The pretentious prattlings of a piss poor poet
From nothing I came And to nothing will I return Between these an eternal agony of existing Bearing me onward Towards oblivion A nobody I was A nobody I will be Lost in this wilderness of being Reminding me always Of my failure Born nowhere I will die nowhere Alone along many paths have I stumbled Unguided, unknown Unwanted
16/03/2021
Leave a CommentI started seeing skeletons on the street the other day Not clean, clinical, comical, classroom ones But stinking, putrid corpses where rotting corrupted flesh Hangs in stinking, putrid strips The puss of a thousand dreadful sins dripping in their wake I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day Their hollow vacant eyes hiding hollow vacant lies Hiding evil done and good undone Inhaling hypocrisy, exhaling insincerity As they crawl through painted gilded lives I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day Where faces were, bigotry remains Where hands were now deception lingers What once was flesh is now duplicity Arrogance like skin wears them well I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day Smelling their lust, their greed, their fear As I walked among these living rancid dead One with them, part of them A fallen soul in a fallen world I started seeing skeletons on the street the other day
08/02/2017
Leave a CommentSilent stone word carved By church and heath Says so little Of the soul that lies Under turf And sky What spark was lit From that mortal frame And raised From lowly shepherd So divine a voice In this lonely place? I feel a debt Of thankfulness And humility To this kindred spirit Whose majesty I feel Reaching out As I stand Before the Silent stone word carved
19/09/1998
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How many years have these stones
Here stood?
Mute watchers of hurrying seasons
Here where once lived voices
'Neath turf and heather roofed
Lie now open to storms hungry soul
Windows where eyes once gazed
On walls and ferns and burn below
Now lie open to the clouds
Like needle eye unthread
All is silent now
Except for winds harsh howl
Garden grazed by black faced sheep
Lichen grows on fireplace
Where peat a family kept warm
All is cold now
Untended
Unheeded
As I walk on
18/09/1998
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As I stumble through this existence
I wander past
Rows of stark stone prisons
Encaging sad suburban souls
Within their lifeless, faced-brick cells.
They mete out their unhappy existences
Behind tired chintz masks
Vying with each other
In uselessness
And emptiness
Trying to be the first
To new levels of unhappiness.
They seek to pacify
Their material gods
With plastic offerings
Lain before a brushed chrome altar.
They have the same oneness of mediocrity,
Of outward decency
And inward moral gangrene.
They talk of the weather,
The news,
The garden
And inside they lust
For fornication
To the world they are virtuous
And to the universe nothing
Forever NOTHING.
13/07/1990
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Winter sunrise
Salmon vapoured clouds
In beryl sky swim
Geese flying
In playful arrowed form
Pass over me
My footfall
On iced grass remains
A lonely path
By still steaming river
Days early silence
As life from darkened sleep arises
Assails a brooding reverie
And returns me whole
To my humanity
26/11/2009
Leave a CommentThrough the chill mist comes the honk of lonely goose From an island over in the stream Somewhere out of view In the grey light of early day In the field cattle stand Lowing, guiding the days bright entrance Chewing cud and grass Viewing world with watchful eye From nowhere the wheezing whoosh of wings Tells us of swans arising On tall columns of milk frothed air Ahead on dewy bank A heron statued stands A grey sentry to our approach Along path Sided sometimes by sloes In their season Distant comes the whispering Watery sound of weir And mill and stream And the church bell tolling This hour of dawn At the gate in the corner we turn And homeward head To a world more frantic Than this timeless place
22/04/1998
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