These sad rooms are sitting with me The seeds are scraps of paper For me the writing is nearly over Long tall shapeless the words be.
The skeleton rooms are growing dim I sit through the calm Whilst raging within My sweaty palms Are guiding me in I’m wanting the eyes forever
For long is the night dim is the day Like forgetting the only rhyme I had For you are the smile I’m not so gay You have a wooden life – not sad.
These rooms are sitting in calmness now My empty eyes are not glowing But please give me one last chance. As I sit within my knowing.
I can’t sit I have to move For the world is crazy without I need the anchor I need the wind But don’t ever let me out I see your skirts I am your blouse I want to get into your mind Don’t let me drift don’t let me dream Because I don’t want to be a friend.
The sun it drifts and the sky is mixed My mind expands with a whim You are in the midday of life And I can’t seem to ever win
Don’t smile, don’t cry, don’t even breathe For I am driving into the wind The hills are steep and I won’t keep Because the light is keeping me still Don’t cry, don’t speak For God’s sake don’t keep My ears are bursting again.
The sky is mean but the sun is clear I shan’t drift into you with a cloud I am the river the rain the speed So why don’t we write a rhythm I am so slow, slither I am on the go So please give a – come now! Go now! Please listen to me Come in come thither Please listen in Tune in to me is my hearing that keen The moon is dancing with us now.
Your voice your eyes Are in my device I want to keep them forever Please let me skate Please be my mate We shall sing the song together We shall sing the song together
In July we say the rains are here to stay But we know that by saying this We won’t really scare the sun away In adjusting the month to suit the weather We can’t really expect any other To take the place of the sun.
In July the warmth of knowing grows As the moon expands its outer glow Reaching as it does the hearts of gems Realising that months are sucked in to one day We don’t register time nor pain nor another way Where values are exchanged for priceless gifts.
In July all the disappointments evaporate Like lakes on the Serengeti plains Placing horseshoe necklaces around the necks of saints In pleasing the inner mirror, we have to select Our worst and best experiences Like choosing which brand of fun to purchase.
In July, cloudless skies obscure the stars and planets But in reality we know they are there unseen Like we know China exists even though we never visited In laughing with the cosmic joke We can applaud ourselves for our stupidity For choosing to be stupid, prevents us growing.
In July the sunbeams dance bravely inside my skull Animals and birds will sing their peculiar songs For all is rejoicing renewing and recycling We practice we are journeying with our ignorance Packed neatly inside our suitcase heads Looking for light for the meaning of this poem.
In July travelling is the ultimate goal For in the movement towards knowing We shall visit a million stars and none. In the daytime we will measure the darkness At night we’ll conquer the mystery of blackness And invitation of the negative unsmiling one.
In July we embrace the tall trees and love them For their energy is the sap of life itself But our ignorance we swipe them away In the knowing hours are we asleep Is the travelling more intense and very deep?
In July the balance reveals its rotten teeth Displaying that much work is needed anywhere But we are fledglings who look to their mother In using her guiding wing given a friendly peck We want to fly but we are impatient In trust and truth we will fly forever.
And then the sun rose on the other side of the moon
But I wasn’t at all interested in its proximity
Looking out across the glistening seven seas
I was looking to expose my soul around noon
All the trees bowed in my direction and some collapsed
Could I expect more than this worship by nature,
Words were wrapped in cellophane, it was crinkled
It was inside out as I was walking through clouds
I wanted to unravel each piece of plastic, but could not
The sun danced in the river, I saw the fish scurrying about
The tension was leaving me I was laughing but I wanted out.
But the words could not escape the see through wrapping
What was the worth of talking – the speaking the rapping.
I was sliding inside the breaking waves upon the shore
My smile was stuck between the rocks and raging sea
I could not forecast in any way what was happening to me
Did the moon want my heart presented upon a plate
To show it to the blazing sun as it rose over the horizon
Did the blood of my aching limbs want to stop searching
I could not tell the time, nor did I hear the clocks chime
Clockwork heaven beckoned me to look up into the blue sky
Presenting the fluffy scudding clouds into my eye
I was laughing because the cause of the mirth was nowhere
I searched for it hour after hour but the aching was beyond pain
I could not carry on looking not now not ever again,
I sat down and laughed, why did it have to be this way, please explain.
Did I capture your freedom put it inside this rusty cage
What does it serve if not the free thinking natural age
I wipe away the blood from my legs and arms, naturally
Without a thought for what needed to be done I was there
Amongst the slippery rocks clambering for life to the beach.
The sea had the reins of misfortune all around me, out of reach
For the shoreline I saw what was naturally needed for my life
Could I help my attitude towards the routine ever circling sun
I wasn’t to blame – the time was out of my mind, it would not settle
No matter what I tried to do to rectify the situation, the metal
Of the rusting cage was crumbling buckling under the weight
What could I do here in this place other than be bored and wait
I have read your book, tossed it aside, laughed, it was not for me.
3 Oct 2023.
(For all those people who know there is something missing.)
What in our lives is missing, what are we missing? This feeling uses great effort in the many at listing The missing facets that allow us to feel unreal, Like some punishment for no crimes – I did not steal I did not kill – nor did I trample upon anyone’s dignity. But something has been taken away even though not guilty.
What did we do to feel this way or was it someone else? This heavy burden of taking away common sense And leaving us in a sea of irrationality – a horrible dance In the fires of someone else’s condemnation and insults. What did we do to deserve to be on the receiving end, Was it a personal slight, was it trickery by a close friend?
Whatever it was we continue to waste time on speculation There’s a way out of here when we entertain a realisation, A discovery that sits well in the heart says what is missing It’s a warmth in our lives that feels like a cocoon encompassing Our whole body and mind reminding us we deserve to be loved But the tears won’t stop because we know we live in a cloud,
Where sunlight has been banished from our sight and hearing All we have is the reminders of the absent wanted healing, When we cried as a child the missing was the comforting When we lost a loved one missing was the understanding When we were bullied by life missing were words of comfort When bedded with a partner the missing was the arms about.
The missing element that can pull us out of dark despond That can lift the heaviest of hearts now aching far beyond This place filled with missing, can be replaced on this Earth With loving, being loved, feeling that we are of real worth. We yearn to be a real person for another and to ourselves too, The missing is the absence of self-love, needed by me and you.
It never rains in my garden, the ground is parched, flowers drooped I spy the rain clouds but they pass me by again, I am stooped Over this gardening fork wondering why the water does not come Is there a shortage of liquid where I go, why do I become dumb With uncertainty about the rains that refuse to soak my skin. There is a conspiracy amongst the clouds in my regard I think.
Rain rain upon my solid unyielding ground where I stand Let me feel the pitter patter of rain drops on my dry hands, I want to look to the heavens and feel the water on my face I am desperate to experience the watery waves in this space. Let the storms of indifference go their own way, away away, Why should I really care about where they end up one day.
It never rains in my house even when all the windows are open I send personal messages to the darkening skies hoping then They will release the prize I am so keen to have all around me Their reply disappoints for they say there is a delay, I must see That it’s important for the rains to soak the more deserving, I am not counted in that number, this I have been observing.
Rain rain I beseech you train your dripping and cascading Unique cargo upon my eyes, my ears, my mind, ranging Down upon the months where rain was never going to be, I wanted to be soaked in the kindness of the waterfall, see It was my desire, it was my inspiration it is my reality, I can’t change the weather, I am now without water really.
It never rains upon the page I use to write my poetry, I am relieved that it spares me the task of drying leaves Of paper, and saves the ink from smudging, being unclear And creating patterns that laugh loudly into my inner ear, Rain rain why can’t you comfort my wild and edgy mind Why can’t I have dampness that rain always leaves behind?
Does it matter if I stop breathing and smiling inanely With thoughts that can cut veins ever so insanely? I don’t know how deep is the grand Canyon I have never been there, nor have I carried on Any desire to meet Stanley Livingstone alone In an African jungle worrying about his pension What are we doing wading through streams Of information that have no meaning but seems To occupy even the smallest minds inside heads, I’m steeped in memory but then that is my age Where memory takes the place of reality, on my page Anything goes and it usually does, and it returns But that is hardly my fault I was only looking to relearn A lesson no one had taught me so the laughing begins My head on the arms whilst sleeping in class wins My praise because the lessons are full of horse manure And teachers need to be culled for the biggest cure that humans have ever known, then we start again swimming every ocean climbing every mountain. There are dots all over my page where a universe sits And I can see the people inside, they want a real fix I smoked weed, spoke to the caterpillar on a mushroom he was half way to coming back again, so very soon but had missed every bus put out by Transport of London. I left my heart in an English Gardener said Christian Barnard I gave him the wrong blue pills and he swore revenge. Did I drive a Triumph Toledo in the raging cold snow I think about it but honestly I don’t really know, In café bars, sleazy saloons I feel the cheap perfume With smudged lipstick red faces and failing mascara The ladies of the night settled for the usual routine Even on days when they wanted to be never seen Walking that street devoid of humanity and so mean wrenched out their hearts, now it’s like a money machine. Does it matter that Mickey Mouse may have been a girl, Some say so, but then they have the tolerance of Goering, His sandwiches were wet because his wife liked tomatoes, His face looked like he’d eaten a ton of lemons though. Then I met this guy standing at a bus stop and he told me Buses I want are going in the opposite direction you see, He knew he was standing at the wrong bus stop and boasted about it, I thought he’d been watching the BBC that fucks up the brain rearranges logic and vomits garbage into my lap so that I stank of corrupted news, I could not listen to the smiling faces nor their biased views, I knew they suffered from withered cocks without juices But you try interviewing one of them, you need a banana Each time you try, for they ape reality without knowing. Allen Ginsberg was going to move in next door so I was told I said but he died years ago – I was trashed for being bold Never a Howl was heard so I knew he hadn’t moved near, It doesn't matter, really?
I am in this café looking out towards the cars listening, To the rain as it pats the windowpane and glistening In the light of the streetlamps standing sentinel pose, The rhythm of the rain interposing thoughts I suppose. There is no control over the places the rain will fall But at least I have something to listen to after all.
I am in this living room in silence but listening always, There is only my heartbeat I notice pounding away As the quiet cuts decidedly across my concentration There are brief clatters as my keyboard is a distraction But I am not worried my thoughts are in need of renewal, As I discover past mind pictures in places I can recall.
I am in this wooded area and while listening the air is cool, The birds are all of a chatter and sing their songs in tall Trees that sway to the winds that disturb their very leaves, I love the rustling of the leaves and the fresh air I breathe, In this place increasingly I sense I’m becoming more real Listening can be a tonic but within me the sounds will still.
I am in this holiday place where gulls cry out to no one, But they sail on passed me in a cocky way; are you done They scream as I lay listening in the warm afternoon sun, The sea in the distance beckons me to join in the throng I expect nothing more than to hear my best ever song That echoes around inside my head all the day long.
I am on this doorstep listening to the people on the inside Trapped I am wondering whether the door bell on the outside Will scream obscenities to all within beyond this door, What matter is it to me if they hear the truth and much more What do I care, they do deserve an earful of fuck and bloody I rang the bell and moved away not speaking until I’m ready.
I am in this bed listening to the clock mocking my sleepy eyes I can’t sleep, as usual, the whirring of my brain I now realise Doesn’t want me to put head to pillow and get down to sleeping No it wants me at its mercy it repeats over a phrase I’m keeping, Hidden away inside my heart where I wait for its completion. It’s been a long long time, I am aware of its possible depletion.
I am on a carousel most people would call life and listening To what they say about it only makes me feel like disappearing, So I can gather evidence of an energy to discover the feeling Down inside of me that I have lost something of true meaning I see pictures of lakes, ducks dragon flies, geese and cranes, In the sunlight I spy a shadow that needs to be in light again.
I was walking on a cracked pavement without knowing, I was where I was but I did not care I did not calculate the date or the year But I could not declare Just why I was there I could not guess so I laid it open to suggestion But there it is
Right in front of everything bar invention In my new waterproof coat of anxiety I was staring passed a dream into the empty Regions where dreams finally went to sleep But there it is
An impossible laying down of the phrases That really meant nothing at all in all phases The colour of each dream I took notice piled them up against the firmly closed door did I hear you screaming for more what is this where people stop talking laughter strangled at birth a slaughter took place instead of mirth But I could not switch it off I was crestfallen and wretched in lines I looked to the skies I was wanting a kind Hand to lift me up to sing a song But there it is
I was knee deep in this river of life Where all the leaves in my tree departed Could I not control this subtle strife Or was I open to a savage strap across my back I was unaware of the weight in this or the lack Until I turned my face to the sun What is it that turns tragedy into fun The smiles are not false the eyes are gleaming When I called out your name I fell to my knees – I was next to shame But there it is
An anchor for a safety device Over the top against all the advice If it works why worry about safety I don’t My resolve is stiffened against the rising moon It would be placed at my feet and soon Because each moonbeam would be weighed by clouds Time to unravel each strand in the silence not out loud. But there it is.
DISSENTERS VOICE 