Albine-Gamesman.
His longest surviving
friend
Is a mad albino, well,
intense.
Precocious ?
Presumptuous, perhaps
Imperfect, and only
human.
He's only human after
all.
He had no parents that
we knew of.
No pets, no books, no
T.V.
No need to feed a
craving,
Well, perhaps ignoring
that,
Eyes, lightly
pink-lidded,
And deeper than
forever.
His longest surviving
period of insanity,
Shows no sign of
ending.
No time for new
befriending.
Like a sad pair of war
veterans,
Waiving the medals for
sad pride.
Watching the parade,
drunk and intense.
Wavering down dark
alleys, bomb alleys.
Albino boy and
pitch-tanned friend,
Speaking no audible, or
credible words,
Singing
whalesong-chants in liquor haze.
And we could see they
are only human,
Probably, perhaps its
just possible that,
When the sun dissolves,
they turn into cats,
And prowl,
concentrating on hunting hobby,
Eating the liquid souls
of girls,
Predatorial selection,
no game, no rules.
Blue Rope
Four times the length of your love,
The ropes that bound us in greener times
Four times the drop, to be human,
To eat from platters proffered,
To struggle back towards the home fires.
Smouldering.
Four times you sent me
No times did I ever doubt
My loved return.
The post-apocalypse nightmare, recurring.
We always wake before we connect,
We approach and dance with death, and happy times.
The rope is blue, a trucker’s throw-away,
But you’ll kill me for love no matter
If it was red.
Four times I crossed the line, told you five,
Too drunk to count.
Situation normal honey, broken plates.
Full of doubt and this human struggle
To my own apocalypse.
Four bloody times.
The Cygnet And The Fox.
Anew the cygnet
attempts to rise,
The strength gone, but
spirit there,
And the foxes
determination is
Matched only,
By the pen's anger and
Fatal rebuttal and
Defence of family
freedom.
Your shopping wire
basket love carries
So much static,
Many shocks.
And serves to focus no
vision of
What we could have
been.
Cygnet, you escaped
this time,
But beware the shadows
of
The lonely fox's sons.
Selected Views.
No time
No doubt
Dense mist descends
Befriends
Lends
Cosy sense of security
Purity
Erasing world views
To pews
Of oaken-seated
Gothic splendour
And vendor
Of christian dreams of
Eden
And faint
Musty
Old stone
Church smell
Mingles with
Damp moss
No time
No doubt
No time to try
To see
Without vision
Derision of sense
By
Withholding views.
