tit for tat

MR FIXIT

Sun, 09 Aug 2009 21:08:16 +0200

TO OLD BLOG FRIENDS

I can't fix my blog!
Sometimes it lets me in
(Superb) otherwise not.

Contacting friends now
Is like using a Ouiji board
To reach another world

A place free of wires
Electrical signals
thoughts that float -

I just look at the morse
Of clouds and try to remember
The faces the usernames
Thee messages they carry.

Comments

LOST ENVOYS

Fri, 29 May 2009 12:50:53 +0200

LOST ENVOYS (song)

Bust open the clock
Think of a rhyme
Tick Tock lock stock
And six Gatling barrels

The Viet Kong practice
Shooting the messenger
Flown in by Kissinger

Ring ring
Who's there
I don't care - yes
I'm the envoy sent in
There years ago by Mr Blair
Do you have any Playboy
Juggs or Mayfair?

Hail Mary Mother of God
I'm floating down a stream
Holding a briefcase
Blowing bubbles of red

My dream was to be elected
To the College of Cardinals

It's just not fair...
The Communacado's in my hair

Comments

TRAVELLING WITH BARE CHESTED GOETHE

Tue, 21 Apr 2009 20:18:19 +0200

EXPRESSIONS CATCH - 1

There is a tap-root pushing in the
Dark -White, ironic and insistent;
There is a splendid melodic line at
High altitude (I think it is
A splash of jazz - a lark)

There is fallen Viennese souffle,
Diplomacy, war - the bravery
Of writing for a blog in a war.

There is volcanic rain, scoured plains
Gnarled North-Rennaissance fingers
Sketching heroic burned marble.
Fleshy fireworks ignite the stolen
Herculaneum kiss....

EXPRESSIONS CATCH - 2

There is love - and the strange
Double beat of new harmony at night.
There is intelligence, the round of stars,
A galloping horse in it's
Narrow field, unseen - alone.

We are more than the Sun-heart tethered
In our petty kingdoms. Men desire the World
And are imprisoned inside rainbows.

SERMON 1

Mummified computers and senses
Fall away - People need a safer place.
A permanent store of perfection
For good and evil, for invention
(For the heart of God is very old
And very strange).

Comments

THE POETRY EMPORIUM

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 11:43:42 +0200

TREE OF POETRY

This poetry will be empty;
A sphere of possibilities
A receptive negative, before

The click of realisation.
The lightning tearing down
A human tree of nerves

THE POETRY EMPORIUM

At my store there's nothing
Visual, all is a-b-c-d-e, things
For the mind, a pulsing fork,
A super highway of words.

You must add instincts
Colour, 4 elements, a few clouds
To set your preferred scene - then
Just sit back, relax and dream.

Comments

TRUE GRIST , FALSE GRIT

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 23:22:22 +0200

SHE SEES CLAIRVOYENTLY...

To where waves in his muscles
Store the peaks and troughs of
Seven crashed relationships,
Employee shouting matches, the
Sensitive arabesques and curlycues
Of lumbar regional sex
(which almost hit the spot)

And reaches out to provide the
Sure and knowing grip of the Amazonian
Goddess, guessing the tense history in
Each shoulder knot, tracing solemn
Bumps in a rotund torso -

To reach his deeper archaeology of pain ....
Factory redundancy, stolen kisses, evil
Saturday night suppers, and a 2nd division
1970's blizzard wrecked football match.

Comments

THE PERFUMER

Thu, 16 Apr 2009 11:52:05 +0200

THE PERFUMER

Distilling pearly vials of red
Into a bucket, spitting daffs
Out of his mouth, he tastes
Meat and two veg in mashed petals

Then turns up the bunsen
To max, to hear fields sing;

His aim is an apococalypse of needs
In pippette, a captured feeling of
Procreation, reducing a world
Of thought, willpower, emotion
To patented smell.

RED PERFUME

The rose is a whirlpool
That opens layer by layer
To give out fragrance even

Though it's beauty will die
And the fate of loveliness
Is to be crucified

Comments

DEMOLITION JOB

Tue, 14 Apr 2009 13:51:49 +0200

STANDING TALL

March by, clench fists
Reveal patriotism -
Heavy duty thoughts

Salute this chimney, busted
Door - A ghost of a warehouse
With leather-clad workers...

The whole ensemble stood
Proudly intact through
Two World Wars.

DEMOLITION v.2

Raised slowly in 1904
Given a date-stone, and a team
Of skilled men and labourers
It will all be over in a day.

The machine is round the back
Playing hide and seek, packing muscle
It's elongated limb and pincer extracting
Dirty wood from the second story -

The front is still open for business,
but it's being eaten up inside. Soon there
Is a shower of wood and slate and brick;
I'm in Normandy circa 1944 – I retreat

From a great cloud of dust as
Another piece of industry and commerce
Falls away - and I think about
Bradford Town, Time, Ecclesiastes.

Comments

COASTAL JUMBLE SALE

Sat, 11 Apr 2009 01:24:42 +0200

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH THE SEA

I want to live still beside
The manic ocean, unburden
These fazed emotions and
In that broil and tumble
Join arms around the world.

Comments

A BRADFORD SUMMER IN A GONDOLA

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 23:54:02 +0200

BEAUTIFUL CLICK

Your wonderful camera
Has a poet's eye
You point it up
It drinks the sky.

LOST

Every falling flake
From a wildflower

Each swirling snowstorm
In which men are lost

The twist of
Scewered lover's hands
Each thing reveals the cost.

LAST NIGHT IN THE BAR

My nerve is dying -
Can't seem to hold
This fractured glass

My friends are flames...

Blood is dyed
Whiskey, there's a smoky
Idealism on my breath

And I love you sweet
Like a chess player
Needs an exciting game,
Like a mouth needs a kiss.

SAILING AWAY

(A Tribute To Cole Porter)

To define myself
By a whole bunch of words
How ridiculous, my tongue
Wet and rigid as a tombstone.

Oh I can talk and emote -
I can smile and erode the
Distinctions we smudged
So easily in conversations

But I can sail away in a
Broad white cotton shirt
And land on your doorstep -
To drink your smile...

***

Charm is my singular name
My tongue covered in caviar
Wit on my tongue -
We dance in bathrobes
Newly monogrammed stars

So will you take me in -
Take me to your room and
Tie me to your breath -
To keep me completely free?

Comments

CHILDHOOD IS A GREAT BUCKET OF FUN

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 00:32:05 +0200

THE SECRET TRUNK

Mum and dad
Never explained creation -
The fission at the centre

So I learnt it from a tree trunk
Hollow with criminals,
Venus eyes, and fantasy

A BODY WITH NO SCARS

Childhood is a bucket of fun,
A place to get real dirty
Then wash if off white bodies
In memories with no scars.

SPLIT OPEN

Were all beautiful
In our innards

In the yards
Of place we know;
Like the open countryside
That calls to our heart
With love and tranquility

We ache inside
When truly split open -
In those moments
Some people overflow

Comments

CORRESPONDING TO DARKNESS

Fri, 10 Apr 2009 00:02:06 +0200

POEM CHAPEL

Cliche as it sounds and
Contrary to expectation,
This poem is a chapel
Where criminals may beat
On the door - seeking sanctuary

WRITING IN THE DARK

Writing to friends
In the dark hoping
The slopes of my letters
Join up good and that when
I wake up it's not

Just some comedy loop the loop.
I don't know any of you -
Is that why were close?

Yes don't know you folks...

Yet I believe a stranger
Will never kill,
Hurt, or cancel out
These bright hopes.

Comments

THE SALINE SAVIOUR

Thu, 09 Apr 2009 21:20:24 +0200

DREAM

Dream til the sunrise
Fills your eyes with
Things beyond
Manipulation.

THE TAPE DECK

Are you concentrating?
Time to speak Mr Smith
On love childhood your
Obsessions
Did you breathe
Use the contraption
We put in your chest

Did u enjoy
Your life what a life
We gave you a life... (click)

Tape (rewind) tape
Too fast...(szeez-banga)
On nothing mu..(click) as we
Press unravel your
Silver tongue

SAVIOUR

With devious thread
You sew up my eyes
Beat me blue then

Snip those eyes open
So you can be seen
To be my saviour

Comments

SHAKESPEARE AND MILTON CATCH RATS

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 21:39:04 +0200

SCRAWLING...IN LOVE

Love is a silky
Molten nib of ink

HOW TO PROVE
YOUR IDIOT CREDENTIALS

Open the throat
Gulp in moist air
Form dozens of vowels mixed
With liberal consonants

Dress up as Boris Johnston
Hire a marquee and crates
Of Beaujolais and wonder -
Is your 2nd novel any good?

Comments

TURNING AN ANGEL INTO A BLOKE

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 18:51:27 +0200

AT THE CIRCUS

Roll up roll up for
The fun-of-the-fair!

See the
Sweet talking
Wire walking
Chance taking
Lip stick wearing
Obesity sharing
Bear hugging
Testosterone making
Freak 'O' nature...bloke

RED BLOODIED ANGEL

The notches on my spine
Are hung with rainbows

My arms are made of wavy materials
My breath is the stuff of wings

I put down my tools
My X-Box, my roll up

I want good things now.

TREE-ANGELS

Every tree is an angel
That sky-dived into the earth
And spread it's fingers
Into the moist ground.

Comments

THE SEARCH FOR THE WORLD'S... MOST SELFISH POEM

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 18:13:23 +0200

SEARCHING FOR THE CENTRE

I'm an exciting advert for
Blonde auburn mousy straight curly
Hair - obese svelte pear shaped
Maverick kid-mogul - an opinionated
Shy tongue tied pathalogical
Liar - called Poet

***

ME ME ME

I grew from an embryo
Learnt to swim
With eyes closed

They put something
Fluttering in my chest
(It gives me no end
Of silly trouble)

I rode the red chute
To greet light,
To greet breath

Felt from day one
The overpowering need
To press the flesh.

***

I - SINGULAR

I am the dot
In the centre of the pupil

The real smile behind the
Canvas hide of Mona Lisa

I am myself
(Do you hear this
Who is doing the publicity here?)

I Am I

All external - all history -
Almost - lets face it - Dead.

Comments

FISH AND FLYTRAP

Wed, 08 Apr 2009 03:04:06 +0200

NO CONTEST

In a no holes contest
Between fur and flesh,
I know I'd come off second best.

BEARS IN THE WOODS

I'm a lonely human
Prone in my log cabin
With a primed imagination
Rows of tins and jars

And the wood outside full of
Jelly noses and two hundred
Pounds of starkly curious
Fur claw and muscle

FISH AND FLYTRAP

I bait my trap with fish
Heads, wait for the
Desperate bears...

But they're
Caught inside the
Wonder of Winter
Sucking on the roots
Of their trees

Comments

ISLAND ZERO

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 23:16:28 +0200

DREAMINGS OF THE REEF

Someday I will have more
Energy, from a larger than
Expected crop of shellfish -

Someday I will dive down
To the boat where I was
Lost to civilisation

And struggle back with good things
In brass and paper to read, a
Playboy t-shirt, the temptation
Of crated corned beef

And for the first time in over
A decade, lying under my tree,
I will be able to write that
Carved delicacy called poetry.

THE CAVE

My deluxe home
Rooted in strata
Covered in slime and
Violently baked all year,

Somehow leaks when I
Remember my childhood

WHITE MAN DEVIL

Tracks of ships
Tracks of vertical clouds
Minefields
Hidden in the bush.
This white man burns...

ISLAND JUICE

A mackaw flies
I feel the juice
Running over my
Roughened tongue -

Smell the fragrance
As you crush a perfect
Grape, representing
This island
Were marooned on

My feet plant
Crisp indentations
Under an scalpel moon

The sea sucks the beach
And nothing here
Can arouse us
From our deaths

Comments

DREAM PHOENIX

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 13:40:35 +0200

RED IMAGINATION

Love a link
From wing to beak
Break the shell

Tears in an inferno
Of handwritten notes

Cracks in the soil of
The tongue, signs of life?

Comments

THE AFTERMATH

Mon, 06 Apr 2009 16:35:51 +0200

ASHES

No man can
Live long on cold ashes -

Yesterday the fire came
In war, then hot smoke.
Everything was destroyed

Now my body is charred -
I look at my heart
Cold as a stone -

Nothing gold red or green
Can live there anymore.

Comments

THE PARTING

Sat, 04 Apr 2009 23:06:27 +0200

THE PARTING

Tears are daggers
Falling from
A glass ceiling
Into my heart

Words are spikes
To impale the moon
And sun on -

How am I going
To make it right,
When our Milky Way
Is off it's hinge

And the whole world
Erupts with 1000
Unresolved emotions.

BRIDGES

Were all culpable
Of some crime

All I want is sunshine
From your face to mine

WAX LYRICAL

A woman
Finds a friend on a train
And her face comes alive
Softens like wax

ADAMS APPLE ALLERGY

My apple allergy
Makes my lips swell

Then I look like Eve
And feel like hell.

THE SUCCUBOUS

Bathed in white light
Delicious as icecream
She slides into your head
You lick light fondue
Textured wings...

But notice as in a dream,
As your passion takes control
(and you bite a piece out of
Her sugar coated halo)
Theres the hint of a red
Reptilian tail, swaying
Between Pretty Polly legs.

THE BUILDER

Anything real we have was built.
Most objects and thoughts given
To others were good...

But one day our life will be taken away
And all those ideas and walls will sway.

Comments

BUSHWACKED

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 22:24:16 +0200

RANGE TRUE

Freedom to roam
To follow seasons

Freedom to sow -
To place my face
Against a sunset

Mountains
Are tall -
Unattainable

And after
Much ranging
So much heartache -
Only I know

MODERN COWBOY

Bushwacked
Ransacked,
Unattached in

Unattractive
Cellar crack house

Morals hanging
Loose as
Floorboards -
i got your name
Engraved boy

On spit on
Engraved sawdust

And after I kill you
Your tongue will serve
As leather - to
Hang my soul on.

Comments

THE CLOUD APPRECIATION SOCIETY

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 21:56:30 +0200

FIELD NOTES FROM A MEMBER OF
THE CLOUD APPRECIATION SOCIETY

Some stay static as cows
Drowsing all day in a meadow
Of white fluffed grass

One or two range at speed -
Magical clouds that have sailed
From places like Newcastle,
Birmingham, Reykjavik

After many years
We succeeded in placing them
Into three broad categories:-

White and fluffy confectionary
(To contain the curves of sex symbols)
Or effective high altitude fridges
Containing light rain, hail, or snow.

Our last category though, (rarely used)
Is when they become the throbbing home
Of a god who stirs it up, until we see
Him face to face in judgement
In a Category One super hurricane
Or tornado.

POSSIBILITIES

Do flowers put down
Their roots in clouds
Or are they trapped
Again in earth?

Are singers able to
Scale the full range
Of possibilities - to
Flaunt their rainbow hems?

Comments

THE BIG RED HEART

Thu, 02 Apr 2009 16:19:40 +0200

RUBBER HEART

My heart
Is a big red
Rubber ball

People like to stroke
Or lean against it
Or (if really tall)
Bounce it hard
Against a kerb

However, as my
Grip improves
I'll cram it
Back into it's
Little cage to
Keep it warm.

MID-WAY

I'd build our love
A mile high with
My own philosophy;
Enjoy a state so pure
We couldn't breathe

Or build a love
So dirty so cold,
The blasted roots
Of trees would
Never grow there;

Instead I'll hold
You mid-way, betwixt
Heaven and Earth and
Invite you into these
Utensil scarred arms.

Comments

THE FIRING STICK

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 00:18:11 +0200

CITADELS

Packages get brighter
The choices get wider
The citadels of thought
Becoming stronger as
Ninety populations unlearn
What they were taught

Brighter whiter longer
Harder - but what exactly
Have we bought?

THE SLOW BURN

Rock
Pins -
Primed

A cute
Firing
piece
Cocked
To halt
A Life

Ten past six
Mouth opens

A jolly
Strong tip
Repeats the
Injection of
Shells

And as steel
Spins away I
Watch
From a hollow
Plate glass

As one by one
The atoms
Forget
How to be a leg
An eyelid,
A human
Intellect

Comments

THROUGH COLOURED GLASS

Mon, 30 Mar 2009 19:16:39 +0200

GOD SPEAKS

I have been making babies
Since the start of time
Putting two and two together
To create nine new faces -

Reuben, Marmaduke, Marlyn, John
So many to choose from like rubber
Bands twisting against my heart.

I remember the first Demi-Gods
Who were Father and Mother, they
Were under rough furs at midnight
And had began to search for their
Origins - Again! (It was so romantic -
I had a little cry)

And yes, that whole beautiful comedy
Started all over again.

THE HUNCH

I saw a girl
Extremely well made
Eyes like sapphire
Thighs constructed
Of sinewed pain

I thought she was pliant
And willing to teach
Basic wrestling techniques

How wrong I was!!
My cheesy chat up line
Delivered cooly with Bud
In hand, was not very wise
So I received a full bloodied
Punch to my guts.

Perhaps, as I recover here
In A & E, I will conclude
I was wrong in my hunch
About wrestling, it was
Really her Martial Arts
That did it for me.

Comments

BOXING RAINBOWS

Sat, 28 Mar 2009 00:49:00 +0100

CLOSING THE FILE

I show affection
By putting everything
In alphabetical order

Study those photographs
The decades we inhabited
The smiles we shared out
On ski slope and beach

Then reach over
(Click) to close the file

BOXING RAINBOWS

I box rainbows
To survive the
Onslaught of love

Come through
The punishment
The tornado
With the punch

Of affection
Of heavy tears

I was stripped
To the good weight
And bled badly, hit
The canvas hard

But I don't care -
I know I will win
A last title shot

Where all is
Splintered luck -
Shattered rain -
Myriad smiles.

Comments

DEEPLY DEPARTED

Thu, 26 Mar 2009 14:50:52 +0100

OH NO I'M DEAD

My vocal chords are getting
Slack, my belly seems rather blue
- Can't hum a decent tune

A WATER RESISTANT MORAL
(GUARANTEED FOR LIFE)

As I talk
And drink
Ten men die
Perhaps hundreds
Even thousands...

The clouds scuttle
Across the sky
As I relax in
My penthouse

The moral is clear
Wear a Cartier watch
And enjoy your time

THE PROTEST

It was your last wish -
I dropped two eggs at your funeral
The yolk soaked into the ground
The orange absorbed into the mud
Then I left without a sound.

I'LL SEE YOU SOON!

Can't look you in the eye
To say goodbye so I'll try
That angelic white lie

...'see you really soon love'
Much more roomy and kind.

Comments

FREE ADS ABOUT BEARS

Tue, 24 Mar 2009 15:31:31 +0100

HELLO...IT'S A BAD LINE

I heard about the stuffed bear today
- Is it waterproof?

HELLO...IT'S ME (AGAIN)

Sorry to intrude but I once
Was taken to A & E attached
To a bear from the late
Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Is it safe.... and is it waterproof?

REPLY TO ADVERTISMENT

We are the Czech Community in Bradford
And we would like your bear Clancy.
(Petr Cech says it is reputed
to be A3 sized).
Hopefully we can have it
Before Winter sets in.

DISTANT COUSINS

Bears sit like humans
They have tempers
They love chocolate
And are curious about
Camper vans

They need to scratch
Their large behinds

Sometimes (especially if sleepy)
They just need to be alone.

A TYPOLOGY OF BEARS

Sun bears
Panda bears
Great bears
And Care bears

Bad hair bears
Grizzly bears
Gay bears and
Straight bears

Brown bears
Cinnamon bears
O.A.P bears
Spectacled bears

***

Charity bears
Himalayan Blue Bears
Bears with beards
And nervous bears with
Circus collars

Bears in a pit
Bears in bother
(Orphaned bears -
Got no Father or Mother)

But most of all
We like cuddly bears
Washable at forty degrees
To hold on to as we
Drift off to sleep.

Comments

THE THREE LETTERED WORD

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 15:52:38 +0100

WHY DOES BRADFORD CATHEDRAL WORK?...

Can't say exactly why,
I do not follow these rituals -
But on a lunchtime foray
This place does it for me...

It's clean
Every stone or block of wood
Is lovingly placed

I appreciate this city barrier
Crennellating an interior space
The spirit protected
By the stubborn faith of rocks

In ten minutes
I am nearer the centre
the grain of life and its flame
Respected and obeyed.

FOUR ENTWINED VOICES

Do you exist?
I am certain you do not.
No source, no supernatural meaning.

I am my own pedestel and prize
I have raised this point of view

It is based on reason, my ancestors
Risk taking, and what I learned
The hard way, about pleasure and pain.

In a chance universe
The survival of man
Is down to the use of brains
And ingenious tools - regrettably it may
Also be our undoing.

This text - these words
Held in our tribe - with these
Revelations - are the points
We must adhere to –
or burn

Are you a fist -
Do you have nails?

Will you smite us
Or let us off lightly with
Reasonable good behaviour?

I want to analyse the tribal texts
Bring the best of my science to bear
Got to have certainty...

I know I have
Something to do with you -
Some days though I think
That my own mind imagined you
That you are my Frankenstein,

On others,
When I stop thinking so hard,
I believe you imagined me...

I once read you are
The greatest servant of all
That you serve all things -
And I like that
Yet it scares me...

It would seem
You are the greatest whole
The greatest synthesis

To reach inside to you
We must climb down from
The all-knowing head,
To uncover the hidden well

Under the human heart -
That drum always at peace
And always at war.

Comments

THE RAF SOUND EFFECTS DEPT.

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 13:47:40 +0100

AUDIO DOG FIGHT

Rat-at-at-at-at
Kaphut-kaphut
Ping...Shreeeeeee
(sound of fuel escaping)

Ten second pause

(Indescribable - long scream)
whistling sound on burning fusilage

(krakapow PHTOOOUM)
Fizzz.
Silence

The eerie crackle of burning crops

Comments