stonepoem : 365

Skyward,
mouthing Swinetown wind -
raking moon above grey veins,
rattling battle pennant bones
above a once proud clan.
Like airborne spires -
these aspirations
held aloft but not
in vain,
like spines of hope
knowing that they can.
This glowing beast
it will tell, it will show.
Display the mysteries
all should know.
Brothers and sisters!
Imagine a luminous horse
tethered high above the land
I call on you,
support this
plan.

Apparently
you instinctively know
the right decision
ten minutes before
you actually make it.
What you were doing
ten minutes ago,
what was on your mind -
all becomes inevitable
like a twisting leaf
waiting to land.
You were
wondering weren’t you
and now,
you read poetry.
The answer,
is still
no.

Like
faces
in a tear
raggededy
rough
as they are
the racing car
lamps of your eyes
tracing, scratching lines
towards the inward
imaginings of selfish ‘I’
whirling in surprise
chasing those that hide
already cold as shudders
break, like new waves in ice
across the movers and the lies
doggedly tough
as they are
like trapped sky cries
wrapped in furrows and twine
there, sighting cloudline
blistered gaze
falling now
with bow and rise
she’s a strange insect
flailing in a night jar
catching scent of moon
and twilight brings her soon
tell your pacing heart
these pulses, these flashes
these little arcs of light
they, are just
the start.

Have you seen
the proof displaced
lost belief just wandering
streets, touched past touching
quantums, atoms, molecules
streams as we are lead
in vapours wake
he goes
singing; grapevine broke my heart
let this troubleman be calm
no god, no good nor bad - just him
in mild european air
Real Magic is given to so few
watch closely and know
divine souls find their divinity
in everyone.

This white flame burns
all bad things,
turns mourning into dust
moves morning into dusk
lingers long like lovers
after lust.
Between head and heart
ancient in my breast
there is a fire -
white glow burning
sending powder-ash
sad things tinder-piled
bad things turning
cinder riled.
White flame burns
and everything must go
even things I am scared to know
even thoughts I dare not show -
now I’ll raise a weary hurting throw,
stack all ills of life and set alight
upon this white flame pyre.

And down came rusty stars
raising arms for all to shine
and low we dressed our frownfolk scars
chasing psalms and twisting twine (again)
with dreams but not quite ours
we carry ladders into night
pine the scent of cosmic wine
and then, we smoothly rise
like ancient sparks
like hilltop fire
and now, like cinder’s climb
inclined from pine to sky
we fly above
this awkward,
paradigm.

It’s blank
this space
we occupy
scratching the void
we stare
in articling watch
we see
cold folding air
we share
time spilled sun
we thank grace
more than that
we are here
and we are there
and we fail
and we can feel
we almost care
this is blankness
after oneness
after selflessness
after all.

Disregard all
you have been told
UFOs definately do not exist.
Not the T.V versions anyway,
you know - the extraterrestrial, cosmic yada variety
the advanced beings studying us. All lies.
Time travel transportation is what it’s really all about.
Ships carrying visitors to us from the future
maybe sinister, maybe sympathetic -
who knows, who cares apart from them …
but who, are ‘they’?
THEY are here screwing with the now,
tinkering with the cogs,
bending the levers
backward.
We have been led to believe in conspiracies
but the real conspiracy is what we’ve been led to believe.
What are they doing round here - poking about anyway?
Did one of us do something we shouldn’t have done?
Did one of us step on the bug of what happens next?
Maybe you (yes you) - thinking about changing the future
right now, maybe you changed it as a consequence
just by thinking the world needed fixing,
You created a new one and the old one died.
So our time is an open door.
Tell them! There is no mystery;
Travel from the future
but don’t change the past
and you’ll be welcome
now.