Saturday, 6 December 2014

Margaret Mcmillan

The Solemn Oak
handles with
pistol grips

Theres a dirty garage on the river Severn

very near Worcester
Where he keeps his Swans.

Never enmesh the soul
With material things,
and so too,
never imbue materials
with the seat of a soul.

But I don't want to be immortal-
Not here, anyway.
Would rather be away with the wine
in the cellar.

Friday, 17 October 2014

Meditiations on a burning bush

One feels one has 
less time when old,
that it is quite outrun

Whilst in essence
time is always the same. 
There is only ever thus 

a single time, and it's
the ineffable utters here.

Wednesday, 27 August 2014


The world spins on ridiculous pivots
mired in a myriad hazards 
like saxophone concertos
at Croydon Minster,
some slouching tonic for the soul.
Surety being,
the supposed applause of molten ancestors 

As I stand disintegrating, the
atoms flowing outward into morass
the great equivocal river
like memories, we replicate and thus, dilapidate
flowing down to a great sea of souls
palliatively soothful for 
what remains
enroute to the plummet-gate,
the coil must be rid of,
it is a brittle skin,
the journey of a skeleton.

Friday, 20 June 2014

Just as the genius has his mulch
the rose her manure
the pearls, 
the diamonds
also have their dross
to define them

Monday, 17 March 2014

Don't know what these women are
looking for
Don't know what they got
in their drawers
Everything is worthless now,
smoking cigars in 4x4's

Who's overwrought,
self-contained &
overbought ?
Sitting on the rooftop
of a dream
praying for the
astral body of a dead cat,
or souls whose only liberation
is interminable Saturnalia

Monday, 10 February 2014

Everyone goes to the pacific coast
to work for the dead or die
In the west lies death,
in the east lies life.
Running away from the sins
of the father,
or running toward.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

Truth be a martyr tonight

Truth be a martyr tonight,
and virgins be hostage
Make way for the fit
rage against the meek
stomping down peasants
risen by Luther to revolt

Put to fire and sword
with barbarian tumult
directed inward.
Cromwell at Drogheda
Sons of Attila,
rebelling against Christendom,
relishing in rancour.


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