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...