’ utter
anonymity
before those hangman dreams
finally get me
what do i do
when i don’t think i
can make sense no more?
skeleton you
skeleton me
our bones wrapped
in spirit flag
cacophonies of
immortality –
how could it
ever not be?
yeah, could do that
the outer hand motion
but i don’t have to shut up
if i don’t wanna
‘coz i ain’t speakin’
to no one but me see
so if i wanna go on talkin’
then i am free
free to talk about
the red birds flyin’
low across these open plains
for a million years
down here
there has been a river
but these are now the
dust trail times
and all that you
can now see
are the sand-shape
territory testaments
to the vast inconceivable
aspects of this land
territory
terrestrial
terrain
terrifying
terrific
terr to the e-v-e-r-y
wanna leave tracks?
these are my tracks
no one will
read ‘em believe ‘em
but me
...hastily written down
in the middle of nowhere
on a straight dissection
of an awesome whack
symphony punch back
so easy for things to turn
outta key
what began as beautiful
in the mornin’ sun
ends up turnin’ into a
teatime tragedy
they were the better times in which to live
so say the people who are now old
decades of livin’ behind ‘em
though they still want more
and are prepared to put themselves
above others with curses
of compromised humanity
to get what they want
by no means uncommon
such infantilism
is so sad to see
- from Nullabor Song
Sleeping Skin
quiet now
whilst i thread
these purple corns
of Saskatchewan
through her fertile bones
that lie as
magnificent Martens
put out to rest
by Caligula’s guards
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
whilst i thread
these purple corns
of Saskatchewan
through her fertile bones
that lie as
magnificent Martens
put out to rest
by Caligula’s guards
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Tree in the Distance
tree in the distance
calling me,
dreams beyond it
forever free,
great cumulus confusion
stacks up;
horizon is bleached
wonky even,
colours of the spring season
- from London Works
calling me,
dreams beyond it
forever free,
great cumulus confusion
stacks up;
horizon is bleached
wonky even,
colours of the spring season
- from London Works
Mass Landings
some people landed on this planet
an’ hit the ground runnin’
knew exactly what they wanted to do
an’ nuthin was gonna stop ‘em,
others crashed on their backs
spent years if not their whole lives
tryin’ to figure where they were;
slow recovery from profoundest shock
- from Excavations Around the Sun
an’ hit the ground runnin’
knew exactly what they wanted to do
an’ nuthin was gonna stop ‘em,
others crashed on their backs
spent years if not their whole lives
tryin’ to figure where they were;
slow recovery from profoundest shock
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Chimney Stack
chimney stack
outta whack
twisted back
steeplejack,
brick ruin
curl o' smoke
risin' to the sky,
fairytale
cobblestone
moon dreams
yellow shade
on the perplexed side
with river rollin'
sweetly by
lay me down in a field
o' daisies
an' I'll turn to the stars
infinity gazin',
in love with the twinkle
before yawns come on
the wings of the
new dawn song
with lids closin'
slip slip away,
driftin' off
into pipe dreams
smokin' like a
chimney stack
- from London Works
outta whack
twisted back
steeplejack,
brick ruin
curl o' smoke
risin' to the sky,
fairytale
cobblestone
moon dreams
yellow shade
on the perplexed side
with river rollin'
sweetly by
lay me down in a field
o' daisies
an' I'll turn to the stars
infinity gazin',
in love with the twinkle
before yawns come on
the wings of the
new dawn song
with lids closin'
slip slip away,
driftin' off
into pipe dreams
smokin' like a
chimney stack
- from London Works
Chopped
rubbing my brow
as if in expectation
of a clear moon rising
to soften the blow,
a major piece of luck
propelling me forward
to a flower banner land
where sages in trees
gaze into the well of gazes
and keep on truckin’
would be nice but no
- from Poems from the 90s
as if in expectation
of a clear moon rising
to soften the blow,
a major piece of luck
propelling me forward
to a flower banner land
where sages in trees
gaze into the well of gazes
and keep on truckin’
would be nice but no
- from Poems from the 90s
Man and Ant
believed in the impossible
just like an expert practitioner
in the art of cranky rocks
is supposed to do,
but the invisible forces
of the universe
eventually crushed me
those helio punches
streamed thru’ my pores
a million miles a second,
there was never any question
they would not fail to subdue
a mere pip of a blip
of an invisible runt
whose planet trampin’
perambulations in
space-noose emptiness
meant absolutely nuthin’
more in essence than
the life of an ant
- from London Works
just like an expert practitioner
in the art of cranky rocks
is supposed to do,
but the invisible forces
of the universe
eventually crushed me
those helio punches
streamed thru’ my pores
a million miles a second,
there was never any question
they would not fail to subdue
a mere pip of a blip
of an invisible runt
whose planet trampin’
perambulations in
space-noose emptiness
meant absolutely nuthin’
more in essence than
the life of an ant
- from London Works
Go Away
don’t trouble me with your petty dreams
that never wake,
but lie asleep as if they’re lazy rats
in a field of weeds
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
that never wake,
but lie asleep as if they’re lazy rats
in a field of weeds
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Pulse Life
play in the sun
people smilin’
like they found treasure
like they will never
need to be told
they are looked after
when the game is done
pour cold water from
a plastic bucket
over my naked body,
thrill to the chill
an’ make myself clean
pick up a book
hit the sunset roof
coffee mug in hand
stones beneath my feet,
met with mantras
from two Tibetans
old but so complete
descend in the dark
for meditation
tuned to the pulse
beatin' far below,
be the watcher
as thoughts roll by
forever changin’
slide in an’ outta
dreamscape wonder
edge of flyin’
eatin’ into the I
when I is an ant
eatin’ into the why?
- from Excavations Around the Sun
people smilin’
like they found treasure
like they will never
need to be told
they are looked after
when the game is done
pour cold water from
a plastic bucket
over my naked body,
thrill to the chill
an’ make myself clean
pick up a book
hit the sunset roof
coffee mug in hand
stones beneath my feet,
met with mantras
from two Tibetans
old but so complete
descend in the dark
for meditation
tuned to the pulse
beatin' far below,
be the watcher
as thoughts roll by
forever changin’
slide in an’ outta
dreamscape wonder
edge of flyin’
eatin’ into the I
when I is an ant
eatin’ into the why?
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Open Your Eyes
you lay down on your side
and face the mother of the world
you think you know the answer
to so many hidden things,
but the sparks of anger which arose before
still quickly rise again,
so don’t think you’re knockin’ on the door
of any mystical garden,
beautiful girls make eyes at you -
can you refuse ?
- from Poems from India 2002
and face the mother of the world
you think you know the answer
to so many hidden things,
but the sparks of anger which arose before
still quickly rise again,
so don’t think you’re knockin’ on the door
of any mystical garden,
beautiful girls make eyes at you -
can you refuse ?
- from Poems from India 2002
Karma
we create a strong tide
which leaves in its wake
a future form of life
that must be partaken,
be it on the glory
of flower mountain south
or up the arse of hell
stinking loud and bloody
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
which leaves in its wake
a future form of life
that must be partaken,
be it on the glory
of flower mountain south
or up the arse of hell
stinking loud and bloody
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 6)
too much time
spent livin’
keepin’ my mouth shut
when i should have spoken
shadow doubts
now close in on me
from not makin’
those crucial decisions
when the winds were still
in my mind sails
to cut an’ run
now i only sit an stare
at the moon
thinkin’ it fancy
thinkin’ it is gonna deliver me
from the mundane monotony
that is the shape of things to come
streams
beams
seams of threads
used to think
it should all make sense
now I just chose
to sit an’ gaze
upon this desert
inconceivable
wrap arounds
on the plains of nowhere
manifestations
of impeccability
from the city struck
imagination pools
in which i swim
the hidin’ hounds
of the concentrated
implausibility
that all roads out there
lead to the one
into me
who is to say
what anything means?
those that adjudicate?
those who are commemorated
long after their sunrise / sunset
has come and gone?
me i follow the
pipeline of the light
straight as it comes
take the spine tank
cowboy lasso trail
into the bushy grasslands
bushes in which are hidin’
petroleum predestinations
of immensity
telegraph wires
stretched to all points
on the compass
water pools
in oceans flowin’ green
ridin’ those sun breezes
of continental vastness
out manoeuvred
by their own beauty
indescribable -
all of this i can see
but how i put it down
is wasted validity
an’ these compounded words
are the pale witness
to earthquakes
of a mind
deliriously cravin’
sanctuary
- from Nullabor Song
spent livin’
keepin’ my mouth shut
when i should have spoken
shadow doubts
now close in on me
from not makin’
those crucial decisions
when the winds were still
in my mind sails
to cut an’ run
now i only sit an stare
at the moon
thinkin’ it fancy
thinkin’ it is gonna deliver me
from the mundane monotony
that is the shape of things to come
streams
beams
seams of threads
used to think
it should all make sense
now I just chose
to sit an’ gaze
upon this desert
inconceivable
wrap arounds
on the plains of nowhere
manifestations
of impeccability
from the city struck
imagination pools
in which i swim
the hidin’ hounds
of the concentrated
implausibility
that all roads out there
lead to the one
into me
who is to say
what anything means?
those that adjudicate?
those who are commemorated
long after their sunrise / sunset
has come and gone?
me i follow the
pipeline of the light
straight as it comes
take the spine tank
cowboy lasso trail
into the bushy grasslands
bushes in which are hidin’
petroleum predestinations
of immensity
telegraph wires
stretched to all points
on the compass
water pools
in oceans flowin’ green
ridin’ those sun breezes
of continental vastness
out manoeuvred
by their own beauty
indescribable -
all of this i can see
but how i put it down
is wasted validity
an’ these compounded words
are the pale witness
to earthquakes
of a mind
deliriously cravin’
sanctuary
- from Nullabor Song
Monday, 27 December 2010
Christmas
drank a large bourbon
knock out punch
fell asleep on the sofa
tryin' to spy the moon
woke a little later
had to go upstairs
brushed teeth in a haze
hit the sack an' snored
no dreams I remember
just the warmth of night
delicious mortal warmth
of earthbound incarnation
how long will it last for
who is to ever know?
could be gone forever
in the curl of a toe
woke to the ringin' phone
Tamdin from India
wishing me Merry Christmas
it was Christmas Day
lay in a half haze
talked to her and the kids
nieces and nephews
all was well then I rose
got myself together
splash of water on my face
quick brush of the teeth
rituals then meditation
- from London Works
knock out punch
fell asleep on the sofa
tryin' to spy the moon
woke a little later
had to go upstairs
brushed teeth in a haze
hit the sack an' snored
no dreams I remember
just the warmth of night
delicious mortal warmth
of earthbound incarnation
how long will it last for
who is to ever know?
could be gone forever
in the curl of a toe
woke to the ringin' phone
Tamdin from India
wishing me Merry Christmas
it was Christmas Day
lay in a half haze
talked to her and the kids
nieces and nephews
all was well then I rose
got myself together
splash of water on my face
quick brush of the teeth
rituals then meditation
- from London Works
Lost Visions
danger is to go back
never repeat
just not possible to do
so you met the guru
in your trance
good for you
bet it was great
couldn't be topped
but try to go back
when the scent has gone
and trouble finds you
sure enough
can't be done
rules are rules
so sit it out
monotony street
familiar ground
the dull grey sounds
of your heartbeat
and nostril flares
pullin' the hot air
down to yer lungs
on and on
no more visions
they have gone
but don't you worry
for in the mist
in the haze
the worries
the pain
is where those visions
incubate long before
they come along
touchin’ yer head pole
and yer toe poles
with the precision
to prize you
out of your prison
into the prism
of enlightened wisdom
so carry on
- from London Works
never repeat
just not possible to do
so you met the guru
in your trance
good for you
bet it was great
couldn't be topped
but try to go back
when the scent has gone
and trouble finds you
sure enough
can't be done
rules are rules
so sit it out
monotony street
familiar ground
the dull grey sounds
of your heartbeat
and nostril flares
pullin' the hot air
down to yer lungs
on and on
no more visions
they have gone
but don't you worry
for in the mist
in the haze
the worries
the pain
is where those visions
incubate long before
they come along
touchin’ yer head pole
and yer toe poles
with the precision
to prize you
out of your prison
into the prism
of enlightened wisdom
so carry on
- from London Works
Process
writin' now dunno
when it will stop
precious raindrops
a festival of them
this ghost ran into
in their thousands
precious stones
precious rocks
all ya have to do
is slowly pick 'em up
lay them down again
re-arranged less strange
as long as ya got
that hunter lovin' hope
and the veneration to know
your lowly station
in this place of creation
nuthin' will bind you
to the pomposity wheel
that makes us old
smokin' on the pipes
of self-acclamation
- from London Works
when it will stop
precious raindrops
a festival of them
this ghost ran into
in their thousands
precious stones
precious rocks
all ya have to do
is slowly pick 'em up
lay them down again
re-arranged less strange
as long as ya got
that hunter lovin' hope
and the veneration to know
your lowly station
in this place of creation
nuthin' will bind you
to the pomposity wheel
that makes us old
smokin' on the pipes
of self-acclamation
- from London Works
This
never stop
once one gone
here comes
another
way it has
gotta be
no rest
no reason
for heaven
to be
for me
just more
words to clear
bring home
and polish up
this work
keep diggin'
with the will
underhill spades
nuthin' beats
this siftin'
as if you is
talkin' to
this land
of no writin'
shapes an' places
are really there
out of body
simply findin'
the best
configurations
of the mind
is to travel far
out of station
in the windy
sands of time
daytime kisses
there has to be
moon worship
to the sun
how you call it
don't matter
much to me
just do it
- from London Works
once one gone
here comes
another
way it has
gotta be
no rest
no reason
for heaven
to be
for me
just more
words to clear
bring home
and polish up
this work
keep diggin'
with the will
underhill spades
nuthin' beats
this siftin'
as if you is
talkin' to
this land
of no writin'
shapes an' places
are really there
out of body
simply findin'
the best
configurations
of the mind
is to travel far
out of station
in the windy
sands of time
daytime kisses
there has to be
moon worship
to the sun
how you call it
don't matter
much to me
just do it
- from London Works
Experiences
dunno where I am standing
high on the misty hill maybe
with a white sun shinin'
faintly thro' the atmosphere
sense of elevation gets stronger
want to circumnambulate
the shrine of the mind
at a million miles an hour
eject mantric configurations
reachin' across all directions
of bountiful space an' time
with spiritual intoxication
alight in the limitless now
past experience knows well
that without more practice
in the grind of flesh an' blood
this far horizon power kick
will later punch me in the guts
leave me weak unable to speak
an' to iron meditation out
incorrect application of
these roots of confusion
to the meaty heart of my life
is a mighty trick to avoid
- from London Works
high on the misty hill maybe
with a white sun shinin'
faintly thro' the atmosphere
sense of elevation gets stronger
want to circumnambulate
the shrine of the mind
at a million miles an hour
eject mantric configurations
reachin' across all directions
of bountiful space an' time
with spiritual intoxication
alight in the limitless now
past experience knows well
that without more practice
in the grind of flesh an' blood
this far horizon power kick
will later punch me in the guts
leave me weak unable to speak
an' to iron meditation out
incorrect application of
these roots of confusion
to the meaty heart of my life
is a mighty trick to avoid
- from London Works
The Moment
sat there like a statue
and statue sittin'
ain't a bad state
in which to be
felt my presence
had nowhere to go
was luckily tooled
for the here an' now
occasional happenstance
is the explanation
for what it had to be
and worth prayin' for
so tasty incantations
in praise chanted
spicy cacophonies
are certainly appropriate
- from London Works
and statue sittin'
ain't a bad state
in which to be
felt my presence
had nowhere to go
was luckily tooled
for the here an' now
occasional happenstance
is the explanation
for what it had to be
and worth prayin' for
so tasty incantations
in praise chanted
spicy cacophonies
are certainly appropriate
- from London Works
Infinity Punch
infinity punched me
square in the chest
sent me flyin' 50 feet
above and down the street
arms waving green eyes open
blowin' bubbles to the gods
in their blue sky habitations
infinity was kind to me
picked myself up in the way
of a punch empowered ghost
awash in black positivity
with extraordinary halos
ejecting like fires from
the form of my body shape
took a precise readin'
of my position to the sun
knew my time had not yet come
but the clock was tickin'
- from London Works
square in the chest
sent me flyin' 50 feet
above and down the street
arms waving green eyes open
blowin' bubbles to the gods
in their blue sky habitations
infinity was kind to me
picked myself up in the way
of a punch empowered ghost
awash in black positivity
with extraordinary halos
ejecting like fires from
the form of my body shape
took a precise readin'
of my position to the sun
knew my time had not yet come
but the clock was tickin'
- from London Works
Journey Fish
an ashram of the heart
flags flyin' banners flowin' down
bouncing above and on the ground
red blue green yellow white
residues of the radiance
appropriately cast in the halos
and the shadow emanations
of my earthly sentience
at the bottom of the hill
the cool waters flowed from
hidden valley sources yonder
dressed in pipe organ wildness
of highest mountain cold
from donkey trail destinations
bringing down the journey fish
swimming beneath and way beyond
all kind of conceptualization
which can get complicated
those journey fish keep it simple
and for that I respect them
would pull them if I could
into my ashram of the heart
- from London Works
flags flyin' banners flowin' down
bouncing above and on the ground
red blue green yellow white
residues of the radiance
appropriately cast in the halos
and the shadow emanations
of my earthly sentience
at the bottom of the hill
the cool waters flowed from
hidden valley sources yonder
dressed in pipe organ wildness
of highest mountain cold
from donkey trail destinations
bringing down the journey fish
swimming beneath and way beyond
all kind of conceptualization
which can get complicated
those journey fish keep it simple
and for that I respect them
would pull them if I could
into my ashram of the heart
- from London Works
Dunce to the Spiritual Daylight
talk to myself, don't wanna
but these fantasy declarations
are surely indicative
of an underperformed ratio
from the bodyless reality
where true knowledge lies
sure as a pie is nice
an' Spock is a captain
but by the love of a horse kid
I just can't seem to shake 'em
tracked through the forests
of winter intoxication
tried to pin 'em on this an' that
but under closer examination
was unable to resist
waving my hands in the air
in an open salutation to the
cylindrical pump wash
manifestations of the
what the hell is goin' on
in the fucked up debris of
those mind projector towers
where day is always night
on a dark powered arc
all power to the dunce in me
the head spliced energy fool
who runs away from wisdom
and can't seem to knuckle down
to the puff and tickle
of a normal life lived in
no danger of twitchy ascents
up the pole of hopelessness
with the cucumber devil
in search of the essence
and all manner of other funny
peculiar deviations
- from London Works
but these fantasy declarations
are surely indicative
of an underperformed ratio
from the bodyless reality
where true knowledge lies
sure as a pie is nice
an' Spock is a captain
but by the love of a horse kid
I just can't seem to shake 'em
tracked through the forests
of winter intoxication
tried to pin 'em on this an' that
but under closer examination
was unable to resist
waving my hands in the air
in an open salutation to the
cylindrical pump wash
manifestations of the
what the hell is goin' on
in the fucked up debris of
those mind projector towers
where day is always night
on a dark powered arc
all power to the dunce in me
the head spliced energy fool
who runs away from wisdom
and can't seem to knuckle down
to the puff and tickle
of a normal life lived in
no danger of twitchy ascents
up the pole of hopelessness
with the cucumber devil
in search of the essence
and all manner of other funny
peculiar deviations
- from London Works
Sour Dusk Dreams
sometimes sleepy as a fox
dunno what comes over me
london livin' and the strain it can become?
guess I just wish I was more of a handy man
able to get up from the table
and turn his hand to something, anything
that was gonna keep the fires of life
sill burnin' inside him
when it comes to those kinda things
guess it has to be said there
ain't been much in the way of communication
between me and the gods of those
particular preoccupations
now too many years have flowed
down the goddam pipe for there to be
any blazing fields of concentrated learning
the depositing of a new kinda knowledge
to keep me on the straight the narrow
and out of further trouble
- from London Works
dunno what comes over me
london livin' and the strain it can become?
guess I just wish I was more of a handy man
able to get up from the table
and turn his hand to something, anything
that was gonna keep the fires of life
sill burnin' inside him
when it comes to those kinda things
guess it has to be said there
ain't been much in the way of communication
between me and the gods of those
particular preoccupations
now too many years have flowed
down the goddam pipe for there to be
any blazing fields of concentrated learning
the depositing of a new kinda knowledge
to keep me on the straight the narrow
and out of further trouble
- from London Works
Sunday, 26 December 2010
Ascetics Meeting Place
the ascetics meeting place
many stories were told on that
scarred and rutted ground
amazing feats were performed even
and all on a diet of 2 & 20 rice grains
in the shadows of the trees
there was the taste of revelation
the high hand of god no less
flexing the muscles
of excavated spirit
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
many stories were told on that
scarred and rutted ground
amazing feats were performed even
and all on a diet of 2 & 20 rice grains
in the shadows of the trees
there was the taste of revelation
the high hand of god no less
flexing the muscles
of excavated spirit
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 7)
slept the light of a sleep
that you only get
on the plains of mystery
lands of flatness
woke to mist on the railway
no sign of humanity
other than the tracks
we be travellin’ on
no animals
no birds
just scrub
the good god scrub
of a church less land
mile upon mile
to that tree in the distance
flat white sky
sun ball round
silver perfect to the east
smile and burn
soon it will turn
the mornin’ mist away
then back to the blue
summary heat
in scenery sheets
gazin’ upon lands stretched
to the far horizons
all is empty
emptier if possible
than should ever be
12 hours ago
when the day rolled around
into night
the plains disappeared
and we only had these people
on the train for company
- old timers
chime buddies
shadow punchin’
who have lived most of their time
in the last century
wobblin’ round
slowly they talk to each other
and not to me –
just how it should be
so 21st century
dots on the horizon
plenty of nuthin’ to see
empty sweeps
rocks in the open
red stretched soil tracks
low lyin’cloud
made for the days of bounty
when that mythological hunter
who only ever did exist
in the depths of my imagination
side collided
and super-sized
into the strange idea
that all of this was
alien implanted and
exactly as it was meant to be
trees the size of bushes
scrunch punched
low upon the territory
rocks casually strewn like sin
upon the open spin
how they ever got here
who will ever know?
it is a mystery to me
need to ask those
who have the knowledge
of the rise an’ fall
of this planet formation
and disintegration
need to sit with them
ride their waves
of explanation
but first i have to fly
to find them high
up in the sky
place names
here mean little
more than nuthin’
because they
are nuthin’
points on the line
dots on the track
dustbowl pins
stakes in the open
where in the land
of nowhere to be seen
a broken fence is a form
of celebration
clouds floatin’
seas of them
atmospherically
above the plains
in shadow pool
formation
banked stacked
over twenty deep
in air terraces
turned inside out
rusted drums
left to stand
around every
coupla miles
oil drums
drummed out
side fallen
in symphony
with the rocks
and stunted trees
punch bunched
on the empty
drums of rust
decoration
radio jazz
railroad jive
slight sense of
elevation
from radio jazz
playin’ to the nation
horizon shuffle
engine tug
pullin’ us along
but lest we forget
out here there is
no destination
time curved
soil packed
red to the limits
of how far the eye can see
premonitory dreams
fresh as milk
where there is no adulteration
are booked for me
that you only get
on the plains of mystery
lands of flatness
woke to mist on the railway
no sign of humanity
other than the tracks
we be travellin’ on
no animals
no birds
just scrub
the good god scrub
of a church less land
mile upon mile
to that tree in the distance
flat white sky
sun ball round
silver perfect to the east
smile and burn
soon it will turn
the mornin’ mist away
then back to the blue
summary heat
in scenery sheets
gazin’ upon lands stretched
to the far horizons
all is empty
emptier if possible
than should ever be
12 hours ago
when the day rolled around
into night
the plains disappeared
and we only had these people
on the train for company
- old timers
chime buddies
shadow punchin’
who have lived most of their time
in the last century
wobblin’ round
slowly they talk to each other
and not to me –
just how it should be
so 21st century
dots on the horizon
plenty of nuthin’ to see
empty sweeps
rocks in the open
red stretched soil tracks
low lyin’cloud
made for the days of bounty
when that mythological hunter
who only ever did exist
in the depths of my imagination
side collided
and super-sized
into the strange idea
that all of this was
alien implanted and
exactly as it was meant to be
trees the size of bushes
scrunch punched
low upon the territory
rocks casually strewn like sin
upon the open spin
how they ever got here
who will ever know?
it is a mystery to me
need to ask those
who have the knowledge
of the rise an’ fall
of this planet formation
and disintegration
need to sit with them
ride their waves
of explanation
but first i have to fly
to find them high
up in the sky
place names
here mean little
more than nuthin’
because they
are nuthin’
points on the line
dots on the track
dustbowl pins
stakes in the open
where in the land
of nowhere to be seen
a broken fence is a form
of celebration
clouds floatin’
seas of them
atmospherically
above the plains
in shadow pool
formation
banked stacked
over twenty deep
in air terraces
turned inside out
rusted drums
left to stand
around every
coupla miles
oil drums
drummed out
side fallen
in symphony
with the rocks
and stunted trees
punch bunched
on the empty
drums of rust
decoration
radio jazz
railroad jive
slight sense of
elevation
from radio jazz
playin’ to the nation
horizon shuffle
engine tug
pullin’ us along
but lest we forget
out here there is
no destination
time curved
soil packed
red to the limits
of how far the eye can see
premonitory dreams
fresh as milk
where there is no adulteration
are booked for me
Winter River
faint winter sun
white sky ball
above the river
precious extreme
a reflection of beauty
unexplainable
incredible pieces
strung together
on the rise and fall
of the water flow
folded palms my
supplications
to winter sun
whispered prayers
upon tide waters
river shore standin'
after the bridge
and down the steps
in the sun shine
all manner of rocks
shells an' the debris
from the city
hold my mind in
high fascination
the ducker
the diver
the king of garble
on garbage streams
hoping for an
ancient hand to rise
out of the mud
and give me a piece
of Roman gold
before slidin’ back
back into the
unknowable brown
wet sticky goo
such is I
fantasy guy
dressed in black
the London smudge
all over me
countin’ on
eternity to prove
i had the correct
hypothesis
all these years ago
- from London Works
white sky ball
above the river
precious extreme
a reflection of beauty
unexplainable
incredible pieces
strung together
on the rise and fall
of the water flow
folded palms my
supplications
to winter sun
whispered prayers
upon tide waters
river shore standin'
after the bridge
and down the steps
in the sun shine
all manner of rocks
shells an' the debris
from the city
hold my mind in
high fascination
the ducker
the diver
the king of garble
on garbage streams
hoping for an
ancient hand to rise
out of the mud
and give me a piece
of Roman gold
before slidin’ back
back into the
unknowable brown
wet sticky goo
such is I
fantasy guy
dressed in black
the London smudge
all over me
countin’ on
eternity to prove
i had the correct
hypothesis
all these years ago
- from London Works
Skeletons
skeleton hands, figure it out
skeleton fingers beneath this flesh
skeleton faces, skeleton heads
an' all the stuff coverin’ them
skeleton teeth have a skeleton chat
chewin' the fat about this an' that
lookin' out at the reelin' sun
bangin' on the infinity drum
skeleton life skills not won easy
show us where you are from
fantasy shapes on the earth crust
every time swing into mind
- from London Works
skeleton fingers beneath this flesh
skeleton faces, skeleton heads
an' all the stuff coverin’ them
skeleton teeth have a skeleton chat
chewin' the fat about this an' that
lookin' out at the reelin' sun
bangin' on the infinity drum
skeleton life skills not won easy
show us where you are from
fantasy shapes on the earth crust
every time swing into mind
- from London Works
Carrots
i was never a forward boy
and i’m not not a forward man,
just a bloke with a stutter
and a garage full of carrots
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
and i’m not not a forward man,
just a bloke with a stutter
and a garage full of carrots
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Time on Earth
some of us have all the art
to show the stripes of the heart
with imaginative recreation
the inner peculiar laid bare
in a way that is understood,
the rest of us struggle on through
one of the countless numbers
carryin’ rag bag collections
of hopeless dreams an’ schemes
that will never bear fruit
- from London Works
to show the stripes of the heart
with imaginative recreation
the inner peculiar laid bare
in a way that is understood,
the rest of us struggle on through
one of the countless numbers
carryin’ rag bag collections
of hopeless dreams an’ schemes
that will never bear fruit
- from London Works
Leprechaun Falls
i'm looking at the sky
studying the signs
hangman crossroads
way on down the line,
they say there ain't faith no more
maybe there never was
and now the fires are burnin'
in the land of because
- from London Works
studying the signs
hangman crossroads
way on down the line,
they say there ain't faith no more
maybe there never was
and now the fires are burnin'
in the land of because
- from London Works
Circle of Rocks
slammed to the muzzle hills
in a wild flat canyon,
the chuckled colour of desert
motionless breathless chuckle,
and within the circle
the crushed creosote circle,
rock tearing rifle grass
planted solid against the sky
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
in a wild flat canyon,
the chuckled colour of desert
motionless breathless chuckle,
and within the circle
the crushed creosote circle,
rock tearing rifle grass
planted solid against the sky
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Saturday, 25 December 2010
Subjugated Highway
the road lay stripped
into the distant haze,
crouchin’ down beside it
past infamies came
flooding through,
a misappropriation
of destiny
heat seekin’ and
demonic tricks,
sentinel incontinence
of the gravest kind;
raisin’ prayers
the only thing to do
to see the river
where right an’ wrong
flow into one
subjugated
pool of holy cool
- from Excavations Around the Sun
into the distant haze,
crouchin’ down beside it
past infamies came
flooding through,
a misappropriation
of destiny
heat seekin’ and
demonic tricks,
sentinel incontinence
of the gravest kind;
raisin’ prayers
the only thing to do
to see the river
where right an’ wrong
flow into one
subjugated
pool of holy cool
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Wheatfield Dreams
often dream of singing a song,
playing the guitar sideways
across wheat fields at dawn,
but the reality is a dirty street
and me walking beside the traffic
with the mind of a blinkin’ blonkin’
nincompoop
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
playing the guitar sideways
across wheat fields at dawn,
but the reality is a dirty street
and me walking beside the traffic
with the mind of a blinkin’ blonkin’
nincompoop
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Midnight Garden Song
driftin' onto the high plains of life
with my face beamnin'
how can i not have a cheeky grin
with a little bit o' twinkle
when me ticker throbs with
solar evanescence
bringin' on visions of immortality
an' astounding climbs into the
hidden mountains of the mind
yeh mon, 'ow can i not be grinnin'?
driftin' onto the high plains of life
sun beautiful sun falls lower in the sky
an' leaves that are picked up by the wind
get thrust up into the empty space of air,
above the cars and above the people
with their conglomerate confusions
that have all but annexed
this cherishing o' da source
- the empty incredible.
jus' me then, a ghost eternal,
talkin' to ghosts an'
walkin' through it all with,
if i have ta be honest,
not much to offer those who
really need help
at any given point in space an' time;
only this intoxication
pushin' me to write down any ole'
stream of words that comes to me -
cherry pickin' in the midnight garden
- from London Works
with my face beamnin'
how can i not have a cheeky grin
with a little bit o' twinkle
when me ticker throbs with
solar evanescence
bringin' on visions of immortality
an' astounding climbs into the
hidden mountains of the mind
yeh mon, 'ow can i not be grinnin'?
driftin' onto the high plains of life
sun beautiful sun falls lower in the sky
an' leaves that are picked up by the wind
get thrust up into the empty space of air,
above the cars and above the people
with their conglomerate confusions
that have all but annexed
this cherishing o' da source
- the empty incredible.
jus' me then, a ghost eternal,
talkin' to ghosts an'
walkin' through it all with,
if i have ta be honest,
not much to offer those who
really need help
at any given point in space an' time;
only this intoxication
pushin' me to write down any ole'
stream of words that comes to me -
cherry pickin' in the midnight garden
- from London Works
Bloody Holy
so many people go to the east
searching for religion,
and there they find their exotic bag
of rituals mantras and prayers
that with the greed of gold rush men
they grasp to take back home again,
where you can be sure the stupid mothers
will be just as blind as before
to the living blood of the holy present
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
searching for religion,
and there they find their exotic bag
of rituals mantras and prayers
that with the greed of gold rush men
they grasp to take back home again,
where you can be sure the stupid mothers
will be just as blind as before
to the living blood of the holy present
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 8)
rock collapse
swing darlings
millions of years
in perpetuation
their atomic crunch
denser in station
than plasma of suns
tiny mimics
though they are
of those mighty
solar pumps
signpost infatuation
or however you wish
to describe the
cosmic carpentry
with all its inconceivable
manifestations
complex mathematical
formulation
quite acceptable
if the right equation
is part of your
imagination
beautiful lonely cloud
your tracks will
only last for so long
and then they will
be gone like jazz
faded waves
no memory traces
tears which will one day
rain down and ruin
the carnival
are your babies
deep in the middle
of mystery places
weather changin’
rearrangin’
something new
endless
regurgitation
land water air
these heavenly horizons
punched back
as far as i can see
space on earth
here we can
stand the stretchin’
accommodation
to the southern dream
as bells ring empty
exhortations
to contemplate
meditate
and pull apart
the bars of the heart
excavation
diggin’ in
open out
down an’ down
circling deep
power punched
hand of man
precious cargo
pulled back up
particle prize
awesome
penetration
24/7
gold shake
but immense crust
devastation
is the price
powder puff stuff
day in day out
beers
bordellos
signals fried
far away
from any other
kinda country
in cowboy stretch
immensity
run to the coast
12 hr time bubble
highway ridin’
road house / road horse
inhabitations
spine tanked
then you rest
country bop
railroad radio
land – pancake flat
makes me wanna
start imaginin’
how far ya have ta go
to reach new territory
turn yer head north
put one foot in front
of the other
an’ start walkin’
eventually for sure
you will arrive
at those rocks
worth of currency
for any population
but how far?
fires under stars
in spiral climbs
special times
when the moon is right
in its turnin’
an’ we are waitin’
for the knowledge
of how it all rides
to fall from outta the sky
an’ hit the crust
bounce in the dust
to be picked up
without any fuss
by a worthy claimant
but ya know
that kinda show
was many years ago
if ever in fact
maybe jus’ again
my imagination
- from Nullabor Song
swing darlings
millions of years
in perpetuation
their atomic crunch
denser in station
than plasma of suns
tiny mimics
though they are
of those mighty
solar pumps
signpost infatuation
or however you wish
to describe the
cosmic carpentry
with all its inconceivable
manifestations
complex mathematical
formulation
quite acceptable
if the right equation
is part of your
imagination
beautiful lonely cloud
your tracks will
only last for so long
and then they will
be gone like jazz
faded waves
no memory traces
tears which will one day
rain down and ruin
the carnival
are your babies
deep in the middle
of mystery places
weather changin’
rearrangin’
something new
endless
regurgitation
land water air
these heavenly horizons
punched back
as far as i can see
space on earth
here we can
stand the stretchin’
accommodation
to the southern dream
as bells ring empty
exhortations
to contemplate
meditate
and pull apart
the bars of the heart
excavation
diggin’ in
open out
down an’ down
circling deep
power punched
hand of man
precious cargo
pulled back up
particle prize
awesome
penetration
24/7
gold shake
but immense crust
devastation
is the price
powder puff stuff
day in day out
beers
bordellos
signals fried
far away
from any other
kinda country
in cowboy stretch
immensity
run to the coast
12 hr time bubble
highway ridin’
road house / road horse
inhabitations
spine tanked
then you rest
country bop
railroad radio
land – pancake flat
makes me wanna
start imaginin’
how far ya have ta go
to reach new territory
turn yer head north
put one foot in front
of the other
an’ start walkin’
eventually for sure
you will arrive
at those rocks
worth of currency
for any population
but how far?
fires under stars
in spiral climbs
special times
when the moon is right
in its turnin’
an’ we are waitin’
for the knowledge
of how it all rides
to fall from outta the sky
an’ hit the crust
bounce in the dust
to be picked up
without any fuss
by a worthy claimant
but ya know
that kinda show
was many years ago
if ever in fact
maybe jus’ again
my imagination
- from Nullabor Song
Stardust
see the rinse of particles
floating before my eye,
too beautiful to stay within
the borders of any ghostly
explanation,
we’re talking about the land of the sun
without any dykes to speak of
because the hills rise quickly
and if you’ve got the air
you can take a path up high,
puff puff puff
you might think you’re gonna die,
but the trick is to just keep sweepin’
until it all becomes clear
that the crows and the ravens
and the countless chores of the people
down below
were all cast out of the same unblinking eye
a billion years before the earth
was even thought of
- from Poems from India 2002
floating before my eye,
too beautiful to stay within
the borders of any ghostly
explanation,
we’re talking about the land of the sun
without any dykes to speak of
because the hills rise quickly
and if you’ve got the air
you can take a path up high,
puff puff puff
you might think you’re gonna die,
but the trick is to just keep sweepin’
until it all becomes clear
that the crows and the ravens
and the countless chores of the people
down below
were all cast out of the same unblinking eye
a billion years before the earth
was even thought of
- from Poems from India 2002
Friday, 24 December 2010
Python Fire
a lose rhythm of pipe an' drum
floats like a holy trail inside my head
taking me anywhere i don’t care,
maybe to a lost holiday in a distant trance
or to the pure imagination of a desert land
populated by a random circuit of abandoned cars,
it doesn’t matter so long as there’s
the taste of the city within me lifted from the seas
of memory churches flowing through my heart
like a fresh mountain fire
- from Poems from the 90s
floats like a holy trail inside my head
taking me anywhere i don’t care,
maybe to a lost holiday in a distant trance
or to the pure imagination of a desert land
populated by a random circuit of abandoned cars,
it doesn’t matter so long as there’s
the taste of the city within me lifted from the seas
of memory churches flowing through my heart
like a fresh mountain fire
- from Poems from the 90s
Station Life
station life anger only brings
diseased twitching
to your hard as rubber heart,
and old station lust
is nothing but the bitter bleed
of your grunting zones,
pipes that need stitching
from too much scrub an’ dust
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
diseased twitching
to your hard as rubber heart,
and old station lust
is nothing but the bitter bleed
of your grunting zones,
pipes that need stitching
from too much scrub an’ dust
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Settlement Dream
awoke from a dream
of a wedding gone wrong
nite time pantomime
film show tragedy
blast from the past
signals sent to me
from those who were known
in skeletal infancy
midnight prayers
animal husbandry
years of confusion
ostensibly behind me
flat on my back
owls hoot creepily
it’s time to leave
cowbell territory
- from Excavations Around the Sun
of a wedding gone wrong
nite time pantomime
film show tragedy
blast from the past
signals sent to me
from those who were known
in skeletal infancy
midnight prayers
animal husbandry
years of confusion
ostensibly behind me
flat on my back
owls hoot creepily
it’s time to leave
cowbell territory
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Hooligan Deceased
loudmouth hooligan
walking down the street
wish i was tough enough
to give the rough a mincing,
or dark of heart enough
to conjure up erupted grief
in the after-death
non-physical heart of him
- from Poems from the 90s
walking down the street
wish i was tough enough
to give the rough a mincing,
or dark of heart enough
to conjure up erupted grief
in the after-death
non-physical heart of him
- from Poems from the 90s
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 9)
rigours of the train
shake an’ shuffle
ridin’ through terrain
with not much to see
if your sight is ordinary
otherwise there is plenty
finer details can please
more than you ever thought
possible before
makin’ sense outta lands
of little sensory
information
apart from –
soil
rocks
bushes
low clouds flyin’
across an uncontrollably
vast and empty sky
shadow pools upon the
earth beneath them
signs of activity
are what you wish for
but the action lies
in another sense
altogether
big time action
planet shifts
take millennia
of cycle shreds
as we roll
onto another
turn of the mighty
earth wheel
terrestrial space rock
again and again
on and on
and so it shall be
until big brother sun
eventually goes pop
but no need
to attempt to
anticipate
the as and when
of such events as that
way too big
as they are for
flesh an’ bone
incarnations
to decipher
without goin’
round the bend
fenced as we are
within
possibilities
we are not meant to
comprehend
abandoned town
people gone
nuthin’ to sustain
their remainin’
dust tracks
spin away
leadin’ into nuthin’
big fat nuthin’
when dust settles
only the breeze
for company
in the afternoons
played out
over an’ over again
shapes in the distance
indicate nuthin’
but haze illusion
tricks of the light
sleights of hand
like magical cockatoos
of the south lands
rollin’ away
to painted nowhere
in geomantic
transubstantiation
stones all around -
pebbles
boulders
rolled here
from god knows where
only god don’t know
for this land was here
long before those
snake shuffle
human philosophies
came on the scene
hungry in their craziness
diseased as they were
with physic imbalance
indicative of the terror
terrestrial
habitation
with no seeming
explanation
for the scenery curves
and seasonal pulses
that devastate
and re-create in
equal measure
engenders in ya
yes, before those
snake guffers
all this was still here
- from Nullabor Song
shake an’ shuffle
ridin’ through terrain
with not much to see
if your sight is ordinary
otherwise there is plenty
finer details can please
more than you ever thought
possible before
makin’ sense outta lands
of little sensory
information
apart from –
soil
rocks
bushes
low clouds flyin’
across an uncontrollably
vast and empty sky
shadow pools upon the
earth beneath them
signs of activity
are what you wish for
but the action lies
in another sense
altogether
big time action
planet shifts
take millennia
of cycle shreds
as we roll
onto another
turn of the mighty
earth wheel
terrestrial space rock
again and again
on and on
and so it shall be
until big brother sun
eventually goes pop
but no need
to attempt to
anticipate
the as and when
of such events as that
way too big
as they are for
flesh an’ bone
incarnations
to decipher
without goin’
round the bend
fenced as we are
within
possibilities
we are not meant to
comprehend
abandoned town
people gone
nuthin’ to sustain
their remainin’
dust tracks
spin away
leadin’ into nuthin’
big fat nuthin’
when dust settles
only the breeze
for company
in the afternoons
played out
over an’ over again
shapes in the distance
indicate nuthin’
but haze illusion
tricks of the light
sleights of hand
like magical cockatoos
of the south lands
rollin’ away
to painted nowhere
in geomantic
transubstantiation
stones all around -
pebbles
boulders
rolled here
from god knows where
only god don’t know
for this land was here
long before those
snake shuffle
human philosophies
came on the scene
hungry in their craziness
diseased as they were
with physic imbalance
indicative of the terror
terrestrial
habitation
with no seeming
explanation
for the scenery curves
and seasonal pulses
that devastate
and re-create in
equal measure
engenders in ya
yes, before those
snake guffers
all this was still here
- from Nullabor Song
Oink of Sinbad
clouds divide
stars appear
shinin’ bright
seem so near,
on the roof
with achin’ feet
oink of Sinbad
drinking beer
a nice retreat
- from Excavations Around the Sun
stars appear
shinin’ bright
seem so near,
on the roof
with achin’ feet
oink of Sinbad
drinking beer
a nice retreat
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Mithras
on the walbrook
with the mornin’ sun
breath of soldiers
fillin’ the air,
their prayers to mithras
come to deliver on
countless military
supplications
chanted with iron
dedication
in his direction
autocrat of light
to ranked centurions
city stuck or
makin’ their way north
to the misty wall
made by slaves in the
shade of the gaze of
emperor hadrian
millennia later
far beneath the stones
a river daily weeps
for those mithras days
way down the line in
time’s incinerator
turnin’ away from
the heat of the such
imagined memories
my heart blazes with
so much light it beats
bumps into my throat
gulp pulps arisen in
perfect persian croaks
- from London Works
with the mornin’ sun
breath of soldiers
fillin’ the air,
their prayers to mithras
come to deliver on
countless military
supplications
chanted with iron
dedication
in his direction
autocrat of light
to ranked centurions
city stuck or
makin’ their way north
to the misty wall
made by slaves in the
shade of the gaze of
emperor hadrian
millennia later
far beneath the stones
a river daily weeps
for those mithras days
way down the line in
time’s incinerator
turnin’ away from
the heat of the such
imagined memories
my heart blazes with
so much light it beats
bumps into my throat
gulp pulps arisen in
perfect persian croaks
- from London Works
Cattlemen
bunch blown stomachs
fiercesomely bad-tempered
morbidly malicious
aerial hole confinement,
disreputable affections
desperately sack dragging
cigarette physique masks,
and seizing a delicate virgin
for a future buzz with
father rawhide
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
fiercesomely bad-tempered
morbidly malicious
aerial hole confinement,
disreputable affections
desperately sack dragging
cigarette physique masks,
and seizing a delicate virgin
for a future buzz with
father rawhide
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
Driftwood
we all want the happiness
that rhetoric and money
will never come close to,
like in the time of the
bare-back hunters
before the coming of the church
destroyed the natural flamboyance
of their uncorrupted forces,
and sugar dealing merchants
from particular ports in the low countries
hadn’t had the notion
to find how deep the ocean was,
but all that has gone now
leaving us only with driftwood
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
that rhetoric and money
will never come close to,
like in the time of the
bare-back hunters
before the coming of the church
destroyed the natural flamboyance
of their uncorrupted forces,
and sugar dealing merchants
from particular ports in the low countries
hadn’t had the notion
to find how deep the ocean was,
but all that has gone now
leaving us only with driftwood
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Universal Tears
30 years ago Lennon died
didn’t die he was shot in the chest
bullet ripped through his vest
- and for what?
a legitimate target he was
in the mind of a man
whose psychic aggravation
made him lose the plot
John fell back on the ground
said to Yoko “I’m dying, I’m dying”
then he faded, the lights went out
Lennon left the world in shock
- from London Works
didn’t die he was shot in the chest
bullet ripped through his vest
- and for what?
a legitimate target he was
in the mind of a man
whose psychic aggravation
made him lose the plot
John fell back on the ground
said to Yoko “I’m dying, I’m dying”
then he faded, the lights went out
Lennon left the world in shock
- from London Works
Thursday, 23 December 2010
Shadows in the Sun
lives that are lived
songs that are sung,
like a casual flick
of an orange piece
over the wall,
laughing in the sun
the dust kicked up
fades before them,
but in the end
we are all shadows
waiting for the train to come
- from Poems from India 2002
songs that are sung,
like a casual flick
of an orange piece
over the wall,
laughing in the sun
the dust kicked up
fades before them,
but in the end
we are all shadows
waiting for the train to come
- from Poems from India 2002
Open Roadin'
open roadin’
Karnataka style
empty stretches
mile upon mile
sun hangs over
trees and bushes
in afternoon
orange blushes
line to nowhere
a single track
straight dissection
an awesome whack
Krishna river
faith ascending
Mecca India
never ending
tea and cakes at
a roadside stop
the price so sweet
you’d die of shock
destination
round the corner
thanks to the gods for
watchin’ over
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Karnataka style
empty stretches
mile upon mile
sun hangs over
trees and bushes
in afternoon
orange blushes
line to nowhere
a single track
straight dissection
an awesome whack
Krishna river
faith ascending
Mecca India
never ending
tea and cakes at
a roadside stop
the price so sweet
you’d die of shock
destination
round the corner
thanks to the gods for
watchin’ over
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Kathmandu Suite
1 –
days at the yak
timeless days
faint sun shining through
the shaded windows,
shadows in the street outside
shadows inside also,
let my mind
collapse into memories -
prangs of light
into the wooded past
2 –
you aint got to fear
for the ancient city
the shapes and the temples
are bearing up well
through the mists of time
mists of the mind
the pictures stored in expectation
don’t really fit
change before your eyes
into something different
an experience not predicted
mind created pictures
are not to be trusted
coloured as they are
by unchecked emotion
by waves of this and that
and the painful fact
of not getting what you want
ending up instead
with what you can’t put up with
3 –
you look at things
in a particular way,
approach from a path
not necessarily known
to the ordinary man
but you bring the sun with you
illuminating what was
previously not seen
4 –
used ta think
i was the karate kid
but the films i did
never amounted
to anything,
now i’ll be happy
to stumble through
without something
woeful happening
before the end
5 –
let the wind blow
squint your eyes
hunch your shoulders
and bend your body
in the shape of the breeze,
then you will fulfill
emotional callings
with the correct posture
to face with ease
the trials of life
- from London Works
days at the yak
timeless days
faint sun shining through
the shaded windows,
shadows in the street outside
shadows inside also,
let my mind
collapse into memories -
prangs of light
into the wooded past
2 –
you aint got to fear
for the ancient city
the shapes and the temples
are bearing up well
through the mists of time
mists of the mind
the pictures stored in expectation
don’t really fit
change before your eyes
into something different
an experience not predicted
mind created pictures
are not to be trusted
coloured as they are
by unchecked emotion
by waves of this and that
and the painful fact
of not getting what you want
ending up instead
with what you can’t put up with
3 –
you look at things
in a particular way,
approach from a path
not necessarily known
to the ordinary man
but you bring the sun with you
illuminating what was
previously not seen
4 –
used ta think
i was the karate kid
but the films i did
never amounted
to anything,
now i’ll be happy
to stumble through
without something
woeful happening
before the end
5 –
let the wind blow
squint your eyes
hunch your shoulders
and bend your body
in the shape of the breeze,
then you will fulfill
emotional callings
with the correct posture
to face with ease
the trials of life
- from London Works
Rock On Reincarnation
hello father i’m your sister
from 3,000 years ago,
remember when we ate the bison
beneath Mount Kilamanjaro
and ma was the bison?
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
from 3,000 years ago,
remember when we ate the bison
beneath Mount Kilamanjaro
and ma was the bison?
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Rock On
stamp upon the stone an’ dusted earth
run ahead with your arm outstretched
finger pointin’ towards the sun,
halo light falls upon your shoulders
as you kung fu flick you way
into the primary blue of borderless space,
all physical aspect dismounted
infinity signposted an’ death well done,
no trace left behind whatsoever
water spirits applaud the act
mountain gods take off their hats,
for they see well from resting high
in the league of universal knowledge,
banners flutter lightly in the breeze
an’ butter lamps flicker to the dream
of a thousand holy meditations,
symbolic of the fact you didn’t jack
- from Poems from the 90s
run ahead with your arm outstretched
finger pointin’ towards the sun,
halo light falls upon your shoulders
as you kung fu flick you way
into the primary blue of borderless space,
all physical aspect dismounted
infinity signposted an’ death well done,
no trace left behind whatsoever
water spirits applaud the act
mountain gods take off their hats,
for they see well from resting high
in the league of universal knowledge,
banners flutter lightly in the breeze
an’ butter lamps flicker to the dream
of a thousand holy meditations,
symbolic of the fact you didn’t jack
- from Poems from the 90s
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 10)
shufflin’ along
day after day
collectin’ thoughts
tryin’ to make ‘em pretty
do i succeed?
who do i tell?
these random circuits
like abandoned cars
dust pile gazin’
starin’ at the great unknown
these are the things
my mind comprises
with the promise
of no compromise
anytime soon
join the places
dot to dot
lines on empty
plains of nuthin’
plenty of empty
rock upon rock
too much here
to know what is what
rocks in heaps
single rocks
rocks like sheep
with pure breezes
from the east
rollin’ in -
winds on face
and wisdom fires
whip those rocks
100 K
in any direction
bearings without
instruments
are not possible
dangerous too
but keep dreamin’
keep believin’
in those sacred rocks
lyin’ further up
deep inside
far to ride
through this big country
mundane minds
abandoned
to their power
but stray from the path
is big peril
and no peril needed
enough already
if ya slip up
unintentional
the result will be
calamity
purple flower patches
close to the tracks
by the sidings
scrub bunches
pointed perfectly
and solitary trees
movin’ against
the wide horizon
artillery bushes
struck on the plain
and green green grasses
these are the things
that i see
this place – so removed
from what i am used to
the returning will be
a mighty shock
not really
exaggeration is a
family legacy
unwanted voodoo
in the bloodline
but seriously
it will be a tragedy
to say goodbye
to this world of
empty possibilities
- from Nullabor Song
day after day
collectin’ thoughts
tryin’ to make ‘em pretty
do i succeed?
who do i tell?
these random circuits
like abandoned cars
dust pile gazin’
starin’ at the great unknown
these are the things
my mind comprises
with the promise
of no compromise
anytime soon
join the places
dot to dot
lines on empty
plains of nuthin’
plenty of empty
rock upon rock
too much here
to know what is what
rocks in heaps
single rocks
rocks like sheep
with pure breezes
from the east
rollin’ in -
winds on face
and wisdom fires
whip those rocks
100 K
in any direction
bearings without
instruments
are not possible
dangerous too
but keep dreamin’
keep believin’
in those sacred rocks
lyin’ further up
deep inside
far to ride
through this big country
mundane minds
abandoned
to their power
but stray from the path
is big peril
and no peril needed
enough already
if ya slip up
unintentional
the result will be
calamity
purple flower patches
close to the tracks
by the sidings
scrub bunches
pointed perfectly
and solitary trees
movin’ against
the wide horizon
artillery bushes
struck on the plain
and green green grasses
these are the things
that i see
this place – so removed
from what i am used to
the returning will be
a mighty shock
not really
exaggeration is a
family legacy
unwanted voodoo
in the bloodline
but seriously
it will be a tragedy
to say goodbye
to this world of
empty possibilities
- from Nullabor Song
Hydrogen Burns
landed on my back
with my eyes wide open
turned my head
an’ infinity was over
my left shoulder
all those life trails
it is possible to make
when upon this earth
will disappear
just as it is meant to be
creation is incendiary
churnin’ a constant fire
that destroys all memories
- from Excavations Around the Sun
with my eyes wide open
turned my head
an’ infinity was over
my left shoulder
all those life trails
it is possible to make
when upon this earth
will disappear
just as it is meant to be
creation is incendiary
churnin’ a constant fire
that destroys all memories
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Mysterious Ways
people ride the wheel of day and night
before their trip to the burning grounds,
if all goes well many suns will slide across the sky
above their open eyes of happiness,
the people are simple here but they live well
blessed by the land of many sages
and taken care of in ways
mysterious to the outsider forever
- from Poems from India 2002
before their trip to the burning grounds,
if all goes well many suns will slide across the sky
above their open eyes of happiness,
the people are simple here but they live well
blessed by the land of many sages
and taken care of in ways
mysterious to the outsider forever
- from Poems from India 2002
Sentry
standing guard
over thoughts
no easy deal
words and deeds
much simpler
to keep sealed
but thoughts run
invade and
barricade
just like a
contagion
in the spin
of your mind
nail them
good with pure
attention
if you can
narrow down
their rampage
with inner
space fattened
in ancient
paradox
where less noise
is more sound
- from London Works
over thoughts
no easy deal
words and deeds
much simpler
to keep sealed
but thoughts run
invade and
barricade
just like a
contagion
in the spin
of your mind
nail them
good with pure
attention
if you can
narrow down
their rampage
with inner
space fattened
in ancient
paradox
where less noise
is more sound
- from London Works
Astronomy Ride
hope is the knowledge
there is life on other planets,
and that death is a cartwheel
through an all-embracing split second
astronomy ride
where the only question is how you like
your hypothesis,
and the only derivative is a black hole
with a certain puffiness,
born from the vacuity of non-existence
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
there is life on other planets,
and that death is a cartwheel
through an all-embracing split second
astronomy ride
where the only question is how you like
your hypothesis,
and the only derivative is a black hole
with a certain puffiness,
born from the vacuity of non-existence
- Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Shanty Shot Mountains
shanty shot mountains
five hundred feet indication
firm from recent floods,
influenced by deep implication
valid as ancestors actually dead,
wide passageways identifying
the same intention,
but sadly lacking a resurgence
of the yashmak fire
when dustless fountains radiated
with gayest worshipping
to the song of a nude troop of boys
and a nude troop of 8,000 girls
- Revised Rudeness: Cuts Ups
five hundred feet indication
firm from recent floods,
influenced by deep implication
valid as ancestors actually dead,
wide passageways identifying
the same intention,
but sadly lacking a resurgence
of the yashmak fire
when dustless fountains radiated
with gayest worshipping
to the song of a nude troop of boys
and a nude troop of 8,000 girls
- Revised Rudeness: Cuts Ups
The Indescribable
easy days are now gone replaced with the business
of reality and how to stay in it without cracking up
or undergoing the wrong kind of mystical shakedown
in the Bermuda triangle of false wisdom
answers and how to find them lie in the city of the heart
but it is well protected by invisible parts as mightily real
as stone circles on technical fire mountains,
hidden meadows in the early morning mist
fool millions into believing they have reached the valley,
but they haven’t
- from Poems from the 90s
of reality and how to stay in it without cracking up
or undergoing the wrong kind of mystical shakedown
in the Bermuda triangle of false wisdom
answers and how to find them lie in the city of the heart
but it is well protected by invisible parts as mightily real
as stone circles on technical fire mountains,
hidden meadows in the early morning mist
fool millions into believing they have reached the valley,
but they haven’t
- from Poems from the 90s
Holy Hills
tripped to the hills
where time stands still,
holy places on higher ground
above the haze away from sound
with applied will well arisen
archaeological statues
chop chipped from the rocks
countless clock tic tocs
around the sun ago,
still draw the faithful
sacred faces struck to astound
bodies indestructible,
days for propitiation
duly noted and rotated
by knowledgeable ancient locals
- from Excavations Around the Sun
where time stands still,
holy places on higher ground
above the haze away from sound
with applied will well arisen
archaeological statues
chop chipped from the rocks
countless clock tic tocs
around the sun ago,
still draw the faithful
sacred faces struck to astound
bodies indestructible,
days for propitiation
duly noted and rotated
by knowledgeable ancient locals
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Physical Hill
there was a hill once
there was a hill,
darkness lay at the bottom
and roses grew at the top
it was neither sentimental
or magnificent
but it was a hill, and had at least
physical hill physique
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
there was a hill,
darkness lay at the bottom
and roses grew at the top
it was neither sentimental
or magnificent
but it was a hill, and had at least
physical hill physique
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
Summer Spirit Song
people will look
at what
i do and think
just what
in the funk
is this bum
wantin’ to say?
and in response
all i will
be able to do
is kneel down
by the
roadside of ever
perpetuating dreams
and tell them
that i really
dunno
that this stuff
of the burst
infinity bubble
just keeps
streamin’
outta me
like evolution
and that to
try to
stop it would
just increase
those brow
furrowed
blues of
incapacitation
so i ramble on
with this summer
spirit song
where there is no
beginning
and there
is no end
only the cease -
decrease
entropy
of life in space
throwin’ out
signals
to take
a walk in the hills
on a cold
windy day
and to
remember the
romans who
echo this land
on the backs
of their
construction
dreams
realised
an almost
infinite number
of minutes ago
realised under
the same sun
and on the same
line of latitude
as we
but that
kinda glory
so difficult
that it is now
to see
is another story
another
summer
spirit song
- from London Works
at what
i do and think
just what
in the funk
is this bum
wantin’ to say?
and in response
all i will
be able to do
is kneel down
by the
roadside of ever
perpetuating dreams
and tell them
that i really
dunno
that this stuff
of the burst
infinity bubble
just keeps
streamin’
outta me
like evolution
and that to
try to
stop it would
just increase
those brow
furrowed
blues of
incapacitation
so i ramble on
with this summer
spirit song
where there is no
beginning
and there
is no end
only the cease -
decrease
entropy
of life in space
throwin’ out
signals
to take
a walk in the hills
on a cold
windy day
and to
remember the
romans who
echo this land
on the backs
of their
construction
dreams
realised
an almost
infinite number
of minutes ago
realised under
the same sun
and on the same
line of latitude
as we
but that
kinda glory
so difficult
that it is now
to see
is another story
another
summer
spirit song
- from London Works
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 11)
jazz in my ears
dark jazz
pulse jazz
the best jazz
there will ever be
tombstone
monuments of sound
in magic elastic
uncontrived complexity
waves to ride
they keep on comin’
spin me round
back to ground
sleepily
dazily
plain gazin’
for signs
down the track
snap after snap
no goin’ back
ain’t never seen nuthin’
quite so pretty
sun slowly settin’
way out west
as we ride east
into the blue
the deeper blue
of evening sky
moon sky
swoon shadow depths
the plain now trees
bended
twisted
rugged
hardy
plenty
popped up outta
red soils
red as red
can be
sunset city
down the line
but it ain’t really there
just a straight dissection
down the tracks
out in front and
to our backs –
relentless nuthin’
slowly endin’
slightly bendin’
into lands of
curves
swerves
stunted trees
on red soil stacks
earthily
power graded
in symbiotic
mystery
think i need
a cup of tea
more land
sunlight cast
by an unseen hand
if i could i would
kiss it
such is the beauty
of what i see
peoples’ voices
outside my cabin door
sound like the same
voices as ever before
just as it appears to me
the scene outside
in symmetry
no way of tellin’
when this show is
gonna be goin’
maybe hints an’
indentations
will soon appear
but funny how
it will always
have to be
temporary
even when it feels
like eternity
- from Nullabor Song
dark jazz
pulse jazz
the best jazz
there will ever be
tombstone
monuments of sound
in magic elastic
uncontrived complexity
waves to ride
they keep on comin’
spin me round
back to ground
sleepily
dazily
plain gazin’
for signs
down the track
snap after snap
no goin’ back
ain’t never seen nuthin’
quite so pretty
sun slowly settin’
way out west
as we ride east
into the blue
the deeper blue
of evening sky
moon sky
swoon shadow depths
the plain now trees
bended
twisted
rugged
hardy
plenty
popped up outta
red soils
red as red
can be
sunset city
down the line
but it ain’t really there
just a straight dissection
down the tracks
out in front and
to our backs –
relentless nuthin’
slowly endin’
slightly bendin’
into lands of
curves
swerves
stunted trees
on red soil stacks
earthily
power graded
in symbiotic
mystery
think i need
a cup of tea
more land
sunlight cast
by an unseen hand
if i could i would
kiss it
such is the beauty
of what i see
peoples’ voices
outside my cabin door
sound like the same
voices as ever before
just as it appears to me
the scene outside
in symmetry
no way of tellin’
when this show is
gonna be goin’
maybe hints an’
indentations
will soon appear
but funny how
it will always
have to be
temporary
even when it feels
like eternity
- from Nullabor Song
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Strom Yellow & Blue Farewells
storm yellow and blue farewells
form rainbow halos of purple,
thundering mountains vibrate
to the sound of volcanic saints,
and as the silver moon prostrates
for universal peace and love
many thousands of standing cows
forget their buttercup munches
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
form rainbow halos of purple,
thundering mountains vibrate
to the sound of volcanic saints,
and as the silver moon prostrates
for universal peace and love
many thousands of standing cows
forget their buttercup munches
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Walkin' Down the Tracks
walkin' down the tracks
and kicking up some dust
I squint my eyes
under the bright morning sun
and wonder what forgotten heroes
strode across these plains
so many hidden years ago –
probably none
this is Karnataka after all,
not Rajasthan or the land of the Genghis
- from Poems from India 2002
and kicking up some dust
I squint my eyes
under the bright morning sun
and wonder what forgotten heroes
strode across these plains
so many hidden years ago –
probably none
this is Karnataka after all,
not Rajasthan or the land of the Genghis
- from Poems from India 2002
Monday, 20 December 2010
Above the Plains of Turmoil
sun passes over rocks
and leaves no trace,
descends from the hills
light sun
bright sun
with all the freedom
to leave the bridges
an’ buildings of man
way behind,
not bound by
any quarter
sittin’ high above us
it’s worth dancing to,
worth passing the
peace pipe in honour of,
nothing will affect it
no smoke from the fires
of our planet
it simply commands
too great a latitude,
and has lived too
many ages lying low
and prehistoric
to give a pig’s ear
about the rock ball
configurations
of our carbon sentience
- from Poems from the 90s
and leaves no trace,
descends from the hills
light sun
bright sun
with all the freedom
to leave the bridges
an’ buildings of man
way behind,
not bound by
any quarter
sittin’ high above us
it’s worth dancing to,
worth passing the
peace pipe in honour of,
nothing will affect it
no smoke from the fires
of our planet
it simply commands
too great a latitude,
and has lived too
many ages lying low
and prehistoric
to give a pig’s ear
about the rock ball
configurations
of our carbon sentience
- from Poems from the 90s
Sacred City
stores galore, shrines temples
with lines of latitude
that would make you faint,
scent spirals smells incredible
the abracadabra of a roadside saint,
sacred city we can dream you
horizon edged in celestial paint
swastika foundations
finely tuned to considerations
of solar/lunar perambulations
lie buried deep beneath,
the invocatory chant
of countless incantations
is destiny gone beyond
any sensible configuration
to grace your station as
sacred space of illumination
- from Excavations Around the Sun
with lines of latitude
that would make you faint,
scent spirals smells incredible
the abracadabra of a roadside saint,
sacred city we can dream you
horizon edged in celestial paint
swastika foundations
finely tuned to considerations
of solar/lunar perambulations
lie buried deep beneath,
the invocatory chant
of countless incantations
is destiny gone beyond
any sensible configuration
to grace your station as
sacred space of illumination
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Confucius and the Mercedes-Benz
throw down the stick
look into the river of dreams
and see the pagoda
on the western horizon
peace pagoda
rogue silence abandoned
fly to the city
out of the valley
ancient stones forgotten
they once astonished
moss covered tonics
and you were grateful
for their therapy
the Confucian paradigm
is lost in the lights
of divided families
thieves and broken boundaries
the lonely question -
how to live wisely
in the world of Mercedes-Benz?
- from London Works
look into the river of dreams
and see the pagoda
on the western horizon
peace pagoda
rogue silence abandoned
fly to the city
out of the valley
ancient stones forgotten
they once astonished
moss covered tonics
and you were grateful
for their therapy
the Confucian paradigm
is lost in the lights
of divided families
thieves and broken boundaries
the lonely question -
how to live wisely
in the world of Mercedes-Benz?
- from London Works
Midnight Church Bells
always best to keep your feet on the ground
no use looking for a fabulous sunset
when there’s bollox-all on the horizon,
it may not seem as much fun, but in time
you’ll find a hidden freshness
in your attitude towards the geography of life,
things like a landscape splashed in purple
will come as a bonus,
not to mention the distant sound of midnight church bells
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
no use looking for a fabulous sunset
when there’s bollox-all on the horizon,
it may not seem as much fun, but in time
you’ll find a hidden freshness
in your attitude towards the geography of life,
things like a landscape splashed in purple
will come as a bonus,
not to mention the distant sound of midnight church bells
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Southern Breezes
southern breezes -
beside the tracks
the fields lie waiting
in anticipation of nothing in particular,
brush dusted
the freed crust
on which people squat
becomes a plain
a few miles down the road,
red soil in a heat that boils
making you crouch low
as you go in your dream
another one of a countless number,
and many more dreams
will see you pulled toe first
if you’re lucky -
an infant into another world
until you rumble
your stretch of slumber
- from Poems from India 2002
beside the tracks
the fields lie waiting
in anticipation of nothing in particular,
brush dusted
the freed crust
on which people squat
becomes a plain
a few miles down the road,
red soil in a heat that boils
making you crouch low
as you go in your dream
another one of a countless number,
and many more dreams
will see you pulled toe first
if you’re lucky -
an infant into another world
until you rumble
your stretch of slumber
- from Poems from India 2002
Gale
trees were torn from their roots
fencing was blown down the streets,
in the middle of the night
the wind had struck like a god
on it’s way from the deep sea
to far hidden mountains
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
fencing was blown down the streets,
in the middle of the night
the wind had struck like a god
on it’s way from the deep sea
to far hidden mountains
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Toastin' Life
everyone wants
the best kind of life,
even a bird sitting on
a branch of a tree
in a part of Patagonia
that had never been torched for oil
fair enough i suppose,
all of us have our hopes,
all of us like fine sunrises
to blaze across the land
slave labour abolished,
so here’s a toast
to all the dreams
we still come up with
dressed in holy
church collapsed wonder
rocking all over
like liquid sunshine,
we demand an age
of flowers and kisses
in big heap love kingdoms
expanding everywhere;
toast life in the daily
invisibilities
of inter-communication
and we shall receive
- from Poems from the 90s
the best kind of life,
even a bird sitting on
a branch of a tree
in a part of Patagonia
that had never been torched for oil
fair enough i suppose,
all of us have our hopes,
all of us like fine sunrises
to blaze across the land
slave labour abolished,
so here’s a toast
to all the dreams
we still come up with
dressed in holy
church collapsed wonder
rocking all over
like liquid sunshine,
we demand an age
of flowers and kisses
in big heap love kingdoms
expanding everywhere;
toast life in the daily
invisibilities
of inter-communication
and we shall receive
- from Poems from the 90s
Hassan
Karnataka towns
pull together from
out of the haze,
with chaotic genius
clearly evident
their construction
has no precedent
eye to the ground
sees a risin’ power
vast ancient mother
now full of people
and able to compete
in the confusion an’ heat,
willin’ to work
on a dusty trail an’ do
what others would refuse
pretty it certainly isn’t
but beauty comes in
countless shapes an’ sizes,
like electric estates
contoured by those who
calculate to recreate
the energy of the sun
on the inner ring of an
outer highway on fire
- from Excavations Around the Sun
pull together from
out of the haze,
with chaotic genius
clearly evident
their construction
has no precedent
eye to the ground
sees a risin’ power
vast ancient mother
now full of people
and able to compete
in the confusion an’ heat,
willin’ to work
on a dusty trail an’ do
what others would refuse
pretty it certainly isn’t
but beauty comes in
countless shapes an’ sizes,
like electric estates
contoured by those who
calculate to recreate
the energy of the sun
on the inner ring of an
outer highway on fire
- from Excavations Around the Sun
6-Kilowatt Hospital
highest calibre surgery
to deal with casualties,
incarnations
thought to have packed it
shredding away,
straddling lattice-like
their molestation
and audacious genius
of the enemy
- from Revised Rudeness: Cuts Ups
to deal with casualties,
incarnations
thought to have packed it
shredding away,
straddling lattice-like
their molestation
and audacious genius
of the enemy
- from Revised Rudeness: Cuts Ups
Identity of Truth
all your favourites
list them out
books, music
things to do
as if they establish
your identity
give you some
justification
for inhabiting
the quacking emptiness
of being
which is all there is
honestly actually
but i am not
supposed to say that
as people get scared
look at me funny
probably wish
i would take a pill
before removing
myself from view
so as to hide my
propensity for
speaking the truth
as I see it
- from London Works
list them out
books, music
things to do
as if they establish
your identity
give you some
justification
for inhabiting
the quacking emptiness
of being
which is all there is
honestly actually
but i am not
supposed to say that
as people get scared
look at me funny
probably wish
i would take a pill
before removing
myself from view
so as to hide my
propensity for
speaking the truth
as I see it
- from London Works
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Nullabor Song (Excerpt 12)
horn blown jazz
fusion
confusion
confession jazz
better than Confucius
on its day
miles -
miles behind
miles ahead
double drum
trouble tread
hope enough
to wake the weary
but Babylon
is a place where
the sleep is deep
dirty mean
and downright
dangerous
only say so much
then trip back
to your own
fantastic
hey wow far out
‘coz people don’t like us
no one likes us
spikeheads that we are
to consciousness
no one likes us
to come upon them
unbidden
miles away
and now miles is dead
only so much puff
left in me now
take the back roads
one day
onto the plain
into the scrub
again an’ again
never would be possible
to run outta
no places to go to
cardinal blandness maybe
but instead of nuthin’
there is everything
as horizons shift
from rollin’ along
to little bits
little pieces
testaments to territories
mirrored in sameness
yet different
with barely a tree
between them
and on the edges
mines
vines
shacks
by the roadside
but not here
no, nuthin’ here
only bushes scrub
multicoloured
tree-twisted
soil red enlisted
until sun punched
into desolate beauty
untouched
night ridin’
super collide
thoughts from inside
back to nuthin’
onto the plain
in moonlight
starlight
faint south
extraordinary configurations
lines to somewhere
single tracks
meet upon the
acoustic horizon
terrestrial
perfection
gone lunar goodnight
shuffle ride
high collide
rollin’ on
another station
seen so much
seen so little
hard to say
what it was
to find the words
in which to say
illuminated celebration
rocks!
great vision of cities here
on this plain
1000 yrs to come
empty visions
naturally
probabilities plucked
empty pretty
and so they gotta be
unless the
mineral crunch
machinery
digs around
makes it less of nuthin’
but kills the crust
holed up in some station
sleep now gone
berth hot
and outside
sounds like steam pumps
and the neon
would make it cruel
to pull up the blinds
hibernation safer
station to station
last throw of the dice
for these plain ride writings
sittin’ on the bunk
aboard the lunar terrific
that has now gone
writings
trails, traces
god knows what...
never suggested
they were supposed to have
any kinda destination
just squiggles
and the occasional dot
prettified
sense twisted
i kid you not
- from Nullabor Song
fusion
confusion
confession jazz
better than Confucius
on its day
miles -
miles behind
miles ahead
double drum
trouble tread
hope enough
to wake the weary
but Babylon
is a place where
the sleep is deep
dirty mean
and downright
dangerous
only say so much
then trip back
to your own
fantastic
hey wow far out
‘coz people don’t like us
no one likes us
spikeheads that we are
to consciousness
no one likes us
to come upon them
unbidden
miles away
and now miles is dead
only so much puff
left in me now
take the back roads
one day
onto the plain
into the scrub
again an’ again
never would be possible
to run outta
no places to go to
cardinal blandness maybe
but instead of nuthin’
there is everything
as horizons shift
from rollin’ along
to little bits
little pieces
testaments to territories
mirrored in sameness
yet different
with barely a tree
between them
and on the edges
mines
vines
shacks
by the roadside
but not here
no, nuthin’ here
only bushes scrub
multicoloured
tree-twisted
soil red enlisted
until sun punched
into desolate beauty
untouched
night ridin’
super collide
thoughts from inside
back to nuthin’
onto the plain
in moonlight
starlight
faint south
extraordinary configurations
lines to somewhere
single tracks
meet upon the
acoustic horizon
terrestrial
perfection
gone lunar goodnight
shuffle ride
high collide
rollin’ on
another station
seen so much
seen so little
hard to say
what it was
to find the words
in which to say
illuminated celebration
rocks!
great vision of cities here
on this plain
1000 yrs to come
empty visions
naturally
probabilities plucked
empty pretty
and so they gotta be
unless the
mineral crunch
machinery
digs around
makes it less of nuthin’
but kills the crust
holed up in some station
sleep now gone
berth hot
and outside
sounds like steam pumps
and the neon
would make it cruel
to pull up the blinds
hibernation safer
station to station
last throw of the dice
for these plain ride writings
sittin’ on the bunk
aboard the lunar terrific
that has now gone
writings
trails, traces
god knows what...
never suggested
they were supposed to have
any kinda destination
just squiggles
and the occasional dot
prettified
sense twisted
i kid you not
- from Nullabor Song
Cow Strut
listen to the twang of the music
the sound of mountain song
all playing in the background
of the deep south
where the people are dark
and the chilli is hot and delicious,
fair winds blow gently every day
and cows strut across field and road
unafraid
even if they are the cause
of horrific accidents
when buses crash into them
and kill scores of people on the spot,
but that is just the way
there are plenty more where they came from -
cows, people and buses too
- from Poems from India 2002
the sound of mountain song
all playing in the background
of the deep south
where the people are dark
and the chilli is hot and delicious,
fair winds blow gently every day
and cows strut across field and road
unafraid
even if they are the cause
of horrific accidents
when buses crash into them
and kill scores of people on the spot,
but that is just the way
there are plenty more where they came from -
cows, people and buses too
- from Poems from India 2002
Enter the Inner
enter the inner
eternal within
where the secret senses
of our sacred centres
dance the power dance
somewhere deep inside
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
eternal within
where the secret senses
of our sacred centres
dance the power dance
somewhere deep inside
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
In the Fields
pilgrim hill lines
in the distance
within their shape
terrestrial
magnetism
lies explained
open field
monks and people
walk the ridges
snakes soil and
mantra bridges
curl upon the
tractor coils
beneath the stars
life defined
shadows trace
secret signs,
spiritual cost
in profit and loss
- from Excavations Around the Sun
in the distance
within their shape
terrestrial
magnetism
lies explained
open field
monks and people
walk the ridges
snakes soil and
mantra bridges
curl upon the
tractor coils
beneath the stars
life defined
shadows trace
secret signs,
spiritual cost
in profit and loss
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Friday, 17 December 2010
Spiritual Babylon
look baby where we’ve come
i can hardly bang my drum anymore
strange clouds mound the horizon
in furnaces of purple shadow
upon whirlpools of day and night
everything tastes the same
yet the knowing does not liberate
a fatal miscalculation has been made
and now it feels too late
to undo all the countless doings
i have laid an’ prayed my life by
guess I forgot to come clean
guess I never got out of babylon
- from London Works
i can hardly bang my drum anymore
strange clouds mound the horizon
in furnaces of purple shadow
upon whirlpools of day and night
everything tastes the same
yet the knowing does not liberate
a fatal miscalculation has been made
and now it feels too late
to undo all the countless doings
i have laid an’ prayed my life by
guess I forgot to come clean
guess I never got out of babylon
- from London Works
Babylon Drums
heat beaten monastic rice
and the dull quiet of day sleep
are a long way from the ocean
which is where my dreams lie,
like solitary clouds of heaven
golden white and full of eagles,
bolder than let them drum over me
babylon drums
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
and the dull quiet of day sleep
are a long way from the ocean
which is where my dreams lie,
like solitary clouds of heaven
golden white and full of eagles,
bolder than let them drum over me
babylon drums
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Dust Cloud Gazin'
dust cloud gazin’
try to find meaning
to the shapes in yer life
ending up with just the
breeze for company
- from Excavations Around the Sun
try to find meaning
to the shapes in yer life
ending up with just the
breeze for company
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Bettadapur
the sight of a full moon
over a south Indian landscape
is something to behold,
the outline of a distant mountain
many miles away in the night
makes me think of its might
holy contours jagged in the light,
beneath the stars
on a blue velvet cushion
I wave to the wizard
- from Poems from India 2002
over a south Indian landscape
is something to behold,
the outline of a distant mountain
many miles away in the night
makes me think of its might
holy contours jagged in the light,
beneath the stars
on a blue velvet cushion
I wave to the wizard
- from Poems from India 2002
Aftermath of Woodsmoke
the degenerate city –
desecrated time and time again
by people and their trash,
their needless shouting
and a level of intelligence
that is an insult to animals,
easy to sit around and get jealous
of all those people with farms to go to,
fresh heather to beat beneath their walking sticks
and days of summertime picnics,
solitude
Orion
and the crash of silent circumstance
in the aftermath of wood smoke
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
desecrated time and time again
by people and their trash,
their needless shouting
and a level of intelligence
that is an insult to animals,
easy to sit around and get jealous
of all those people with farms to go to,
fresh heather to beat beneath their walking sticks
and days of summertime picnics,
solitude
Orion
and the crash of silent circumstance
in the aftermath of wood smoke
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
Goddess Forbidden
play the game
an’ fame awaits ya
break the rules
an’ the ship of fools
to the land of shame
will surely take ya
forest grove hidin’
those shrine eyes shinin’,
on yer sex mine
chimney divine
her hitchin’ a ride
yer visualizin’
ya love her scent
she intoxicates ya
but ta touch her tit
or ta lick her slit
will decapitate ya
- from Excavations Around the Sun
an’ fame awaits ya
break the rules
an’ the ship of fools
to the land of shame
will surely take ya
forest grove hidin’
those shrine eyes shinin’,
on yer sex mine
chimney divine
her hitchin’ a ride
yer visualizin’
ya love her scent
she intoxicates ya
but ta touch her tit
or ta lick her slit
will decapitate ya
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Water Breath
bullet hole colours
punctuated by the flash of
no moon,
down in the sea crossed
rear hollows
of booby-trap occupation
oozing boggiest
pop up head earth
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
punctuated by the flash of
no moon,
down in the sea crossed
rear hollows
of booby-trap occupation
oozing boggiest
pop up head earth
- from Revised Rudeness: Cut Ups
5
most of the time our thoughts
are caught on the wheels
of a tricky and complicated
ventricular system
built on wind and light,
circumnambulating
the fortress of the heart
where the radio of truth always plays,
and from the source the sound is perfect
problems begin with transmission,
for there be mountains
surrounding radio land -
those protective shoulders
where inner powers hide;
an unfathomable shrug
of the mystical number 5
keeps all pretenders at bay
on the lake of prayers,
so cast away all hesitation -
the stillness is deep
- from Poems from India 2002
are caught on the wheels
of a tricky and complicated
ventricular system
built on wind and light,
circumnambulating
the fortress of the heart
where the radio of truth always plays,
and from the source the sound is perfect
problems begin with transmission,
for there be mountains
surrounding radio land -
those protective shoulders
where inner powers hide;
an unfathomable shrug
of the mystical number 5
keeps all pretenders at bay
on the lake of prayers,
so cast away all hesitation -
the stillness is deep
- from Poems from India 2002
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Cold as Hell
frozen trains
frozen pipes
breathin' streams
dreams an' beams
people rough
people rude
people cold
mad as hell
concrete jungle
where we live
where we work
makes it tough
makes it rough
on and on
and so we go
till we fall
till we drop
an' have to stop
then to rot
off we trot
human nature
barnacle bill
out of gas
you can call
scream and shout
kick a cloud
spray with snow
on we go
lots of no
little yes
little please
sunshine weather
up the spout
awesome awful
the ant people
hate icicles
- from London Works
frozen pipes
breathin' streams
dreams an' beams
people rough
people rude
people cold
mad as hell
concrete jungle
where we live
where we work
makes it tough
makes it rough
on and on
and so we go
till we fall
till we drop
an' have to stop
then to rot
off we trot
human nature
barnacle bill
out of gas
you can call
scream and shout
kick a cloud
spray with snow
on we go
lots of no
little yes
little please
sunshine weather
up the spout
awesome awful
the ant people
hate icicles
- from London Works
London Sickness & Redemption
puff punched
outta me
all i can do
not to curl
into a ball
an' disappear
for ever
an' ever
fever time
hot an' cold
mutli- shivers
not much to do
but sweat it out
which I try
with thoughts soggy
mind groggy
all banta gone pop
heart punched
on the double drop
beat of sweats
shoulder chop
neck click
an' thick head
maybe better dead
jus' dunno
wot is wot is wot
confusion
contusion
knocked silly
fever full
took a walk
in London town
in the cold
on the ice
gloves on
scarfe too
freezin' cold
hit my legs
mind bounced
pole to pole
felt so old
on the ropes
pale ghost
shufflin' along
doin' this
doin' that
eyes fixed on the
horizon
little details
passed me by
did the stuff
i had to do
London power
saw me through
and prayers to
spirits gods
invisibles
London spirits
won't hold sway
forever more
but will for
a time chunk
thick as a brick
that is sure
that is fixed
too many tricks
rolled along the river
in years gone by
for them to jus'
disappear
down the pipe
without a squeak
an' people come
people go
streams of people
air wishes
puffs of smoke
snap of the fingers
blink of the eye
one thing certain
all will die
got home heavy
frozen thru'
mortal kissed
London cold
hard as stone
centuries old
in the late light
afternoon
began to shiver
went to sleep
double quilted
woke hot
in the dark an'
felt better
strength returned
jus' a little
sat in a daze
watched the box
hit the hay
11 o'clock
slept the sleep
of the dead
felt 70 felt 10
contradiction
paradox
morning after
orange sun
beauty light
palms together
has to be
time to speak to
the sun gods
over London
holy days in
winter blue
London light
sky streaked
plane scraped
as meant to be
never wanna die
make me live gods
forever an' ever
you ghosts eternal
love this lad
so often wrong
sometimes bad
sometimes full
of the silly fool
it is true
but deep down
he has a faith
indescribable
appreciation
burstin' outta
his beatin' heart
an' jus' wantin' to
celebrate
every second
of every day
- from London Works
outta me
all i can do
not to curl
into a ball
an' disappear
for ever
an' ever
fever time
hot an' cold
mutli- shivers
not much to do
but sweat it out
which I try
with thoughts soggy
mind groggy
all banta gone pop
heart punched
on the double drop
beat of sweats
shoulder chop
neck click
an' thick head
maybe better dead
jus' dunno
wot is wot is wot
confusion
contusion
knocked silly
fever full
took a walk
in London town
in the cold
on the ice
gloves on
scarfe too
freezin' cold
hit my legs
mind bounced
pole to pole
felt so old
on the ropes
pale ghost
shufflin' along
doin' this
doin' that
eyes fixed on the
horizon
little details
passed me by
did the stuff
i had to do
London power
saw me through
and prayers to
spirits gods
invisibles
London spirits
won't hold sway
forever more
but will for
a time chunk
thick as a brick
that is sure
that is fixed
too many tricks
rolled along the river
in years gone by
for them to jus'
disappear
down the pipe
without a squeak
an' people come
people go
streams of people
air wishes
puffs of smoke
snap of the fingers
blink of the eye
one thing certain
all will die
got home heavy
frozen thru'
mortal kissed
London cold
hard as stone
centuries old
in the late light
afternoon
began to shiver
went to sleep
double quilted
woke hot
in the dark an'
felt better
strength returned
jus' a little
sat in a daze
watched the box
hit the hay
11 o'clock
slept the sleep
of the dead
felt 70 felt 10
contradiction
paradox
morning after
orange sun
beauty light
palms together
has to be
time to speak to
the sun gods
over London
holy days in
winter blue
London light
sky streaked
plane scraped
as meant to be
never wanna die
make me live gods
forever an' ever
you ghosts eternal
love this lad
so often wrong
sometimes bad
sometimes full
of the silly fool
it is true
but deep down
he has a faith
indescribable
appreciation
burstin' outta
his beatin' heart
an' jus' wantin' to
celebrate
every second
of every day
- from London Works
Wall
flowers grow
in the ground
at the foot
of the wall,
long green grasses
switchback rusted
beneath a
deep blue sky,
wall built by
the romans
goddamit
all those years ago
before
saxons plague fires
and henry viii
were on the scene
an’ did their bit
as the earth spun
upon the sun spit
winkin’ prettily
eerily vergin’
on the side
of eternity
wall
old brick
from kent or somewhere
built to protect
now lyin’ dormant
out of date boundary
made by people
faded to spirit
centuries back
eyes hollow,
though skull an’ bone
might be found
‘neath the street
flesh an’ blood
long since has sunk
into the awful
london mud
wall
standin’ there
stare it back
before
the noise attack
of modern city
full of taxis
vans
bikers
predators
oinkin’ cops
computer scams
and people
dizzily busy
wall of
hauntin’ beauty
buttercups an’
daisies
so very much
like spring
the hype of summer
to come
when dreams
stretch for miles
across the fields
before fadin’ to
orange sunset
communications
from an uninterrupted
interstellar hum
comin’ on strong
from outta the distance
the immense distance
beyond the sky…
- from London Works
in the ground
at the foot
of the wall,
long green grasses
switchback rusted
beneath a
deep blue sky,
wall built by
the romans
goddamit
all those years ago
before
saxons plague fires
and henry viii
were on the scene
an’ did their bit
as the earth spun
upon the sun spit
winkin’ prettily
eerily vergin’
on the side
of eternity
wall
old brick
from kent or somewhere
built to protect
now lyin’ dormant
out of date boundary
made by people
faded to spirit
centuries back
eyes hollow,
though skull an’ bone
might be found
‘neath the street
flesh an’ blood
long since has sunk
into the awful
london mud
wall
standin’ there
stare it back
before
the noise attack
of modern city
full of taxis
vans
bikers
predators
oinkin’ cops
computer scams
and people
dizzily busy
wall of
hauntin’ beauty
buttercups an’
daisies
so very much
like spring
the hype of summer
to come
when dreams
stretch for miles
across the fields
before fadin’ to
orange sunset
communications
from an uninterrupted
interstellar hum
comin’ on strong
from outta the distance
the immense distance
beyond the sky…
- from London Works
Plateau History
what to do with age
when the strike gets lower
on a match to a flame,
when the winters roll
hard as ever round again
like invisible heat
like a turquoise streak
above a barren land
of glacial fury?
plateau history
wild with storm leaves
blown profoundly
where do we find
the time to return
to the deeper ground
to time as a circle
and not a line
thinly defining
our place on the road?
- from Poems from the 90s
when the strike gets lower
on a match to a flame,
when the winters roll
hard as ever round again
like invisible heat
like a turquoise streak
above a barren land
of glacial fury?
plateau history
wild with storm leaves
blown profoundly
where do we find
the time to return
to the deeper ground
to time as a circle
and not a line
thinly defining
our place on the road?
- from Poems from the 90s
Engines of Genius
tyres piled on oily particles
tools accrued keep it practical
nuts an’ bolts if things get technical
exotic riot inconceivable,
to see is to believe
in the occasional miracle,
streets replete with the genuine article
- from Excavations Around the Sun
tools accrued keep it practical
nuts an’ bolts if things get technical
exotic riot inconceivable,
to see is to believe
in the occasional miracle,
streets replete with the genuine article
- from Excavations Around the Sun
Opium Bongos
the poppy wanderers
disciples of the poppy,
flowers over dream hills
playing with the poppy,
southern blood brothers
playing to ancient cities,
and stoned in city hills
still poppy hill playing
the opium sons perform
with bongos and steel
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
disciples of the poppy,
flowers over dream hills
playing with the poppy,
southern blood brothers
playing to ancient cities,
and stoned in city hills
still poppy hill playing
the opium sons perform
with bongos and steel
- from Revised Rudeness: Poems 1983 - 1991
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