The local bespoke crematorium,
and pottery kiln, under restoration.
Where I hope, one day, to be smoked
and then placed in an urn of clay.
Michael Le Multiple may think
that’s an idea magnificent.
Upon the foothills of time
this mere mortal coil
one day will cease to unwind.
So, I say . . . Burn baby, burn🔥😎
Jesus Christ …
and the great rip-off.
It was Judas,
that zealot of rebellion,
the policemen, the soldiers,
the politicians,
and them preachers of religion,
who put Jesus Christ in his grave.
I followed the money trail
That sap laden root of evil
Through the land of Mordor
To the heights of Mount Doom
Only to discover
Under a shadow of gloom
The dark arts of Sauron
Veiled behind the illusion
Of a philanthropic institution
Euphemistically referred to as
A reproductive health foundation
“If you tremble with indignation
at every injustice then you are a
comrade of mine.”
~ Ernesto Che Guevara
At long last
I’ve seen the past
and much like the future
it was murder
Since the beginning
of forever
brother Cain came
with low blows
to impose
a new world order
I thank Christ
some had time to grasp
the hand at task
For chaos never stops
to count the cost
But I blame myself
for a world of mayhem
and uncivilised disorder
ever since the canonization
of my dearest friend
Ernesto Che Guevara
“It is something to be deep
in the snow in Winter,
to be deep in the yellow leaves
in Autumn, to be deep
in the ripe wheat in Summer,
to be deep in the grass in Spring.”
~ Vincent van Gogh
In the shallows just below
the translucent skin of Spring
an opal blue explosion awaiting
the grand thaw of awe to begin
The riverbank in springtime
Dancing along
the sparkling spectrum
a chestnut tree
in full blossom
Under a sky rent by light
on a starry starry night
Is seeing too much
beyond your place in time
ever and always
the visionary’s crime?
With more skat
than a stray cat
can poke his eyeballs at
the punk
in the Midnight Choir
starts to twist and shout
Yet …
the All in All
all too beautiful
for even a bird on a wire
to sing about
Like that
concert hall in Vienna
where your lips
were so warm and wet
Getting a feel
of the real deal
… that love thing
Upon a mission
a royal commission
seeking foremost
the rock solid Kingdom
It all starts from within
Seizing the living moment
Best be in it
to win
And Leonard Cohen
he’s moved on
to the Tower of Song
The good, the bad,
the beautiful, and the ugly,
in the broken mirror of time
all staring back at me.
When Planet Earth
was first given birth,
a world of wonder and beauty,
it was all good.
Could be. Should be.
Four seconds to midnight,
at the stroke of eternity,
the Spirit challenges me
. . . “CHANGE!”
Still breathing
Living still
From oceans deep
an immortal spill
The waters testing
in the fullness of time
What’s in your heart?
Who’s on your mind?
Having received
the Love Memorandum
from Planet Freedom
Regarding that love
that doesn’t change
in the wildest of weather
and through all that’s strange
Of love forged
in the fires of forever
Love that gives meaning
and substance
to this existence
A love that never fails
like the latter rains
of a summer harvest
On the banks of the Thames
beyond the doors of the Tate
glimpsed through the haze
of a London heatwave
the Post-Modernist of Fate
Painting it all black
whilst trying hard to forget
bitter brushstrokes of regret
Oh, a germ is threatening
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away
