Talk to me in the language of sleep

We leave the dust of shadows far behind
dwell in a place that is rainbow lined
unvoiced, unmaned like dew we stand
upon a thought of grass we weave our land.

We leave the dust of shadows far behind
walk tall as whispers or thoughts without a mind.
You are colour I am sound
our technicolour souls rise from that mound.

Shortcuts in DNA

The torsin cyrve, a hurricane in an aether took me down to the third basement of the University Library the cyrve held me up, drunk on words as I walked down aisles stretching high on chairs to tenderly take slim volumes down sit in a chair reading, reading always reading.  I feel small here, small as the number of sentences I have read while all about kalisdesopes of words crowd in clouds awaiting eyes and voice and imagination. The touch of a book remains as the hurricane storm diminshes, torsin holes close now new knowledge lent to the everyday. Within me, in each drop of blood a magic battle spreads unconstrained, refashioning me, reopening me, ready for suprises, grateful that unconditional love is so often a suprise.

the leavings of love

All that is left of love is ours
now love lies unkempt
lost as a bedroom head
hair still dreaming.
Now love is found with an open door
as sunlight streams. 
All the churches are closed,  but,
does God wait for all of us to know him?
What is left of God is all that is left of love.
An ancient God old. too tired to keep an eye open in this heat,
but God's heart still holds with a eternal beat,
takes time to reach a well crafted cave
and holds his Goddess at last so near

Hospitalized

Hospitalized
cos we're to good
not greedy as the homes you feed
always taking too much
of a good thing.

Hospitalized
cos we do not know what our other
hand is doing
glad of our obsessions
small comfort in our secret moonfed night.

Hospitalized
cos you are always leaving us
and we don't feel any love.
Secrt stories tell us how we feel.
Hospitalized
because of our grieving hearts

lost in a mirror

Lost in a mirror,
dreaming
hard hatted and holed heart,
but the reflection
dissolves away
to what I am, so scornful
of new shadows
crossing the edges of my eyes
so proud of the no things
I produce
so self deluded
I no longer
own my own face.
So in a chair I look at that man so lost in a mirror there,
but still dreaming.

Thoughtlessnessly

I was lost in thoughtlessness
waiting for the silence to end
the adverts turned themselves over
a day to snore away the oblivion.
Yes, I was lost in thoughtlessness
flicking noisy fleas from one braincell to another.
A blonde topped figure, long, lithe
and unloved hoved into vision.
I had to make a quick decision. Her face as she
came closer made me strain with recognition.

"I know you, do I not? Been so long since we spoke.
How could I have forgot?"

An image of us dancing
of us walking in a funfair
chasing her down a mile of Helter Skelter
and a thousand years of time.

Though, no, we never spoke and she walked past, but,
I was no longer thoughtless
rememebering all our myriad meetings
in those days so long ago
those days my heart collided into love my soul crashed into joy.

Then I found myself in thoughtlessness
and said enough of that.

Tramp or Tourist.

Here in the break of a day
high on my sunseat
the river plays stage left
passing me centre stage somewhere
round the curve stage right
playing old songs with it
like a seagulls lullabye.

But the tourist stays on holiday
now always and there seems nowhere left to go.
Tossing away those sweaty well photographed clothes
the noble tramp emerges
dressed in hair and old shoes that takes him over to a
green verge across the swamp of road
feasting his eyes upon the foxgloves there
and the high oaktrees always at the corner of his rain washed eyes,
he finds his hotel room under sad stars.
She walks with me, he thinks and throws away the currency of leaves,
then lies upon a bed of twigs soft as mown grass.

Here in the break of a day
I travel round this world just to get my footsteps in time
and a new song in my head that ryhmes.