Monday, 26 May 2014

The Lion: the hitch or the great divorce?

The toothless lion of our youth,
reliant on the roaring stones
of waterfalls and highland homes,
to awe-inspire when free to roam,
has raised his mane,
objectively,
and prowls the rain,
and clears his throat,
to ask if we still love him:
vote...

: "Of course we do,
  we all need friends,
  the jungle will be safer then",
: "the more we have, the safer still",
: "our lion can protect, not kill".

I heard a kid the other day
considering the lion's share,
say "if he takes what others eat,
how can he sleep and say that's fair?"

We love the lion,
and his peace,
uncomfortable to make this choice,
we seek relief,
a champion's voice...

Another jungle had a king,
called Kenny,
on his words we draw,
to tell the lion at this time,
it's "mebbes aye
or mebbes naw".











Friday, 23 May 2014

Voices from beyond control

...on these streets i once belonged:
make these feet move
one by one...

...in this car I thought I owned:
take the wheel Lord
drive me home...

...in this body: blood and bones,
fused and mingled,
breath on loan...

...in this garden, in this home:
when I've watered
you have grown...

...i sail this mind of overload,
beyond control,
these memories roll...

Tuesday, 20 May 2014

ghost churches/new haunts

Ghost churches,
where somehow some forgot their place,
and lost and sold the plot
(the Spirit shown the door,
still pain creaking in their stoic joists)
retreat, rebrand and resurrect:
your carpet warehouse,
your local Indian restaurant,
a night out at the theatre,
or the perfect home
among the graves,
a place to lay your weary head.

Unsuspecting,
souls stop to sip this new communion,
with gone
generations mingling in the ether,
their trapped psalms jammed into the brick-work,
their spoken blessings looping onto shoppers,
diners, leisure lovers
in these gifted buildings,
sent to the wind,
to be transformed again,
when Spirit, once more welcome,
settles in.

Monday, 19 May 2014

catch them while you can...

bright ideas
lurk
in darkest thickets,
prone to prowling,
focusing their prey,
their sinews itching but
biding their time,
staring you out...

Pouncing,

headlong into your psyche,
letting you deflect them
or forcing you to face them down,
devour them whole or
consume a fleshy bite,
in this fight or flight,
for the right,
to feed afresh

from the dying carcass of your mind.



Shared with poets united

Sunday, 18 May 2014

On waking today at Crieff Hydro I called out in my mind...

...men of my age
careering forward
dig your heels into the mountain
disconnect from avalanche
(for just a minute)
lie back
(the sky awaits your eyes)
and dream
(don't scream).

Saturday, 17 May 2014

God sends talk.

alone in our thoughts
and out of our minds
we are found to be beside ourselves.




Thursday, 15 May 2014

take a break

sip a cup of cappuccino
and
control your pulse:
settle for a second,
flat the landscape of your scan.
You can chip the dust from the unjust,
retake the territory of your time,
and fight against your mind,
breathe in,
breathe out,
what hope we have
against our doubts
alive, alive-oh,
sip slow
sip slow,
sip now.




  

Tuesday, 13 May 2014

consumer rumour

more is less
i guess
and i believe this
(more or less).

Monday, 12 May 2014