It’s A Beautiful Mess
The sharp head on wobbly shoulders says “hello”
to the frightened little pussy cat on the red silk cushion.
I empty my heart into a plastic bag
and rummage for some foreign change.
Everything is the same.
Solid fuel blocks that grow on trees
keep winter cold madness away,
southern hit wonders of delay,
solitude for days.
When heaters drop
and air-conditioning stops,
and we’re away.
Non-stop heroes and semi-static hope
become misplaced dilemmas
for fertile couples in the Hebrides.
My only ocean bed
speaks softly,
but does not always receive gently.
So the spider climbs the wall
and a head-on collision says it all
when the dog won’t stop barking at nothing at all.
And they all listen as one shouts,
letting off steam;
not laughing at one another
but only sometimes taking the piss.
The mountains move silently in their infant years,
first steps seem crazy at first.
And all the loose stones crumble to make a wall
or a patio that says:
“I’m not afraid to fall.”
And I write my worst fears,
on forgotten love notes
to someone who doesn’t exist in my reality;
maybe in my next reality,
mixed with expressions of pure art and comical excess.
I move my lips joyously over my emotions;
real states of affairs
not monsters tattooed or hairbrush knots,
just slippery, shiny, one hand only
tiny beginnings of new shoes forever.
“Baby, cos you’re worth it.”
Value added sex
and a chocolate alternative to love
hasten a goodbye.
Riding the sugarloaf mountain home, asleep
Desperately wanting, needing the god within
To identify itself
Show it’s thunder
And make streams
Of I don’t know what
Maybe never, maybe always
And forever the optimistic
Ice-cream believer.
Listen to the message marching by
Profit to profit
I won’t let you go.
I let down my hair
And you tug it to the ground
And on into the centre of your world
Where I turn and twist
And make heaps of trouble
To test the stirring spoon.
And taste new blood
Dozens of motors all running like purring kittens
I´m so cute
I want to be there with me all the time
Waiting, co-operating
Discovering new rhythms of life
Speaking different languages
And never hesitating at crossroads
For fools’ gold.
The prospects of another inter-stella paintbrush tour
Of a romantic cosmic creature
Screeching to a holt
Leaving earth on a high note
I swim splashing around, making a raucous noise
Right the whole way to my favorite star
Merrily on
The din does get quieter
So the old man at the end of the track
Can find a secret to tell me
Searching for wisdom
I don’t like the taste of some of the flowers
And preferring to rest up
Trusting that the parties will never end
I sink into my inside out vision of past particles
And hearts I’ve scribbled here and there.
Venus watches and so does Mars
High up on a mountain, near the moon
Where my town looks like a puddle
And my life can be viewed from a far off place
Hidden between my eyes
So I can only see it when my eyes are shut.
Vacuous cauldron of safety first
Risk taker second
My destiny shines third
Window to the left of center
Apparently bolt upright, like a chicken
Or a piglet feeling fine
Even a bit hungry
For your light touch and reason.
24.10.02
Tags: poem