Memories of Bordeaux last year. I feel the need to go again:

 

Captain Camel and the Band of Hope

 

Captain Camel and sweet Alabaster

pedalled for all they were worth.

Twisting tightly the rubber rope

that would take us from the earth.

This rubber band, the band of hope,

twitched and twanged 'til taut.

Joystick hoofed, and a plume of smoke,

My baby be good to us.

Poets quivered int...

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Our silence feels criminal
A broken law of friendship

I don’t see you anything like enough
And enough is not familiar
Anymore.

I mouth “I’ll see you very soon”
But only time arrives
If not today
When?

A cold TXT.
the mobile phone
petty nourishment
for the wilting petals
grown
of natural friends
we germinated together.

such fun times.

And whilst we may well
both be unhinged,
in our own special way,
Poor excuse for sil...

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A poet walks across the shore,
Shoeless, reciting a song
The beach is empty, the sea
Crashing against the rocks,
Washes up a beautiful woman
She’s naked
Golden hair, white skin,
An English rose
He hair covers her soft breasts
He gives her mouth to mouth
She coughs, chokes,
Sea water leaves her lungs.
She gasps and falls into his arms.
Angel eyes look into his,
His hands run down her face.

They kiss.

For a secon...

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Physical

 

Call me a dog

I don’t need a leash

Call me your ID capeche (understand)

I don’t need restraint

Do you really need to live your life like a saint?

You just need to give your body what it needs

Your desires need to be fore filled.

Then on to the next one

then on to the next one

I’ll take you from A-B

Stick with me

eat drink have sex and be merry

...

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I dream of you as the last gasp of daylight fades to grey

And the array of diamonds set off the encrusted moon

I dream of you as neon signs give there dancing colourful displays

And the symphony to life they bring, even in the still of night

I dream of you as I stretch out my hand, to caress your thigh even when you aren’t there

And warm imaginings of your body next to mine

I dream o...

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Thank you father
Love in a life (pt1)

Thank you father, father time
you lent expression to my rhyme
Thank you father for your crutch,
and your comfort and your touch
Thank you for enabling days
for calm deduction through the haze
Thank you for the self-reflection,
guiding hand and mind protection

And for the way I’ve been of late?
You’re thanked again with each new date
Your thanked for holding both my...

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Landed, my embarkation card

not filled in - Ich, Ni, San

I know my name, but suddenly

it’s not mine; I drop my pen: Get to the back of the line.

My face fit’s so they let me in

my stature small, body thin.

I spot you in arrivals; your cap

gives you away, we head towards the

station: Insistent, you kindly pay

Tenojii - Hirano - the neon lights

blur my vision, your anxiety hidden

...

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I run through the garden,
a labyrinth
of my life,
and still
I have not found
my center yet.
But I continue to run blind,
feeling the ray of sunlight
on my skin
or feeling the cold rain
soak down into me,
and I still run.
My fingers touch
the soft petals
of the red roses
that hug these green walls
of my prison
for love will never free
the person still locked inside.
I don't know who I am,
so how are...

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Pasted below is some publicity blurge about my new book. I hope Write Out Loud readers will take the time to read it. You can preview the book at  www.mucusart.co.uk/wap.htm

and even buy a copy if you'd like. I'm thrilled with it and the feedback so far has been great.

So, if any Write Out Louders do purchase a copy then let me know what you, and more importantly your kids, think of it.

 

WE...

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Up yours
ucker

Cock and tucker
Away

Up yours

let words
Dance scorched
On my tongue
As I spit them out

Up yours anal retentive
And yours tax collector incentive
And yours bigot beer belly jeer rhythm inventive
Inner fear may secretly love it
The big indifference
Big time
Pen pecked
fuckers

Oh and up yours

Don’t give a flying handbag
What you say
The more you poke
Attempt the slay
The more fire breathing

Up yours

Freedom o...

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With Andrew Motion's term as UK Poet Laureate up next year, I'm wondering what odds the bookies are offering for his successor, and more specifically what odds they would offer for me obtaining the role.

1000 – 1: I would hope or more.  Quite simply because:

1) My reputation is not as big as I would like

2) I would turn down the role as I do not think I would do it justice.  I find the idea of b...

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Everything moves to a rhythm,

conducted by the universe.

The universe is a bass drum,

Pulsating, a song with one verse.

 

(Let me know what you think.)

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Landings

Dedicated to Pete Crompton who found the room where he was born

Waiting by the window
In the car park
Or in the branches of the young beech trees
Holding on
Listening
Expecting
Have you done this before?
Which one? Which one is yours?
The woman lying quietly, catching every beat
The woman pacing on puffed out feet
The woman rocking and rocking again
Or the woman screaming in fear and in pain
How...

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THE LONG GOOD FRIDAY February Blog 2008

 

All night long the wind’s been whipping the tiles, and I’ve set my new super duper DAB alarm for six thirty but I can’t get to sleep and it’s already turned two. Somewhere in the ether is a heavenly choir which forces me to twice check to see if I mistuned the sleep function, aagh the horrors of technology. Then I get it, about three thirty by now, quite...

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