theatres casinos clubs and bars and vast open fields the magical the miracle the molecule the minuscule music for the warm hearted friends all left behind springtime a blustery wind unwinds your door blows you to a parlour where you sulk in your splendour and pallor where you soak in the sheets between torn midnight blackening in the skin of elfin kid soft hidden in a shell
kilbey kilbey
theatres casinos clubs and bars and vast open fields
the magical the miracle the molecule the minuscule
music for the warm hearted friends all left behind
springtime a blustery wind unwinds your door
blows you to a parlour where you sulk in your splendour
and pallor
where you soak in the sheets between torn midnight blackening
in the skin of elfin kid soft
hidden in a shell
oh the sea was so warm in the afternoon drifting in my deckchair i follow all kinds of thoughts the ideas swimming vanishing appearing whispering names names of the dead i need to remember sung in a song swooning in the spring sun a white light has begun awake in a dream midships a trireme upon the seas of africa in the viridian light behind my eyes a field is blooming day and night scrambled in the rambling ambling time and heather brae billowing hills i saunter through meadows of milky carnation and emerald clover like green carpet the mossy tinged basalt cracks like a giantess in stone the lovely dells air hung with spells well october is there in the gurgling brooks and all the feathered nests the jangling seabreeze blowing through old forks and spoons the washed up nets and sinkers stranded with bottle and cork the blanched star of bethlehem burning bright in your room of jars the bladders of wine and the clear flasks of italian water awaken to the sound of strange birds in the unkept garden where the twisted sculpture sags nagged down by century rust where the old ladies dressed in black mourn some martyrs death the music fills the resurgent thrust of love in wee small hours then the candle glimmering in sandalwood smoke soaks up the air and things you will forget when you are gone
the song righter wrong
oh the sea was so warm in the afternoon
drifting in my deckchair i follow all kinds of thoughts
the ideas swimming vanishing appearing whispering names
names of the dead i need to remember sung in a song
swooning in the spring sun a white light has begun
awake in a dream midships a trireme upon the seas of africa
in the viridian light behind my eyes a field is blooming day and night
scrambled in the rambling ambling time and heather brae billowing hills
i saunter through meadows of milky carnation and emerald clover like green carpet
the mossy tinged basalt cracks like a giantess in stone
the lovely dells air hung with spells
well october is there in the gurgling brooks and all the feathered nests
the jangling seabreeze blowing through old forks and spoons
the washed up nets and sinkers stranded with bottle and cork
the blanched star of bethlehem burning bright in your room of jars
the bladders of wine and the clear flasks of italian water
awaken to the sound of strange birds in the unkept garden
where the twisted sculpture sags nagged down by century rust
where the old ladies dressed in black mourn some martyrs death
the music fills the resurgent thrust of love in wee small hours
then the candle glimmering in sandalwood smoke soaks up the air
and things you will forget when you are gone
churning mind teeming with unseemly characters rummaging in the lives of your acquaintances for warmer temperatures in cafes and bars along the glittering sea where you are seen outside the queens arms holding forth passionately in a beer garden unamazed by burgeoning spring and the romanian girls dangling from your knee in a fog of despair you go open misere that is losing everything you feel you must lose even more hubris you fool maybe the rules are there for a reason in tropico nights the red lights of a carnival of soul singers in the pit with the flutes and lutes the cutest honey drones her viola in the sand with a sandwich you manage to charm poor Venezuela a stiff drink and a soft bed but a hard head always splitting hairs you buy em lunch following a hunch of some distant reward i am floored soon must come the bolt the disc the mace or the sword (hope youre insured)
wide anglo
churning mind teeming with unseemly characters
rummaging in the lives of your acquaintances for warmer temperatures
in cafes and bars along the glittering sea where you are seen
outside the queens arms holding forth passionately in a beer garden
unamazed by burgeoning spring and the romanian girls dangling from your knee
in a fog of despair you go open misere
that is losing everything you feel you must lose even more
hubris you fool maybe the rules are there for a reason
in tropico nights the red lights of a carnival of soul singers
in the pit with the flutes and lutes the cutest honey drones her viola
in the sand with a sandwich you manage to charm poor Venezuela
a stiff drink and a soft bed but a hard head always splitting hairs
you buy em lunch following a hunch of some distant reward
i am floored
soon must come
the bolt
the disc
the mace
or the sword
(hope youre insured)
wandering troupe the players diverse squeeze into yonder carriage transporting them off the midgets in their tiny sighs the giant against the mightiest oak the lovely ladies of the stages with their graces and cares the gentlemen of perpetual blues down in the purple seats in the countryside inn we begin to play ourselves as dinner begins the clowns who also sing like larks played by a choir of beautiful boys the darkened voices of the angels murmur then in wonder at some men the grecian 500 BC play as if fresh from yesterday before the common era a glory they say more corporeal than today the chorus tells of the most flimsy wondrous things like glints of gold in seawater on a fading summer afternoon the tragedians who stalk the wings dressed in yore costume the cloak the spur the mace the hound the black swayed boots lord anybody singing through the forlorn shell of evenings now gone and thats every evening that there ever was they croon as if from a distant pontoon and some dying party you once attended down the coast and across the lagoon dreamer you said come with me there is something that i want you to see and soon but as the gang fly away we leave it all behind for another day now everytime i hit the turps and times i find it dilutes my colours grey lost in a terrible forest during a great storm a lightning strike which fell down the spine aligned within the well of stars mars full of black water smiles a spooky reversal divested of our scripts and songs the floor belongs to no one hammer oh rain on our heads absolving us of everything in thund’rous applause the appalling squall descended an unending shriek in stark gothic limelight the […]
poet moet
wandering troupe the players diverse
squeeze into yonder carriage transporting them off
the midgets in their tiny sighs
the giant against the mightiest oak
the lovely ladies of the stages with their graces and cares
the gentlemen of perpetual blues down in the purple seats
in the countryside inn we begin to play ourselves as dinner begins
the clowns who also sing like larks played by a choir of beautiful boys
the darkened voices of the angels murmur then in wonder at some men
the grecian 500 BC play as if fresh from yesterday
before the common era a glory they say more corporeal than today
the chorus tells of the most flimsy wondrous things
like glints of gold in seawater on a fading summer afternoon
the tragedians who stalk the wings dressed in yore costume
the cloak the spur the mace the hound the black swayed boots
lord anybody singing through the forlorn shell of evenings now gone
and thats every evening that there ever was they croon as if from a distant pontoon
and some dying party you once attended down the coast and across the lagoon
dreamer you said come with me there is something that i want you to see and soon
but as the gang fly away we leave it all behind for another day
now everytime i hit the turps and times i find it dilutes my colours grey
lost in a terrible forest during a great storm
a lightning strike which fell down the spine
aligned within the well of stars mars full of black water smiles
a spooky reversal divested of our scripts and songs the floor belongs to no one
hammer oh rain on our heads absolving us of everything
in thund’rous applause the appalling squall descended an unending shriek
in stark gothic limelight the moaning trees creak into the rushing river
the swollen falling water creaming the banks and the flanks of weeping willows
the devil appears in the shape of white hot heat anxiety nightly between the pillows
surely this is the end of our run
the critics who jeered when learning of our disappearance will hear
the tempest in their headphones implanted in bone
the next day however we awoke to the cheerful chirping of strange birds
absurdly a lovely child has found us
and they come and lead us to their town their somewhere elses realm
so in marvellous old theatres with mirrors and velvet
the tragic story of icarus and his daddy daedalus
oh i do hate to fall down, down even in a dream
the voices all singing incessantly
like a fragment of the great work
a cathedral of sound drowned in echo rebound
your earthquake cold stare at the audience in confidence
we all sing in solemn candlelight throwing shadow the anthem
taking a bow retiring to my quarters
sipping a refreshing cordial setting aside my lyre
and regarding the bouquet from an admirer
among my papers a summons for the players before the monster child king
as the ruling hand among the lands of those who dont or cannot understand
we must obey him
the arduous task to perform the masque he has asked us to do
made up as poseidon astride an elephantine seal
i must deal with zeus deucedly hard in the delicate cadences of zeal
in my card boarded castle just off centre stage
nervously holding the words in my rightly slightly shaky hands
beyond the outside cage of the age
we act out the manifest unrest of a universe from a page
