early morning (snippets)

avoiding the early morning alarm call
we cram ourselves into each other’s warmth
beneath the blankets and unspoken words
hovering birdlike in thought in dewy air

~

so, shall I sing this morning in
or wait another while?

shall I steal your dreaming
or make you smile?

~

but I know not what leaps through your head
what early morning hopes and fears tease you
my own are whispered hints in search of life
words that will be lost far quicker than they come

~

so, shall I fly this feathered nest
or further line it with my guile?

shall I remain within your rest
or flee upon the raven’s mile?

~

if I had a way to record each word and song
every raindrop, blood drop, tear drop fall
would I compare them or leave them hanging
this one enduring moment won’t last forever

~

so, shall I sow
or will I steal?

shall I go
or shall I heal?

~

what shall I do?
oh what shall I do?

 

There were times

There were times
often coinciding with the end of an eight hour studio shift
when I would listen to the radio late into the night and drift
lying near motionless on the floor like a sedated madman
blowing cigarette smoke up towards the broken ceiling fan
paint stains on my clothes from all those abstract years
of city sound and landscapes that still buzzed in my ears
and out beyond the window past the fire escape ladders
tall cranes would cast their ugly shadowy gallows
along the graffitied brick and timbered warehouse walls

There were times then
when all the world but me was silently sleeping
and not even the birds had alarm called the new morning
I felt alive then as if electricity was coursing through me
as if the needle I had long forsaken had once again been
and found my vein and wrapped me in its calm serenity
a bright red bikini sunset throbbing with Rothko intensity
Kathy, Jack, Frank, Sylvie, Jerry, WB and Charlie B with his lowlife cheap tricks
on the road down the coast cruising in search of mind bending kicks
Florida, Arizona, Tijuana, the famous coast to coast bar crawl

Yes, those were the times
but we knew they weren’t to last, we sought our separate ways
Bill to Kansas, he said living there was a helluva lot cheaper these days
and less violent despite the stash of guns and ammo he kept
for hunting and shooting and for clearing his debts
or killing tooled up rednecks when the day of judgement came, we’d joked
in letters and on postcards that kept the fires of friendship stoked
Kathy and I to New York until that mess of crazy didn’t work out
Jerry and Frank to California’s Laurel Canyon hideouts
Jack the jazz-fuelled wanderer, well, he was in it for the long haul

And those were the times
when we honestly believed we would change the whole goddamn world
when we marched with Anti-Vietnam War banners unfurled
from Greenwich Village to the Golden Gate Park
from Washington DC to Washington State we left our marks
on celluloid, vinyl, paper, pavement, tenement, in space
on canvas and Polaroid Andy caught almost every angle, every face
and blended fact with his fiction, his pop with his art
but it was all too much for poor Sylvie’s heart
the talons that clenched, the babes that bawled

Yet those times were
and forever will be indelibly tattooed upon my subconscious
in psychedelic dreams tripping with a lyrical lusciousness
and it is why I lie here with poetry and jazz and art alive within me
here on this apartment floor motionless and carefree
the voice of the late night deejay a lone performance
at this very minute, this hour, this life of mine, of no real importance
I am lucky to have dodged death’s unholy harpoons to tell my tale
like Ahab and his godforsaken avenging whale
these lines I think, I breathe, I gift, I scrawl.

 

for National Poetry Day:
https://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/

 

Poem of the Week

I’m very pleased to say my ‘at the sink’ is this week’s Write Out Loud Poem of the Week. You can read more about the poem on this link:

https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=70473

photo credit: BBC Films / UK Film Council from the film Fish Tank (2009)

A Mighty Leaf

The mighty leaf lay on the ground
A blanket for the lost and found
Within the woodland’s earthy realm
We kissed at night beneath the elm

In daylight hours the sun had shined
Our hungry lips had warmly dined
On this and that and pleasant stuff
That quenched our love near enough

Seasons came and seasons passed
No-one questioned, no-one asked
Why the leaf turned crinkly brown
From winter’s cruel and frosty frown

But we all knew the months ahead
Would offer up more paths to tread
One for hardship, one for pain
And many days of freezing rain

But all good things to those who wait
Get on with life, don’t hesitate
For when the mighty leaf turns green
Spring’s passions will turn libertine

at the sink

She’s at the sink pointing her finger at me
half turned away from the pile of dirty dishes
white camisole over rainbow striped panties

She’s looking down the barrel of her arm
aware that I’m staring at her bum and thighs
smell of bacon fat congealing under the grill

She’s not smiling with either mouth or eyes
dark roots shadow her bleached blonde hair
static pupils beneath eyebrows and fringe

She’s standing with her belly pushed forward
I’m sat at a kitchen table in a high-rise flat
sun breaking through inner city clouds

She’s not going to say anything until I do
the hot tap drips into a red plastic bowl
there’s a bite mark on her right buttock

She’s got that ‘last night’ look on her face
remnants of mascara and red lipstick
yellow egg yolk varnish on her toe nails

She’s tilting her head slightly forward
taking aim and waiting to pull the trigger
this is how each day begins and ends

Slow Motion Haiku

Morning bed cuddles
Slow motion action replay
Last night’s love making

Cookie Love

I want to nibble on your cookies
find cookie crumbs down your bra
pop cookie pieces in your mouth
like cookie shooting stars

I want to sprinkle cookie love
and taste your cookie kisses
you are my sexy chocolate chip
my naughty cookie mistress
xx

find my other crumby poem here:
https://slideaways.wordpress.com/2017/09/20/the-red-lamp/

 

 

The Red Lamp

if I had to be
an inanimate object
I would be a naughty book
with a raunchy saucy story
read by frustrated young women
who would fondle my pages with love
and drop their cookie crumbs upon me…

crap poem written in a supermarket car park

man in motor
supermarket car park
staring out the window
waiting for his missus
she’s doing all the shopping
chatting with all her old friends
blocking up the aisle ends
BLAH BLAH BLAH

Doris has a bad back
Derrick’s had a prostate check
only popped in for some milk
condolence card, pack of mints
blue badge comes in handy
less to walk and less to carry
a Lidl bargain every day
HA HA HA

sitting with his iPhone
not a clue how it works
son bought it for his birthday
prefers the tele anyway
mainly watches BBC
occasionally ITV
two remotes and DVD’s
WAY TOO MUCH TECHNOLOGY

what’s she up to silly moo
been sat here half the afternoon
here she comes thank God for that
home in time for Bargain Hunt
Flog It, Pointless, worth a punt
and coffee in his Corrie mug
but wake him up before it’s bed
SNORE SNORE SNORE

Helga’s Glorious Tomatoes

I had dropped off the Skyline Drive
Like a swallowtail from a flower
To drift down and catch up time
From the dizzy heights to Charlottesville

Like a swallowtail from a flower
I dropped away from the Skyline Drive
And drifted downwind to catch up with time
For I had been losing myself in the dizzying heights
Where black bears played hide and seek with tree shadows
And the daily procession of Harleys and vista seekers

Watching swallowtails
Dropping off the skyline
Drifting down to Charlottesville
Catching up with lost time

A year ago –
And then this.

Charlottesville, Virginia, one hour later
I skimmed your city limits
Headed slightly south to Helga’s house
My destination, dinner, bed
Charlottesville, Virginia
A year ago
Your first couchsurfer

And then this
This
Of all things
Not a stone’s throw

I remember the tomatoes you grew
That we harvested – a big tray of whoppers
Heritage varieties you called them
Fat and juicy with VA sun
I was your first couchsurfer
We watched fireflies from the decking
Can’t remember your husband’s name
We became friends

I’d dropped off the Skyline Drive
Been watching swallowtails
Tried capturing them on my camera
Black bears that never appeared
Harleys

You said
Take them to your next host
Mimi and Rob in Edenton, N Carolina
Almost ran out of gas on that stretch
Charlottesville, Virginia to Edenton, N Carolina

Almost exactly one year ago
Helga’s tomatoes
And then this
This

–

I came back your way
But we didn’t connect
Our paths didn’t cross
You were up at the cabin
Feeding Luca the black bear
By hand

Silly, fearless, generous Helga

I came back your way
Through Kentucky and Virginia
Past confederate flags
America’s slumbering trailer home masses
Stayed in Charlottesville
Worst motel on the whole trip
A brothel
Scary

No Helga’s juicy tomatoes

Drove the whole length of the Skyline
No dropping off this time
No swallowtails either
Just plenty of mist
Ethereal

And then this.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/glorious/