Saturday, 4 November 2017

Going with the flow by Adam Parry

Flow before you go
ope all the dams and barriers
Wash away the effluence
spread thin this veneer of silence
No more shit or carrion eaters, 
waiting the decay of dreams
the unspoken thoughts
the end of unremembered days.
death dealers on every corner
sell you the nightmare they got in store for you.
so before you go
do the head dance 
and flow before you go.

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

Rose Street by Adam Parry

On the street where you live
I stand musing all day,
knowing you know I am just the same.
But, here, now, am I different here?
On the street where you live
I stand in the sun a lifelong long,
then took a picture of a rose
on the street where you live.

Thursday, 26 October 2017

The Cynic's March by Adam Parry

Wearing fancy dress so no-one will see me.
Wonder should I shout,
offer some protest apart from merely walking?
Oh, he's taking a photograph,
better not smile. This is a serious business
and dammit I can't smile.
Look at the car we've held up.

Saturday, 21 October 2017

A cave of home by Adam parry

Trying to make connections
going into foriegn lands
to feel more at home,
when a search for belonging begins at home.
Yearning for oriental eye
that love as those others eyes loved.
Forever in this Romantic spell,
a Merlin forgotten in his cave with no way out waiting to escape

Saturday, 14 October 2017


They did not hear us
when we said
we wanted no more war.

Will they every hear us?

Cannot now war sleep
into peacefulness.
So we are the true hearts,
even so still super glued hearts

Saturday, 7 October 2017

A July morning by Adam Parry

It seems to me my pin-prick eyes see so slow
holding back a flight into the swift swish  from tree to tree.
Never seems to me.  the morning is now full.
Angel-headed, forgetful father - a vision of the sea in the rent blue
of sky. No, never seems real to me.
Yet seems to me still I am the fascist,
a country less wanderer moving mountains
with a stolen song. Birds roost on my shoulder
and later the skateboarder wind away and it seems
a breath of wind blows the fascist father away and I know
fascist father will find his fascist child
and laugh and hold her tight, and this damned Daddy flies away to me.

Saturday, 30 September 2017

Somewhere by Adam Parry

There is a place known only to a few,
not because they covet it for themselves
but because they want to keep it from being lost and stolen and destroyed
they have always nurtured this place
as best they could
and helped the folk there, even through  much danger
and it was not easy.
As many forgot as they toiled that there was nowhere more beautiful,
yet many of the bad folk
whom those folk who had struggled to keep the place fine,
and for every one of the bad there's hundred good,
that will be revealed to all.
And some say that some say soon this secret, lovely place
stretch through the wedge of night
partway between by the sun and the moon.
This land
this Earth
that we call home.