We're all on a road to somewhere.
Like a Rising Stone
~ a voyage of homage
A time for Life,
to seek, to be found.
To feel, and to be touched.
To hear truth.
How sweet the sound.
To taste goodness.
Goodness to be tasted.
To love, and to be loved.
Without the Divine,
the time of your life
. . . truly wasted
New documentary & photographic
evidence has been unearthed that
an eleventh century Scottish Lord,
Bruce de Redpath, was crowned
King of Anglo Saxon England
on the 19th of October 1066.
Apparently, when the remaining
English Lords, huddled in London,
learned of King Harold’s demise
at the Battle of Hastings, they
turned to a Scotsman to fend
off Duke William of Normandy,
A.K.A. ‘William the Bastard’ to
his friends, & ‘Stormin’ Norman’
to his enemies.
The Happiness Report
from the pagan haven
of a guarded and gated
sunny seaside resort
Machine tooled
from a block of concrete
Then deposited
upon a mangrove swamp
along a once pristine coast
Now a checkpoint
and a guard tower
cast shadows
across the lungs of nature
dying of tourist cancer
Looking for hidden treasure
in the doing of serious leisure
at the most exotic Coco Mojo bar
As that coral sea
just keeps glistening
in the tropical sun
I’m ordering yet another
mango mojito
whilst listening to Mojo JuJu
singing that native tongue
Junk in school
Junk on the street
Junk is lurking
every place
that people meet
There’s nowhere safe
Can you stand the heat?
Best be cool
and fast on your feet
Junk that cheats
and is hard to beat
On the banks of the Thames,
beyond the doors of the Tate,
seen through the haze
of a London heatwave,
the Post-Modernist of Fate
painting it all black.
Trying hard to forget
the brushstrokes of regret.
I dreamt upon
the flight of night
riding the backseat
of a V8 Ford Pilot
whilst a Corporate Shaman
was stelthily installing
into my right arm
a mechanism
powered by lithium
that would recharge
my iPhone
and disseminate information
I asked
was this for my benefit
. . . or theirs?
but a vowel of silence
prevented him from answering
