Monthly Archives: March 2017

No rhymes or reason just letters that look like objects when I need direction

A step ladder to the stars

of a united state of mind

the serpents running away

the sword hooked in a stone

the open mouths shut

and a hat on my head

copyright symbols your guess is as good as mine

Three chairs , a shoe,  a lighthouse, a umbrella without its parasol

a perfect circle, a whistle, pac man computer games, a shoe scrapper,

a train tunnel , a Christmas bauble, and lots of other letters on a keyboard

that might look like of objects if you stare at them for long enough

 

 

Black box recorders

I draw a line in this sand
The heavens open
Washing away her plans
The castles she would  build out of sand

The stones she throws in her glass house
The girl who cried wolf
Who was chased from these green and pleasant
lands

The wind howls to night
The gods scream and fight
And might turn up knocking on that door
But there will be no answer anymore.

I washed away all my sins
Throw away her none
Precious things
A ring so bright and red
Forged in the earth

Her Mirrors cracked again
My ripped to tattered shreds
A new emperor can be found
To walk these lands as I leave
For hills the forests call me now

I’m forging forgiveness

The wind howls to night
The gods scream and shout
And might turn up knocking on that door
But there will be no answer anymore.

The last leaves

 

All you people
Seem so strange to me
Hiding your hearts
Beneath your fickle opaque
Skin

Your all busy talking
About how your change the world
I’m sick of talking whilst our thoughts
And actions go unobserved

Let’s float away on this autumn breeze
And what will be will be
How lonely to be that last tree
Standing alone but free

All you people rushing around
I’ve no time to talk now
My heads stuck in these clouds
You told me to stop dreaming
But what else can I do
The day we stop dreaming
The sky falls in on me and you

Let’s float away on this autumn breeze
And what will be will be
How lonely to be that last tree
Standing alone but free

Whisper quietly now don’t you make a sound,
I see you standing there lost amongst the crowd
Whisper quietly now don’t you make a sound
I see you standing there lost amongst the trees

Let’s float away on this autumn breeze
And what will be will be
How lonely to be that last tree
Standing alone but free

The grouse

a minute on the hips a life time on the lips

what does he want to be remembered for

The empty bottle the wild winds that blow

through the heather the hues of highlands

as the sunrises across the still water

the plane with its tail up

the silence of a winter of loneliness

waiting for the thaw

the grouse braving the seasons

of lonely highland wilderness

Waiting for the thaw

 

 

Rice paper cookie conker drumming that boy can play the Jazz How can a jazz timing be played wrong

Rice paper cookie treats

drumming those spoons

that man can play the Jazz

and keep a beat

How can a jazz timing be played wrong

even if you speed it up or slow it down

like a cassette playing and rewinding at

super fast dub speed

I’m now on the step all I do is wrong

it’s the pits the machine chewed it

and now it’s like a plate of spaghetti

These home made recorded songs

on little microphones

conkers on strings

well it’s like flipping a coin

for the your right I’m wrong

solitary solutions

either that or Rock Paper Scissor song

The wind up super size city’s mismatched keys to the wrong toys

You say I can’t go up because I’ve never been down

that I can’t be a samurai in my own song

I can’t have the everything unless I fly to Denver

And dance in the snow whilst I’m actually by the Great Barrier Reef

apparently the apparatus is faulty for this little dream

but I’m easy it’s A don’t give a f*ck kind of day

the kind where children’s story’s are all the rage

there’s a crocodile climbing trees and laying towels down in the clouds

theres ups and downs that I roll along with

the train I have a ticket for I can now ride

and a free upgrade too , oh it’s just a dream

theres a queue jumper but let him jump ahead

he won’t get to the destination that he planned out

on his maps at the start any quicker than you or I

the distraction of its mr Kipling jam tarts

will scupper his deals on his flights over

to secure this throne that was never there

in a different country a throne is a toilet

imaginary conundrums illusions and anagrams

these words the ability to predict and project

The  bottom line on charts in newspapers

I stood at that pier in that photo

wheres mr ruby seagull gone

probably talking to mr chips

so what’s your deepest fear ?

If you have one you failed the minute you

took that deep breathe and said

“sod that that’s a climb to the top of that there hill”

do you frame yourselfs by trying to frame me ?

Thats my pet rabbit it’s called roger

he dissappeared went to the Roman baths

and now he never writes

that was my fear that I’d forget how to write

i got over it by writing more and more

however strange the subject was