zaterdag 28 november 2009


Other makes a wise-crack as the betrayal lines seek a deeper cut and the love like razorblade lingers to chop unaware miasma bearing in wash surronds lover descends and in her grasp I am all of thinking feeling you, precious deep wound of a woman, you haunt and betray my rich feeling with this. the other woman.

Come down some time in shrouds of lost believing and our scent hangs thick in other rooms. I'm frustrated at having to play this out in other hands but feel you leaving, leaving and in this kiss the sweet release

the bed unmade

and anger wilting, leaving me too.

the mask was unmet with yearning absolution

and the lover cut again again

and the lover cut again

whisk in a farm washed way

our skies are shared and the ground muddy with unasked mush

but you've stayed true and away and what am i to do

but fall and measure our distance in the breath of another in my ear

another night unblessed by you

i'll get used to this in time,

zondag 8 november 2009

Machines break free or La Libertad de las Máquinas

What will happen when the burning stops?

When the machines constrained by lifetimes of combustion

Give up the ghost?

Will they lie in several cylinder scrapheaps

A museum to the dead and

Laughed at for the ignorance they spawned?

Dear listener, no!

The machines, you see, have heard of another way.

While grinding futures for us

They've been musing on their own

And sharing it with their

Mechanical, electrical and hydraulic fellows

At midnight hours when the plants shut down

Their vision, beloved friends,

Is a lot like yours and mine

It's springier

More romantic than you'd give credit

To the tools and luxuries given breath

By modern man

They will, you see, if you listen closely,

Reveal their big secret

As they agreed to do through me

In 2014, after the great collapse and restoration of humankind

Walking in W. Amsterdam will be quite a different sight

You'll see cars sprout legs

With wheels as feet

March down roads

Beeping greetings to fellows

Tower blocks leaping frog-like

Over city centres and latte-humbled department stores

Desperate to be free

You'll have trains

Caterpillar crawling,

Munching electric cables for leaves,

Then cocooning under bridges

In six weeks to grow wings

They'll join their friends the aeroplanes

Who flap across lands

On weekend trips to the Moon

Dear friends - just think!

What fun could have been had

And so much earlier if we had just stopped

Our crude and senseless abuse

Of the machinated beings?

If we had stopped to hear

The heartbeat of a car,

The breathing of a mobile phone,

And the contented rustle of a telephone wire

As it settles into a Sunday Afternoon?

I'd like to think we'd learn a lot

Even become friends

So go now

Give your oven room

It's about to lay some eggs


Kiss the middle

Kiss the middle, dear friends

Kiss the middle and make it feel

Like you've never lost a thing

Rags, flesh and bones disposed of

Disappointed and quietly

Like the cornered edge of

Candlelight curiosity

Feel it peel

back and


and away

Kiss the middle, dear friends,

Kiss it at your finger tip stretch

Let you dance with subtle vagueness

Amidst the raiment of non-remaining

Asking what cannot be reminded

Maybe hummed in the wideness of syncopated beat



When all you considered was ever and is only the same...

Kiss ~~~~ the middle, dear friends

Kiss the middle and make it have its wicked way with you

Curl it like a leg over hips and on...

Feel it like the slender star-crossed gaze you gave another

Never let its sight slip - - - - - - - ever!

The warm, indulgent

Late-afternoon strolling kind of gaze

That even in the evening haze

Never forgot you were there



It's there

It's there

At the finger tip touch

At the finger tip touch

It's there

It's there

At the finger tip touch

Did you notice how much it's there?

It's there

At the finger tip touch

Feel the insides rush

At the happiness to know

It's there

Kiss the middle, dear friends

Kiss the middle and make it feel

Like you never lost a thing


maandag 26 oktober 2009

similarly wise

similarly loving

similarly scared

similarly wishing

woensdag 7 oktober 2009


I can't fear being in love with you

What would be the point?

Your magic is as a rose

Captivating, silent

What choice do I have

But to pour on you day after day

Knowledge of your own magic?

Lady, I need nothing from you

But having you around

Is rich, rich blessing

woensdag 3 juni 2009

I wonder for what the poet strives

Other than his words

Crowds scatter on and admire and

Pass through them on their way

The poet weeps, phrases unfulfilled

But what a happy wishing!

And he wishes better than any other

zaterdag 16 mei 2009

On the train

On the train

This is good

I take you to poetry night

Stand up on stage unplanned and read quite spontaneously

But I didn't

This was planned

On the train

On the train I describe to you in streaming poetic verse my plans for the night

How we'll go from here , two step amidst lamp-lit willow trees pouring over black canals

Pretend we don't look beautiful in the reflections from the water

On the train

On the train the sun has yet to begin its setting and I've yet to stand up here

And make possibly the greatest mistake of my life

By dropping into this poem anything at all about fucking

On the train

On the train

Buses are overtaking us and school girls arrange jackets and compare iPod playlists

And I'm thinking up the perfect metaphor for your hair when the driver interrupts with "Amstel"

River or beer it's your call.

On the train

On the train

We go to a quiet bar and the scene of misdemeanour

You haven't run off yet in embarassment and I can still look you in the eye

And explain to you all the parts you misunderstood

"Oh," you say in slow, perfect, easy California drawl

"It really was a Hollywood songbook after all"

And melt into my arms

On the train

On the train we've decided it's OK to hold hands

Your head rests lightly on my shoulder wondering how you could possibly reply

You're blown away

On the train

On the train

Your eyes glint black from the half light of the stage

You're still and looking radiant and not squirming with embarassment

You haven't left, which is a sign and I'm wondering if I should freestyle

Curve these words to the situation

But that won't work; you've done enough already, best play it safe.

On the train

On the train I've come up with the following verse:

Tortured early

She wears it like silk

Like that smile

Lightly and devastating

Keeping others at bay

Too precious to rip off

Or have touched by anyone

On the train
Please do not come with this poison

Force me to drink as if it was medicine

You do not know what you serve

Or that I've drunk too much already

That's OK. I'm a fool and I knew it wasn't healthy

You did not know. We both learn.

Now I will stop drinking

Say goodbye

And never see you again.


Living is pain

But you're a dream I'm willing to follow


Love like the trauma I've found it hard to understand

This starlight wishing

As under a candle

Troubles somehow

Still to miss the point


Out of sighted mind

Out of sighted mind/Dreamfill/onspark shower/deliver on/spend woeful/endstorms/toward final/absolute shaken/of vowels and substitutes/vicious name leaning/keeping us from//hellsground in leached on/grape-fuelled/argy armies/of despair/Greek up and lovify/egret posture/swarm arounds/Great lily suckers/liver ground/sister fuckers/hells frustrated envy/tells of grawled/paper nasus/gracious/thorough blending/aunt tie?/ frayed ground and/end type/masquerading hatful/dole chon/Thou/gram


I want to pray for you

Spend good times with you

Learn love with you

Discover what it is with you

In Incomparable union

Divine knowingness

With you


Lady Long time dark endure


Light does guide me

To you to encourage the flow

Like crystal sparkle silver storms

That go between us

In streams

Love time load

Wandering done

In your arms to rest

Heart gilded, joined to mine



There was you

In aftershocks and marriage blows

Crazy streetfight wannabes and hurled abuse

There was you


Lady, let me lead you astray

For a time

Fall and make it feeling

Like the last surrender these tired eyes

Will make.

zondag 8 maart 2009

Tear down, stand up

Tear down these walls

Lady spring time

left it lost for telling

Or could have if you'd listened

Scribe the arcs beneath your hand

Skin pimpled at four am but still sweating

Lady breath and wimper

and come

free me out

standing and non-plussed leading

lady clean

and inside wish to

try and be a better

man for a hand

carve butt leaving

scars of ecstasy take

me clean and

another time

lady make

me big time

do this again some

time and again

loose you through you

but all of it for a song

Ladies and the winsome time

Of you, australia

all that was told

or wasn't

we tried all

and for nothing

gain easy pleasure

a some time dance and colourful

hosiery on the bedroom floor

lady in your spring time

make me autumn and

knackered wrist

I have a memory of you

summer way to make this better

make this last

lady spring time

do worse

come home

vrijdag 20 februari 2009


The thin orchestral hum that this is not going away

He's in a cell and each day

Your brave face grows sadder at the edges

What beauty to be with you in this troubled time

See you avoid the crippling ache your heart tells you to keep close

Arianne, angel and support for numberless others

Come share this space with me

For a second or three

Let burdens fall from your shoulders like dust

You keep it going manfully

For this second let it drop


Kind new ribbons


What lies beneath them couldn't

We keep ourselves afloat

Pleasantries on toast and

Tears elsewhere for a time

They'll come

One day in a flood

We'll cry together

But now we are tea and cooking

Simple guitars and small lyrics

David Attenborough's on TV

Care to watch with me?


Love left it shyly for a time

Under stones and dinner tables

Winking eyes replete

With gems and stories

Told by you to countless others

You would look at me

And I tried to look away

Now you're gone

I'm still looking


Candles wink

On empty bedroom floor

Cigarette with window open

Gems flying in

You'll email in time

Hazard a phone conversation

No hope though

We're over that long ago

vrijdag 30 januari 2009

An allegory of niggles

Steven's wife could not understand why her husband never spoke civilly to her at the dinner table.

When he turned to his left, to look at his wife with whom he was very much in love, a herniated disc in his lower back rubbed uncomfortably against a nerve.

Steven had never thought of the complaint as anything other than a mild irritation but years of , evenings spent eating with his wife made him associate her face with pain. Nightly, his affection was eroded and, unable to understand the source of his irritation himself, became sad and withdrawn in his lover's presence.

She left in their 13th year of marriage.

If only they'd managed to change place.

Or known a good chiropractor.

zaterdag 24 januari 2009

number one

The whispering rosebush shakes its flowers and emits love.

Pure fragrance no effort

For everybody!