Dark rhythm beat pound
Star pin wheel
Dizzying array
Intoxication life
Pollute interllect
Burning thought
Myred grave
Sick stomache
Slosh of pain
Icy dread
Rememberance
Sinking to the marrow
Spun silk thread
Stregthen fragile form
Echo of grace
Little blisters of atmosphere
Litter the hillside
Coloured flowers
Of festival field
Flutter in breeze
Banner bright
Storm lit trees
Rain soaked vibrance
Sun and cloud
Bubbles arising
Liquid dreams
An offering to the sky
A rainbow arch
Fixing memories
To the minds eye
Fairy taodstalls by the bar
Science in the big top
Mice appearing from top hats
Flowered head garlands
And silk head scarfs
A face painted tiger in pink
Called Jean
With monster feet
And fluffy luminous tail
Poetry
And pompom sheep
Ageing cyber hippies
Playing pre-punk goldies
Drum circle pounding
Of an ice-cream filled 6 yr old
Vegan curry consumed
in a dedowin tent
Toddlier with fresh festy wellies
Falls in the mud
Grinning from ear to ear
Asks for milk and settles to the soothing tones
Of the Cadbury Sisters
Pizza and a late drive home
The smell of wood vanish and plimsol rubber
in the slanted sunlight
The school hall a glow
Cross legged and ego we waited
as an old old lady
wrinkled and furry soft
A grandmother like nanny and granny
Weary flat stretched grey shoes
and floral print dress
Hair curled in a white candy floss suasauges
She is helped to the seat
We look at stockings shear and rumpled
As she tells her tale
The ends of her life meet in us
Old as a great gran
Telling of the babe she was
Younger than my brother
being potty trained at home
Its a story we all sort of know
Ice and pride
A ship set upon the tragic path
There’s a song we sing about it
“and the boat goes to the bottom”
Over and over the peril
of a decission chain
She etched into our minds
We know of the families trapped below
Of life boats half full
And an SOS too young to be known
We sit in the old lady’s thrall
She’s not the money – not the toffs
She’s from Dagenham where my uncle fixes vans
She survived passed hand over hand
Crying into the boat
She tells of the fear all children know
Her Daddy was left behind
There was no room for him
The Titanic so long a go
Made vivid in our minds
We feel in our hearts the tears
That she must have cried
Our granny titanic
One of the few to survive.
7 billion minds encoding the rhthym of life
7 billion awarenesses all wired roughly along the same lines
7 billion idea sharers, pattern seeking minds that search
7 billion lives beautifully unique
7 billion hearts to feel, love… hate
7 billion hungers – some needs, some wants
7 billion people
1 is me – another is you
7 billion potential soar
A sea of blinding thought
Carrying the wave of intent
Now to space, now to the deeps
Or to carry us out of the existence
Singularity is coming
Racing on the crest of population expansion
The gentleman sits
in the lovely lit corner
of the too expensive cafe
Older is he
silver sleek
with hand tailored suit
sharp at the creases
Reading the news paper
exuding an old Englishness
He raises his manicured nail
and pushes it firmly up his nose
Rooting around
He extracts
with surgical precision
a crisp jewel
The boogie catches the light
from a tiffany lamp
It is transparent
like a bubble
of weak green amber
Twisting his pale lips in surprise
he flicks his eyes from side to side
Shrugs at the lack of witnesses
and neatly places it snug in his pocket.
Each story has been told
So many times
A thousand fold
Some have twists
Some go without
Some have love
The maid and lout
The story arcs
A pattern shown
Over and over
There’s only so many that is known
And threads that
stitch it altogether
Words and stories
For all tastes and weathers
When dreams fail
The stars fall like crushed diamons
Once they had spun as cogs
Nestled together in intracate dance
Now they lay as puddles of loathing
And we consume their flesh
Gorging on insignifigances
Lapping up the pain
Blinking at the luster light
We grow sharp and hard
Adimantian Kings
Imperial and cold
Dark twisted loam
Lay in ribbons
Upon the landscape
River clogging
It choked
the plane
Drenched in the bones
Of those who had made it
Toxic leachate
Spumes forth
Nothing but their corroded skin
Killing the life
Already obliterated from within
The imprint of the pillow
Ribbons pressed into skin
Silken mind the smooth warmth of awareness
A pressure calling you to the cold
Gnawing grumble
The hunger for the day