CHRIST WAS ESSENCE

Christ was essence.
Shall I bask
In that glow?

We all have a centre
That lights our
World - The show
Of Time, of Loving.

My friends give me light
I absorb the light
Passing through

*

I am glad I am a man,
Proud of his Buddha belly!
I do not think
I am strong enough
To be a woman

To be a permanent
Delicious beauty
Walking in a frame
Would exhaust me

Unless I too, remembered
Night and day,
Amongst the passion
That Christ was essence.

SOLDIERING ON

I’ve been painting figurines
For so many years, the
Same one inch plastic figures –

Soldiers disciplined on a
Tree-sprue, disembodied arms
Clutching regulation swords
Or rusting blunderbuss.
Most have half painted helmets
And astonished eyes
Until they receive the pupil.

The detail kills me –
I can’t quite bear the monotony
Of painting rank upon rank
Of tragic cannon fodder

Instead I always go first
For the top brass, on whom
I lavish all my care and skill,
Two coats of ‘Dwarf Bronze’
‘Elfin Green’ or ‘Prussian Blue’

But as yet
No-one in this Army has
Quite pulled themselves together –
The horses are completely unbroken
The artillery is un-oiled
Training has not yet begun.

VARIETY IS
THE SPICE OF LIFE

The more flowers
In the garden
The more beauty

The more races
On the Earth
The more Genius

POTENT BEAUTY MEDICINE

I unlock the snake-jaw
Trace the snail-shell path
To a twisted atomic omega point
The back-door of a snowflake

I treasure the pattern
In a fractal cactus
Or white-out on an ECG monitor

I feel the live arc
Of a Scorpion's tail
Collect the DNA of a crashing
Wave bringing chaos to a beach

Under glamour and moonshine
Potent beauty medicine grows
Bottling the tears of immature angels
Drawing strength from decay

SEX-PAGAN-MOTION

All that silliness and devotion
Laid on this bed -
A jiggling mountain of plump
Tattooed young body parts

A shudder of scarlet flesh, which
Mimics the pumping of a
Rhythmic pagan heart - containing
Ecstasy in sweat - then the
Tremendous uprush of blood as
We reach up to touch - what... Buddha?
Christ? - The Unknown Spirit?

But then a certain secret
Somebody turns the lights off
It becomes dark - and somewhere high
Above the window, clouds break
As imperceptibly the tide covering
Caernarvonshire retreats

Then Im human again, I shiver
Spineless
Gutless as any broken mollusc
Part of the food chain
Ready to be eaten, just
Lying naked on the beach.

WOODLAND DREAM - AN IDYL

Lost in the sheer fright of
Twisted trees that lurch about,
Is that a pissed sapling in my path?

The birth of the wild copse
A birch holding lager tinnies
And an aspen
Playing with its knife -
They're gonna cut my skin
And leave their mark

I don't trust anything
That don't speak real English

We crucify our
Livers with gin, as unknown
Birds get burning throats
While the woodman
Lies on top of his wife.

Where does the wilderness begin?
In the bush or in the heart?

TRUE?

Women are devotional?
Some are priests and churches –
Some are disused chapels
Where the louts drink

Men are remote -
Lost planets

Unless they use ceremony
To wrap others in love
To worship the life in all

ITS THE END OF THE WORLD

A slab of sky rests
On an Earth which
Is almost concrete

The spark of fire
In its heart
Is about to go out

The stage is stripped
Bare of lungs, life, trees
The limpid blue sea

The light goes out...

But what memories were shared
On this speck in the Universe;
What love affairs under bower
And tower block.

What organisation
What Kingdoms and States.
What products were sold!

A World so hot and cold,
Knowing vast differances,
Yet holding good and evil
As if both twins had the right
To receive love.

SOLAR SUCKLING

The Sun is a ferocious light
That has not yet been spent -

The moon is a pasty faced
Spot-arsed baby
Sucking at its breast -
Oh boy that baby is needy!

SPRING CLEAN

Rain shower cleanses
The stale grey suited male,
Puts a spring in his step as he
Splashes over granite slabs
And tarmac in the wet.

FIRE OF LOVE

A broken search for God -
Divine love carpets with petals.
Emotion clouds my thought-forms
As Sky tumbles into my arms

Beauty is everywhere, yet
Strung up from every tree

I weep for lost time
For lost love -

*

Clear the channels -
Clear a rough channel for
Water and fire to tumble -
As I move to love of Her.

And let the Great earth
Split its bonds –

Let all doubt
Of reincarnation of flowering
Be lost in a new carpet of
Perennial cherry blossom

SHE MOVES

She moves this mud
Filled World with her hand,
Plays divinity, shows
Wave-filled breezes

Throwing ruby dice
She dances to the song
Pure chance selects -
Latin curse or lace bed-head

And she moves closer -
Sensing this pain.
That Love needs
Real colour in its cheeks

Beauty is a tear
In heart –
In my position

And I am moved at last
To join close to my Love
(With My secret Feminine) -
Who cannot be reached
But through this World

THE SERMON OF THE PRODUCT

I’m getting enlightened on
The Tube – Three minutes of
Eckart Tolle
Torkom Saraydarian
A Course In Miracles –
I click and listen. It’s like picking
a product off a shelf and examining
Its tiny label...

Am I cynical.?
No, I have a childhood belief
There is a product for me
Some gap in the wall
A window, a rabbit hole
To give a freedom to each destiny…

THOUGHTS ON THE BEST BRAND

Can we put Him in a tin
And truly label him?

Do all tins lead to God?

Hmmm, is this only about
Displaying our wares - In Cathedrals,
Temples and Mosques the
Brands are stacked high and
Can overwhelm in their perfection.

Also (As I'm taking years to decide)
Does a new faith have a sell by date?...

*

Well only one thing for it –
I've made my choice.
So that I don’t starve
For lack of nutrition,
I’d better take one down
And in my own privacy, eat

OLD VERSIONS of above taken off...

THE PROLETARIAT’S PRAYER

O God
Smash through
That brick wall
Of my heart

Demolish the tower
Of my pride

And – above all –
Make me redundant

BILLIONS - CLICK

The meaning of life
Is not just survival
It is to stand alone
With billions

Who have everything,
Tasteful with colour
Take riches from shelves
And travel high speed
Vibrating their bodies -

I like to stand with them.
Click on my sunset
Relax.

And we
Who evolve
Who cure ailments
With a beam of light
Are lonely

Because we do not touch
Our white heart
Or a place
That never changes.

DROPS OF GRACE v.2

Droplets of grace
Falling from the sky
Absorbed into the eye
Of the dry ground, housed
With the bones of dry men -

Who know the torture of crying

The Wisdom of Grace
Aborbed into Sophia my Mother
Reformed in the ditch
Of Spring and Winter
Every white season.

USES
(A memory of Lindisfarne)

What did you use me for?
To shore your technical theology
Or build a city on a hill?

I would walk in the marsh
And rejoice when the land gives way
Gradually, to an expanse of water

To seek peace,
And sing there still

ISLANDS

We are all so busy
We do not have time to breathe
To pick fruit from the trees

We are all rushing so fast
(Even to our deaths)
Without the consolation
Of islands...

islands of sound
Of graceful beauty and rest
The trees swaying to
An invisible breeze

THE TROUBLE

I’m going to trouble myself
And find a master.
I will trouble myself
Give my heart a home

I don’t know the steps
To discover my fate
The expanse is great.
I don’t know the stones
Tired feet should know

But it is plain and apparent to me
A master of life is needed;
To set the house on fire
To set my house in order

A living flame is needed
To talk to my heart and soul
To reveal I am a tenant
Housed in a ghostly shell

...While earth is spinning blind
And moon is shining on her own

So I will die in Spring - in Winter
And I will die again in Summer -
To know the love of truth.
The truth that they have known.

STEPTOE AND PUB PHYSICS

Einstein and other
Nobel worthies say
Nothing is really real

This world is a
Fantastic fairy tale of
Spinning light and vibration -
A place we can’t accurately measure
In a newly discovered land
Known as Quantum Physics...

Maybe I’m missing the point?

Despite the clever maths
Despite the brightness
Behind the equation,
I still feel the need to
Reduce God to something
Shapely and purposeful

As a post-moden chair....

Something solid
Something tried and tested
Which gnarled hands have dragged
To this corner

Of the Frog & Ferret
Where its slowly been
Polished up since the nineteen
Eighties by tight, bony, saggy bottoms
Bags of shopping -

Its ash feet chewed by an old dog,
A chair on which I sit today
Wobbly, by a weak gas flame
As the twilight decends
And I figure out what it is to be.

Why should I lean towards the centre?
Because, there, God keeps all the answers

*

Petals
Are like sun-flames

Petals flutter away
Or fall like darts
But the sun burns forever

*

…I can not imagine a lion without a mane
Or a flower without leaves,
Or the great-circle-mystery-dance
Without a pulsing ring of creatures

*

Human faces are half finished questions –
Add a flickering smile and - yes
It all makes sense

Washed up on a shore
Near St Maries de la Mer
I crawled into a cave. There
I saw a statue of black skin
Covered in shadows and
Rich embroidered robes

I heard a whisper:-
“Follow the path of your heart”.
I walked further into that cave
To better know the statue’s face;
I recoiled - seeing Mother with
Suckling babe, then a beautiful
Young Maiden – lastly an old
Crone by a candle flame.

I backed away
But she laughed loud and
Her withered hand pointed
“Take this path through the sand”

I noticed a crack opened in
The wall behind, letting in light;
I walked towards the warmth
I felt the great power of light
As the sun dried my clothes

But my eyes became blind as
Far on every side stretched dunes.

No breeze – no plants…
Was that an old withered tree?…
Slowly it moved towards me
From miles distant

“My Name is John the Messenger;
You may say Baptist” There
I stood amazed, seeing that wild
Symbol from my childhood days.

He tugged my hand away
And led me across the sand –
I did not retreat

We entered a rocky ravine
We walked in a land like Palestine
Where only cactus grew, I began to swoon
For lack of water. I knew not how many
Days we walked – in my delirium
I spoke of the River Jordan - and
At that moment the Baptiser was gone
And all I knew were mirages and a clump
Of palm trees.

I took hours to crawl to them
In my weak state I collapsed
By the side of a blue lagoon
My mouth cracked and bruised.

When I awoke my face
Was stroked by a woman wrapped
Head to toe in Muslin

Part 2

“My beloved, I have waited long”
And she moved her hips and hands
To a verse from The Song of Songs.

Over many days I grew stronger
Tended by that beautiful veiled woman
Whose eyes I stared into.

One morning I rose from my tent
Having dreamt she was called Mary and
For the first time I walked unaided and tall

I desired
Her and looked for her
But she was gone, only camel tracks
Showed the direction she had taken.

There was another saddled camel
Tied to a tree, full of provisions -
For three days I followed her tracks
Until a great storm came
and erased the prints

Late at night
By accident feeling broken
I arrived at a Tower on the edge of
The desert

I beat on the door
And looked up – what seemed like a lantern
Descended down a spiral staircase.

Part 3

“What do you want at this late hour?”
Through a grill in the door an old man
Peered down with bushy eyebrows.

Cautiously he opened the door
As I sat crouching – He wore a long
blue robe adorned with sun and moon.
On his ankles silver wings glinting

“Water, that is all”

“Hmmm” He handed me a wooden staff -
I felt supported by strong unseen hands.
“Come in”. I followed him slowly up
A tight spiral stair and came to a long
Triangular room. “Sit by this fire and drink”

The fire was mesmerising – it made me
Imagine I was touched by a sea-breeze and
The green liquid he gave slaked my thirst.
“I know your true name, young Page –
It is not what you think”.
“Who are you?”, I asked. “Oh I have many.
In this place, I’m the magician”

I told him of
my desire to find the woman from the Oasis
“Hmmm” he lit his pipe.
A devilish business chasing a mirage”
“But she’s real, she saved my life”

For a great while there was no answer -
I watched the smoke from his
Pipe rise and tie into intricate knots.

“You will need my help to find
This woman…and great courage -
If you sleep soundly tonight
I will give you my help tomorrow”
He walked out the room and
Locked then bolted the door.

Part 4

As if expected
There was a bed of crisp white linen
Behind me. As a clock struck 12
I climbed in, but every time I tried
To close my eyes the room
Seemed to change shape -
Square then oblong then triangular.

I got up and sat by the fire –
Throwing a black log onto
the embers I thought of Mary
Until the flames grew higher
Then the room went dark

*

…I felt a hand on my shoulder
And stared into a long white beard.
“I see you have slept well Page –
It is past midday, time to be up”
The room around me was a perfect
Circle bathed in sunlight.

All that day Hermes showed me
His amazing tower room.
It was full of books and physic.
He taught me a spell to bring
Rain and one to shield from Sun.
He gave me a charm to inspire me,
An equal armed cross on a chain –
Its centre had a perfect red rose
Cast in silver
“Show this to the wolf and it will lead
you to the Green Man…

And one last thing – I have sewn a
Secret map inside this bag – open it
only after you have found your Lady,
It will guide you safely home. ”

I thanked him profusely…
“How can I repay you?”
“One day you will acquire a tower like this
…use your magic to help others
You will honour me well”.

Part 6

I left the Magician in the morning.
He seemed to be standing on the
Roof waving. He had given me directions
Away from the desert towards tilled land
And as I travelled desert turned to scrub
Then turned to fields, though I couldn’t
See the owners

Eventually I stopped to rest
by a tiny stream. Next to me
Was a single tree and on it sat
A blue or green or purple
Shimmering bird.
It began to sing, better even
Than a soloist in a Cathedral -
Some parts imitated human speech
'Follow me' 'Follow me'

Indeed it was such a melody
That I had no choice -
Its staccato flight led me
Into a dark wood.
Soon there was no more music
And the thick leaves and branches
seemed organised to block my path -

I lost my way

Until following a black stream
Half covered in dead leaves
I came into a clearing
And there was a monk
Tending a small row
Of glossy leaved beans - his feet
Were bare and caked in mud

"I am Francis tender of forest
Beans" - and on his shoulder
Alighted the same bird yet
It was now pure white.
He smiled, "This bird
Is called a rainbow dove
It mates for life"
And he stroked its bill

"Let us eat" he pointed
To a small wooden cabin
Covered in scores of crucifixes.

Dear Pope Papa Pulak the 2nd

As your representative in the North
May your authority rub off on me
(especially onto my purple parrot's
Feather crown, which remindst
Me of yours, my gold god).

I hear, your majesty, you are leaving the South
soon and travelling to Yorkshire. Your Be-Bopancy
I have reserved the best table at Betty's Tea shop -
we hope marble Is not too cold

I can't wait to rub your fourteen wives;
We have readied real handbags of English leather -
a rainbow of calf leather and two pounds fifty
to spend!

The treaty will be laid out by
the cake counter and should ensure the South's
G.N.P goes through the grass leaky roof - I think cakes
and parrots is a strong base for any economy -

Please note the English also have a weak tooth
for Sherbett Dip - I am working on the secret of their
recipe and are close to a breakthrough - we may have to
go to war with all ten of our canoes to sneek a peek at this though.

Must Go-
I want to catch news of their Royal Family
Who seem to be real actors in Eastenders the Soap

"Tally Ho Mighty Pinto Bean"

Yours Puluk Ambassador of the Fair