When the boy-with-no-hair-cut walked into town,
No one noticed
No face even frowned.
When the boy-with-no-hair-cut walked his beat,
No one passed on by
Or crossed over the street.
When the boy-with-no-hair-cut spoke,
No one heard
No one took note.
When the boy-with-no-hair-cut died,
He had no funeral
And no one cried.
When a bright light penetrates the gloom,
When a jewel is found among rocks,
When a butterfly, an audacious red admiral
appears amongst wasps,
When a cord is heard in a cacophony,
When a flower grows in a parched land,
When a proud stag rattles its antlers
and canters in the wilderness,
When a thrust sings in the city,
When form appears in a shapeless world,
When a smile is seen in
a room full of frowns,
When a rose grows in brambles,
Then my soul-horses grow wings and
Fly with Plato to the realm beyond
the sun.
The speed, the height is intoxicating, impulsive.
Beauty is manna in a land of endless sand.
I must have more, have it all, to reach the setting sun.
But once the light is engulfed the darkness returns.
Once the jewel is plucked from the rock it shatters.
Once the butterfly is locked in cupped hands it
can fly on more.
The chord goes flat in a silent room.
The captured stag bows its solemn head in defeat.
The thrush sings no more.
Form dissolves.
The smile turns down.
The rose shrivels and fades.
Rather let the light shine on.
Let the stag run swift.
Let the rose grown towards the sun.
Then the pegasae will reach that distant land,
And many others will follow them.
A numberless flock outrunning the evening.
For to love is to break chains,
To love is to warm the world with beauty,
To love is to take wing alongside dodos.
I shall never understand the cross,
To think I did would be to lie.
Beyond all pain the mind can comprehend,
Still waits the question, why our Lord should dare to die.
Our God knows we could never stand,
To learn such agonies of man and hell.
Still darkness shrouds that lonely hill,
And gracious love, on which my heart shall ever dwell.
For whom this poem is,
I dare not name,
Lest by my humble verse,
Its beauty I profane.
And I would never wish,
To trap it on this page,
And tame its vatic power,
Like an eagle in a cage.
But truly in a simple name,
Exists the being whole.
Since Earth alone won’t hold you,
My pen can’t catch your soul.
A Proplus in the morning helps me get out of bed,
Then I need a fag or two just to clear my head.
Coffee and tea let me stay up all night,
I share a spliff with my mates and everything’s alright.
Whisky’s all that stopped me from slitting my wrist,
And when I want to have fun I get totally pissed.
If I need inspiration to write or paint,
A nice juicy ‘shroom makes reality faint.
I’m sorted with an E to dance the night away,
When I’m bored and undersexed chocolate brightens the day.
The doctor gives me something when I feel unwell,
But there’s nothing I can take to fill this mortal shell.
As You cradle me in you gentle arms,
You make me gentle too.
As you hold me in Your strong embrace,
You make me strong like You.
You give me every perfect gift and
You make my heart anew.
You take such great delight in me
That my delight none can destroy.
You rejoice with singing over me
Let me sing and shout with joy!
There’s no truth,
no hope,
no certainty,
no sunlight; only evening fog.
Nothing magic,
or romantic,
no happy ever afters,
no plan that comes together perfectly.
And all that’s real is
snacks and television.
I can see the thorns in your eyes,
I can see the scars on your smile;
your body broken,
your haemorrhaging heart.
Your pains are with you forever,
yet you hold them as honour;
badges of brokenness,
above kingly crowns.
And I see my own sufferings,
mirrored in your face;
understood entirely,
tempered with tears.
Silence. Silence.
not an absence of sound
not an empty void
but a doorway.
a doorway to deeper music
to the clockwork of creation.
Elegant songs and fragile cords
gentle ripples only visible on a still ocean.
Poetry
selection C