Boris Bounce....... #random or not #whocaresanymore

Welcome to August 2019....

A few more, trying to keep up the momentum.....nearly there, just not quite. On the plus side, there will be loads that don't make it, as I am growing tired of my juvenile self, even if essentially that isn't necessarily related to historical writings.

 

Unseen

She doesn't see me,

Eyes at -15º or so,

Slow to stationery cars, lanes,

Dark rings, tarmac scrutiny,

Or the thousand yard focus,

Below my level.

I smoke and sip cold coffee,

And look again, she's less humble than the truck in front after all....

No, she's gone, dead eyes,

Car still moves, spirit death.

                                                                       Gatekeeper

 Green Veined White

 

& a view of Hinchliffe Mill.....where, they say, anyone in the world who carries the name, can trace their origins back to......no idea if it's true..........

Survivor.

Sole survivor

Adrift on a green turf raft,

Catching the rays.

Look back in anger,

Remorse, and some regret.

How close could you be allowed

To get to her inside ?

For the last time have you survived

Swansea.

Sole survivor on the shores of landlock,

Send out S.O.S.

And wait for your rescuers.

 Small White

Painted Lady, and a Jasper....

 Small Skippers  ^ v

The Carriage.

So, if we walk back down your

everso conservative road

with brilliant tradition and noble thought

We might find

possibly, in the long grass

at that last bad bend

or the rocky bit just before

The wheel.

Or is this carriage now fucked ?

Should we do anything ?

Or sit in this wrecked shack,

(Once carriage)

Once we might have carried a spare.

Society's angels have evolved,

England's carters, wrights and smiths

Don't let us down now.

Give us your drugs,

Concrete, false gods, free thought, abortions,

Tarmac, fences, A roads,classes,

Photos, giant cemeteries, free expression,

Graffiti, poetry, art, drama, TV,

CDs, trips, cars, trains, reasons,

No "destruct"

Find my wheel,

England, my sweet England,

I fear for your long grasses, and mine.

 
"I'm just a Gwyn....."

Soft-Ego.

The ego slipped out, softer and limper

Damp and somehow pathetic

Moreso

With these new ages of

Altered levels

New eyes, in a slight face

Softer is the damp intent

And somehow altered

Noreso

The id remained irresolute

And unchecked

Non-monitor of heaven's gate

Non-monitor of the world

When not fired or driven

In these new ages

So somehow pathetic

The returning ego is

Anticipated

Gladly

Moreso, if slightly altered

Unchecked, but driven

To new eyes in a softer face

Fried and damp

With one hand on the post

Two hundred feet down from here

Shear, lime and fossiled with

emotions and lost dreams

Millions old, some forever forgot

From this slippery and dizzy height

The dance floor of

The peripheral man

With a thirty mile view

To the borders of heaven and fell.

 

Proper scraping the old barrel with this 30 year old one......
"Step Honey"? "Step hanie" more like..... Ha!:

Step Honey.

I've heard tell, "What you've never had,

You'll never miss,"

I've never had another girl like you,

That eternal clutch and kiss.

"I don't break word with a loved one,"

You told me late one night,

the red strong wine didn't tell me,

What's wrong, or what's right.

The Valentine, and the frippery,

I too soaked in,

If you swam the clear, clear sea,

I'd swear that that was a fin.

How could I tell you,

Just what you meant to me,

Say "Here's my heart..."

And "You're the key." ?

"I told you no lie,"

You'd know I had no need,

Into paths of whole untruths,

You'd have me take your lead.

"But distance," or "But money,"

"But time," or "But honey..."

How come your world's always so

Perfectly, painfully, sunny ?

You hurt me very deeply,

I'll heal in no time at all,

I used to think before you left,

Only you could have stopped my fall.

Gotta love trees......!

Now night arrives

Now night arrives, with her hard intentioned purple love,

And, as the moment springs forth to welcome you in,

The damburst moment confuses the issue.

But despite teenage-recollected, relived intensities,

The truth lurks to strike, to pounce, to ambush,

The best intentions.

No interruptions, but still a window of your brain closes,

Leaving distinct impression, that with the excitement,

The responsible, the dutiful, the obligatory,

Comes the dreamwaking, that its not just right.

Maybe the damburst moment,

Maybe something a lot deeper,

Maybe the resurfacing redhead,

Who I think I need, to breath,

In order to carry on breathing.

A strange, strong feeling,

Beyond dreamwaking, but ambushed,

Still a number of windows to climb through,

Before I can get my head around this.

The obligatory confused,

Welcoming night, in this damburst impression.

The Prisoner.

Misdirected whirlwinds,

Ricochet from stupid coincidence,

And strew zilliad possibilities,

Of chance,

Alternate line and, yeah fine

Words and deeds.

And base-line needs.

Not real

Or

Leap into kralizecian breeze,

Feel chaos and ease,

Into adventure pathways.

Not societal costumier,

Broad arrow.

Time

Runs

Out.



Let's finish for now, on a good note.

Back to single figures again.......

Sheer bloody mindedness is keeping this blog afloat now.......as ever.

#random
or not

#whocaresanymore

#mylife
#hatehastags
#kiss
#poetry