jumped up ninny

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

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

 

eye field

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    

Photo on 14-10-15 at 9.32 PM
the song righter wrong

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

 

 

descent into sydney

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)        

Photo on 12-10-15 at 9.30 PM
wide anglo

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)

 

 

 

 

a garden of tragedians

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 […]

Photo on 7-10-15 at 10.19 PM
poet moet

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