June.

 

Air Fingerprints

Out of the magnificent warm dark windy

Strange sounds of infinitely industrial prayer

Non-nature ghost of process past in distant mills

And un-identity, queer aromas, airs of making

Destroying these eyes with spectral memory

Of chemical moment and gravity, and rabbits

Downwind from this odd airy fingerprint

A walking lecture of past revolution progress

Removed guilty magnificence in our own eyes

Cast useless as far into the dark as yesterday

Turning back to windier chemical conversations

Lost translations, just sounds, love and poison

Upwind, upstream with waterfall magnificence

 

I sit alone and think,

I think 'alone', and hope,

I hope that things will come to pass,

The things I hope are none too few,

I sit alone, and think of you.

I was encouraged to keep a diary in my early years, several of which I still have, in a cupboard, or wardrobe or somewhere at my parents'. The diaries were supposed to help my (still to this day...) crappy hand-writing...and foster the development of neural paths and all that sort of thing. In some ways I think they worked, as there are days written therein that will be much more easily conjured up in my dotage than today, or yesterday....

As I said, my hand-writing is challenging though. I can't get my hand/eye coordination and timing sync-ed well enough to create any of the stylish writing that some people seem to be able to produce almost effortlessly...

And I get side-tracked. Regularly, like now, as I was going to go on to explain that the above shortie was my deliberate, and very conscious effort to begin the path of prose/poetic writing. Somewhere I will have the actual date, but I do know it was 1986.....Rather happily, to this day, I still kind of like it, as it's short, succinct, and the only piece I've written, apart from some attempts at songs a few years later, that I can recall, word for word some 30 years later......

 

 

Beginnings

Here, at the beginning of all things

Nothing

Another view of your infinite deep glass soul

Fracture

Pause, run, panicked doubts as it begins

Cautiously, light-speed

The dance begins, crazed and beautiful

Unsure and abandoned

Everything begins

Thought swimming, diving, flying around glass holes

Places to avoid

Waves of calm intensity

Abandoned reasons, and cautious tendrils

Wrap around loving pauses

Fearful dancers career among the beautiful swimmers

As the most ancient schism, clumsy

Shifts…

Another faith healer skates up to the edge

Of success and reasoning

As unreason preens and poses for the fight

Wrapped in loving arms, she acquiesces and

Somehow

The fliers land

Sure and secure this time, intense, clumsy,

Crazed fractures

Calm at last and deeply, cautiously loved

Beginning to heal the darkest schism

Slowly

With love and cigarettes

And wine

And candles, and a yearning.

 

 

False Memories

Why should I believe,

That all the dreams have gone ?

When I drop back slot in,

Three times in a morning.

Drug free culture,

Fruit juice kissing at bretsa.

And more love than you could shake,

A hippy at.

Slot, click, the views the film.

The wings, skyscraping and sensual,

Telephonic pleas to escape run artists,

With dead pan apologeas to you.

Awakening slowly, slyly perhaps,

Click the pictures, the surround pleas,

For clarity and understanding.

Driftwood, a fire, a beach,

A camembert love affair.

Stars, and missed moments, revisited.

Time machinery, not clocks,

She watches, shaking hppies at dreams.

Telephoning the past, to revise the script,

When dreams create belief,

That all the deadpan understanding hippies

Are awakening from these slots.

With kisses, and skyscraping Kisses.

The second official day of UK summer....

Nice.

That's it, for now, it's Friday, and I haven't been out for two weeks.......sad. So I'm going to make the effort, then realise why I don't all that often and live to regret it!

Thanks for stopping by, be safe, be strong.