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Tag: Poetry
Sunshine Mandala
Mr. Fire-ring Philanthropy
of the Wall Street Diddle
and effluent magnate
of all things plastic
that float upon the sea …
to whom do you compare?
31 million light years away
in the centrifugal centre
of the Whirlpool Galaxy
lies a hungry black hole
All stardust to recycle
somewhere way past
the Milky Way’s middle
No Exits ~ Exist On
NO EXITS ~ EXIST ON
In the car park
of a stark oblivion
best to leave
your engine running
Don’t plug the spark
Don’t phone it home
all on your own
in the brooding dark
If you’ve got the app
of a beating heart
with an overflowing cup
don’t text it to the exit
like some Brexit
lost in transit
with Boris in the forest
So therefore go forth
and Sexit up …
if you really must
On the Road … Again
Amongst the many
merry little elves
reaching for the light
and the servants of pain
dwelling in the dark
I spent a lifetime bent
circling the drain
of that astral plain
within my brain
A message sent
Called by name
somewhere between
insanity and vanity
“Be wholly sane!
And baby …
don’t forget to repent!”
Used Lover Blues
“Mercy and Grace me please!”
~Ulysses
Once I had a lover
Was it all that wrong?
She done me like a crime
against all reason and rhyme
Yet, she knew how to play
my favourite song
There was a time It seemed
she would haunt my dreams
and the days were all
just way too long
But tell me
what can you do
when you ainât that strong?
Lord, Iâm tired
of paying these dues
Them used lover blues
Her mythology
is all Greek to me
Was the pounding
on Chaosâs anvil
more than a mere mortal
could ever handle?
The Hawaiian Motel
I was staying at
the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian Motel
a Wild Turkey in hand
slowly defrosting
in a cyclonic swell
when the news broke
… the King of Rock
had just fatally fell
He could rhythm & blues
the whole jail house block
from a cell
at the Heartbreak Hotel
And then
in his blue suade shoes
gospel all the way
to the edge of reality
Heaven’s pearly gates
now blown straight to hell
Mosquitoes and neon buzzing
as the No Vacancy sign
flickers on
at the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian motel
The Doors of Deception
Six long weeks
roaming the dry crust
of a sun burnt wilderness.
Nothing but rocks and red dust.
The hot desert winds
that flay the skin
… now murmuring,
with words broken
of souls lost and forsaken.
Best I finally surrender
upon this alien terrain
the haunted trauma
of a time I’ve tried in vain
. . . to never remember.
