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It has been a busy day I have escaped a long long way Early on I was talking to Mr. Masefield Resplendent in his business black suit The cut was neat, lined with finest silk The hair was brave, not a Locke did misbehave He was with Elisabeth, is it Mrs. Stanhope Forbes By the edge of the woods, turkey crop and scythe They were wondering at the Moonlit View Of Mr. Francis Darby’s Eastern city As they dared to forsake, partake In Mr. Geoffrey Hill’s grinning cake In the background, surround sound all around Beside you, sang Mr Van Morrison, oh Astral Weeks It has been a very busy day I have escaped ever such a long long way Journeyed almost as far as Camilla Who married again, this day, today I did not go to the service I spilt my tears among the radio congregation Tears of joy and there but for the grace of god go I Or is it the North Wind Blowing alongside the dust ball, to the canal basin That which I am to engage with, in regeneration A long term plan, you say I retort, as if Capability Brown ever saw His landscapes as anything more than nature In full sway, in full public awe Here in Weston Park, under the mid-day Noon time dark Clouds, clouds with Eastern rain And Southern comfort It has, as I say, been a long long day I’ve escaped, escaped in a very busy way Before meeting Mr Masefield I’d scribed a few words of my own Memories of yesterday’s funeral Polish youth, in Polish dress, the Pope was thus blest Memories of yesterday’s other funeral The receivers set the works to rest Oh and lest I forget I’d imagined and spoken, words under my breath I’d spoken, under my breath Another day, escaping death It has been such a long day Escaping in many a different way Unlike the child dying in St. James Hospital By the Poet’s hand in the library compilation ‘Out of Fashion’ I recall the cover rolled Although I did not study the small print I did though take the flyer To hire a china dragon, a dragon blowing fire And I bought some books, go on, take a look Yes it is John Stammer’s ‘Stolen Love Behaviours’ And Jackie Kay’s Life Mask, although I thought The cover was an Eduardo Palozzi creation, it was in fact clay And finally Scenes from Comus by Geoffrey Hill Ticked by the Archbishop of Canterbury no less It has been, as once again I say It has been a long day It is not yet noon, although it will be evening soon Beneath the midnight of the moonlit moon Except that today, yes today of all days Today I am escaping away Available at Amazon

It has been sixteen years I’d say Sixteen years I’ve been losing my way It’s sixteen years Sixteen years to the very day And sixteen years before that score Sixteen years plus some more Another sixteen years Sixteen years leading again, out of the door Then sixteen years, before some more decayed Sixteen years or more I’d stayed, stayed and played With my mother and her lover of sixteen years Sixteen years of unconditional love she gave Available at Amazon

Colour; gold or silver or invisible white, I guess the truth is the colour was not seen. But for arguments sake, and by the way there is no one here with which to argue, so there we have it, the colour was invisible bright white. The weight was between weightlessness and an immoveable load, the burden though was fleet of foot and moving, moving to all parts of the physical being, seen through some ‘in body’ out of body experience. So to give some basis for further thought, if that’s ok, we’ll give it the weight of the pulsating sheep’s heart, pulsating in free gravitational space. Mass, I guess, and force or distance travelled, combine to give some measure of energy or interpersonal, magnetic, dynamic pull. Well it was here, there, took no time at all in flight, yet it consumed all around, and filled every void, it was the size of a cloud bursting, a cloud filling the soul. In this case to add to the algorithm, or the proposition; call it if you will, we will give it the dimension of an almost round-cornered trapezoid in elemental, five dimensional space. In these modern times communication engulfs nation over nation, yet this creation held the communication platform by its own choice, for its own time, without duplex or duplicity, no modem held it bound. For it is power of thought transmission we will, I’m sure you will agree, then give it a level of an infinite skill. There we have it then, we’ve got some components to consider, all that’s left is the combination. But unfortunately, as fast as we can create and combine, we must be aware that there is a strong destructive force not far away. The next bit though is for you boys and girls to take on and complete. All I’ll do for now is give, give, me being a generous sort, I will give you one of many possible endings: Pulsating at the pace of the dying heart, pulsating and fading like a decaying amplitude modulation, slowly arising, slowly declining, slowly disappearing, slowly reappearing, peering in decaying exponential form. In that one moment; here, and gone. Available at Amazon

The stars are popping, skip hopping Into the blood blue, blue night sky A further station of the cross, it is show stopping Mopping up the blessed, blest Pope John Paul The shooting stars fly east to west Fading aureole carried by the borealis Boy I’m blest I am no longer second best Freed from among the rest The night time test is going west Boy I’m blest I’ve flown the nest Popping eyes Stopping lies Dropping why’s And hints of evermore The blue night sky She’ll show me where to lie Hang my hat beyond the falling star I’ve travelled far To lift this lowered bar Back up aside the Byzantine tzar Up into the ether With John Paul meeting Peter Available at Amazon

Recently presented resentment Resent intended descent Pretence suspended, no doubt depended Wait, wait while I say Wait, while I say, say I’m at a loss, at a loss I don’t know what to say Recently, in the not too too distant past Presents were passed, cards were marked Resentment if at large, was held at bay Wait, wait awhile, wait, stay Stay, wait, wait while I say I’m at a loss I don’t know what to say Re-sent the message not received Intended for you found another Descent delayed, laid upon the ledge’s edge Wait, stay, say, say awhile Say, wait awhile, stay I’m at a loss I don’t know what to say Available at Amazon

The clay Moulded Sculptured Warmed Caressed Kissed and blessed The fingers folded Detail’s scolded In frustration Hands They are the artists enigma To build them in a way to reflect a life To show compassion To show desire Hands in motion Yet still Hands that work And hands that kill They are though for today art Art for the gallery visitor The register of culture in miniature Yes today it’s Modigliani and Epstein The Pillars of Tenderness Available at Amazon

Better lines than words Better blind than absurd Cuckold to this life passing by Walking the bridle path While the slow boats whistle by Beside the fields of rye Beside the towpath Dreamboats and dream’s hopes lie Agent provocateur stimulates discussion In the smoke filled rooms Of dominoes, draught bitter, embittered delusion Brighter lights and busy times Brighter whites to blind the philistines Available at Amazon

Around the maypole Purple, blue, orange, yellow, multifarious garlands Dance the dance of May, skipping in, skipping out The maypole dance, skipping, sipping innocence Or did you even then Have your eye on V’s tie dye Around the rounder’s base Serge blue knickers, plimsolls and tee shirts Pitch, swing, run, catch, throw, run, gasp, grasp Run the rounder, round the son’s of innocence Or did you even then Have your eye on Y’s breast and thigh Around the fields of canvas Purple, blue, orange, yellow, beads and bandanas Strum, chord, drum, strum, chord again Strum the summer sun, summer sun of innocence Even then it did you Filled your eye, that festival of flesh and rye Available at Amazon

You are here But I am alone We are together here Together alone The spaces between the faces Are further apart than they’ve ever been We are being here being, being together alone The words climb over the clifftops of our lips And fall to the canyon floor below We are here talking, separate sentences, words alone You are here But I am alone We are together here We are together forever, forever alone Available at Amazon

Old smoke stacks are burning Their last coals of the day The fires will be allowed to die out overnight In the morning the kiln doors will be broken open The class will express wonderment Congratulate each other On their various works of art The art teacher will ache For the student teacher’s vase She’s here on placement Teaching history History shows he will have his way The class of 67 will tease her She will break down in tears The students will join forever friends Form an internet community The lustful liaison will bear fruit Miss Kelly will push Mr Ward In his wheelchair Along Brighton promenade He will have a hand made rug on his lap A sensitive placement Their vase, not unlike history Their vase will not be broken Available at Amazon

Now I’m used up Can I use you Can I write all sorts of stuff White mini-skirt Tight around your thighs Heels only just holding on Flying to every party Catching-up On all that you thought you’d missed Old men can’t help But be enchanted When you blow smoke Right through their eyes Those younger men Once besotted they can’t ever let it lie The older guys They help with your pretending That life’s about something more They blow to you They go propose to you Supposing that nothing’s ever new Available at Amazon

I lay there sideways Frying inside, lying on the floor You were there Lying somewhere, beyond the wall Candles in the window Silk, silk sheets, sunken satin bed We lay apart, together yet miles away You lie next door Maybe that is all All you ever wanted To sleep alone, sleep for sure Beyond those crazy midnight calls Then the curse moved in with the treasure Was it alcohol Or was it rock and roll Or was it just, just for sexual pleasure In that museum place A shelter, a rest Away from London’s pouring roaring rain Alongside the dinosaur Abreast the iron radiator You fondled my balls My fondled balls Were put to your test Before long we were lovers Restaurant tables Vomiting at the seashore Caught up completely We were little mother-fuckers Now it’s over, it’s gone, it’s over Our stations are cold Our dreamscapes we’ve strolled We’ve created bronze from gold Yet still the physical goes on Last rites Even after it’s over Available at Amazon

Your needs made clear It's time to steer A brand new course Some fresh resource I am on my way out of here Where I go I have no fear No desires lurking Just keep on working Keep on skirting around What it was that bound me Surround myself, be impressed Forget, forgotten already the rest You can check, you can test I've finished with feeling second best It's time to be clear This path I steer This lurking fear This skirtings dear Sounds around Outward bound I am impressed to clear No more those words I fear I am out of here Yes, I am chock out of revere Available at Amazon

Afternoon Falling towards evening Passengers boarding Lover’s dreaming Afternoon Sitting there Gazing stare Waiting for boarding Feeling belief in Sitting there Fly away Escape today Horizons new Seascape view Fly away Rambling rose No one knows Your crimson clothes Disguised from foes My rambling rose Stories told Dreams unfold Evenings cold Sunsets of gold Stories did unfold Available at Amazon

Spanish, Spanish dancer Just by chance, bring romance her way Cuban heels, belt studded with steel Just a dancer, bring a chance her way She packed her case in isolation Insincere, her lines of desertion Her package of devastation It could have been the castanets It could have been the Sangria Cuban heels, he’d made her feel Her troubadour of real surreal steal She wiped a tear Folded her cotton handkerchief just so She was torn, though she had to go It could have been anytime It just happened to be that summer Belt of steel Alive to feel Whispered silver clouds above her Blind to recover For her Andalusian lover Available at Amazon

Now my friend Ob la di, ob la da My friend we will be together at the end Sunny Sunday morning, the sower reaps Spring dawns across his meadow Around the world a mother sleeps The sunlight catches the variegated ivy leaf The reflected, crackled, puzzled pattern At least two sides to a life, my liege Now my friend Now my friend My friend we will be together at the end Past patches of frost covered snowdrops Climbing around the growers greens Around the world a lover weeps But they are tears of joy Tears with smiles as big as rainbows At least five lives in each life he breathes Ob la di, ob la da Could go on forever, could go on so far So far as love would let me be, be my friend Sunny Sunday morning, way above the bay One raft for forgiveness, one raft for escape One raft for sharing, one raft for you my friend By the lych-gate the parson is out calling Calling all before, “the spring it is arriving” But I’ll go bless my own sweet lord, ob la di From leaf remember lichen, fore or aft who knows Clinging, thriving, imbibing on nothing more Than life itself Some sunny Sunday morning Sprinkle dewdrops Dewdrops at the shore Around the world, across a continent or more Enigma’s engulf the ebb, the flow Enriched in deepest dream-space Lovers in love with life Understanding if not knowing Not yet knowing all the score Now my friend This is no incantation No medieval or Gregorian chant My friend This is love for you My friend on to the end Then how can we all proclaim this How, my liege my leaf How can we share this gentle awakening How may we release unbounded joy My friend we can go singing Go on singing, ob la di, ob la da Thanks to The Beatles White Album Also to the Sacred Souls of Vermont Available at Amazon

Taw head River Erme Cascades of a ritual, sacrificial passage Swirling ponds of cold water, cold as ice River, rill, rivulet Cascade of a ritual Sacrificial Passage Streams of consciousness Trout, stickleback Splash about Games, games By the rivers, by the streams Streams of consciousness Available at Amazon

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