Forlorn

You can shout everything you want about it

and describe in verse how ugly our garden has become

But it's nothing, it's neglected and forlorn

It once shone with ruby flowers and danced with bees in top hats

And now it's not even grey, barely a mist to discover or a patch we haven't explored

it's pale and once green patches dusted into sand

sky above cannot flatter to be grey

its rays dance to other tunes than ours

we haven't even found a corner

in which to settle down

and watch new growth bloom in showers

we can't see where the next flower will come

if the bees will dance

or see

how much of a garden is ours to become

its like

watching grease ooze over the surface of a day old pan

or waking up to find the storm is gone but it's started to rain

Our garden is crying for seeds and light and dreams

And we've walked away to watch

and wait

title

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,

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

down

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


Freak


Pause


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




There

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



~

similarly wise

similarly loving

similarly scared

similarly wishing

Pixie

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

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