
an art installation
in the middle of nowhere
floating
in a sea of nothing
CREATION


an art installation
in the middle of nowhere
floating
in a sea of nothing
CREATION


Social engineering
dressed up
in the drag
of state religion
A trick of the tail
that sting of tradition
taboos and hoodoos
male and female
two sides of the one
multifaceted coin
Far too many
a lost penny
spent in a storm
Spurned and torn
for just being born

Evil conspires
That’s what evil
does the best
mixing a little piece
of veritas
with a whole lotta lies
It was a conspiracy
that put Jesus Christ
to death
up on the cross
A religious plot
that was then
blown apart
and thrown back
in the Devil’s face
Patience is a virtue
as Evil will continue
to scheme and conspire
often with a dangerous mix
of religion and power
but inevitably
all conspiracies backfire
Eventually the devious
will pay a heavy price
for misleading the gullible
Like an election
in a two horse race
providing the illusion
of you having a choice
only to herald in
a rising tide of trouble

Looking for hidden treasure
in the doing of serious leisure
at the exotic Coco Mojo bar
I’m ordering yet another
mango mojito
whilst listening to Mojo JuJu
singing her native tongue
as that Coral Sea
keeps on brightly glistening
in the tropical morning sun

Poetic words
Words most appealing
Words that play with you
only to leave you
hanging from the ceiling
Words of the absurd
… devoured by birds
Words deceiving
Words that may never
wish to be heard
Words most revealing
Words that leave me
… lost for words
Words with true feeling

The bells of liberty
by your stockings rung
The deepest restraints
in my hands … undone
A ladder of splendour
slowly climbing
Your sacrament melting
upon my thirsting tongue
quenched in the ocean
of love’s perfection
Down on bended knees
lost in the tender squeeze
of your wholly communion
To ride the high tide
of hard won liberation
Yet … I’m a captive slave
to your will being done
God … the ultimate Artist
The supreme Scientist
The intimate presence within
and throughout this existence
Regenesis … poetry in motion
Is she masculine
or is he feminine?
Is the answer
beyond our understanding?
Are we just avatars
in a game of actual reality
Is this life
an artistic documentary
viewed through
all the agony
and the ecstasy
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand
upon the canvas of eternity?

Or are we just
rats in a laboratory?
A collection of quarks
traversing the dark?
Mere particles within
the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
An infinitesimal spark
in a dimension mechanical?
Speaking of relativity
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum
Is that the universal story?

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
his brush strokes of regret
The Big Get Even

Perhaps it was too much
for the Sindicate to accept
such a substantial loss
Understandably upset
they put out
a 24 hour contract
on poor Leon
their number one suspect
Goons with prison haircuts
packing serious heat
under ponchos and anoraks
were scouring the streets

Toads a’ croaking
The sugarcane high
Fools rushing in
Where angels fear to fly
Doors broken
Blown open
Eucalyptus trees
Thrown asunder
In the white hot thunder
Of a cyclonic breeze