She’s Gone Again

Twenty-six years are gone

Since we laughed out loud

At nonsense

We cried

You died

This is your song

 

One last breath, a whole life

A child born and scars torn

Love knot sealed and tied

Goddess cried, Goddess died

 

Twenty-six years are gone

Since I kissed your sweet cheek

Said farewell

We cried

You died

This is your song

 

One last breath, the sky is grey

The hungry earth, the empty hole

The velvet box is death’s own bed

Eve’s own kin is dead

 

Twenty-six years are gone

Since your soul passed away

To heaven

We cried

You died

This is your song

 

One last breath, a spirit shed

The heavens frown, an angel down

Spirit moaned, lick of flame

Grips the sky, she’s gone again

 

Twenty-six years are gone

Since we commended your body

To the ground

We cried

You died

This is your song

 

Colours of life

By these sandstone walls

My life unfolds

In colours of love

The white May blossom

The lilac hops

The pink cherry flowers

Under a blue sky above

 

By the fields of rape

My life unfolds

In colours of pain

The black crow flies

The grey clouds

The poppies red

Upon opened sacks of grain

 

By the wind whispered Wold

My life unfolds

In colours of life

The azure horizon

The creamy cotton

The emerald field

Its beauty cuts like a knife

 

The Moving Finger Writes

On the windswept dales of limestone Karst

See Emily play

A romantic farce

Heathcliff searches

For a Wuthering lust

The window glass shatters

Life returns to dust

But true love never dies

As the darkness fades to light

My soul is yours to keep

Bill Burroughs is writing tonight

 

My love she sleeps in Cham

In a bed of Norwegian wood

My heart is buried somewhere

Under Dylan’s old Milkwood

 

On the melting tarmac of Kerouac’s road

The sun now rises

On Sal’s paradise load

Dean Moriarty sleeps

His heart trips a beat

Life it still creeps

But true love never dies

As the darkness fades to light

My soul is yours to keep

Bill Burroughs is writing tonight

 

My love she sleeps in Cham

In a bed of Norwegian wood

My heart is buried somewhere

Under Dylan’s old Milkwood

 

On the frozen streets of forgotten Oslo

Knut Hamsun he tries to write

But words are just a show

As the hunger eats within

From Kafka, Joyce and Camus

His life is full of sin

But true love never dies

As the darkness fades to light

My soul is yours to keep

Bill Burroughs is writing tonight

 

My love she sleeps in Cham

In a bed of Norwegian wood

My heart is buried somewhere

Under Dylan’s old Milkwood

 

On Woody’s slow railroad train

The hobos beg for dimes

His broken voice remains

In another singer’s song

His tune plays ever onward

Bound for glory all along

But true love never dies

As the darkness fades to light

My soul is yours to keep

Bill Burroughs is writing tonight

 

The Immigrant

Wild goats roam on the Kashmir hills

The baby is still crying

Piss filled nappy

And 5,000 miles

The past it now is dying

A stranger in a strange land

 

Bold London promises a new tomorrow

The Pocono Mountains stoop Jubal writes

The road ahead

New light reveals the family group

A stranger in a strange land

 

Bradford beckons hope and work

Ben Caxton offers social order

A fair witness

For tomorrow

Grey Pennines trace the next border

A stranger in a strange land

 

Bright Bethesda heals the sick

Dr Filth wears a matted glove Foster’s church

A new found faith

Hope betrays the woman’s love

A stranger in a strange land

 

Cast past on the goat filled slopes

The world without exception

Nelson’s column

Rises so high

And offers a kind reception

A stranger in a strange land

 

A Grief Observed

Oh to leave behind this

Feeling

The lost souls are still

Bleeding

I watched you

On the beach

The white horses

Crashed Vein hopes

Dashed

But in my dreams

You were calling

But still

Out of reach My Shannon

 

Oh to leave behind this

Feeling

The lost souls are still

Bleeding

The years

The fears

The broken raven

Dies

At my window

While time

Ticks

The years passing

But not love

Without you

My Shannon

The Commuter

Down on Robertson Road

Where the white painted windows

Bleach in the autumn sun

The red-lipped lady steps forth

Umbrella in hand

Making her stand

On a journey she had now begun

 

Down on platform six

Where the old grey porter stands

Unsure of the line ahead

The fresh faced woman waits

Chewed gum at her feet

Waiting a seat

On a journey she always dreads

 

Down on bended knee

Where the ticket inspector calls

And the strap hangers hang

The nervous mother stares

An old man at her side

Taking a stride

On a journey with an urban chain gang

 

Down on Blackfriars Bridge

Where the swarm of people sway

And pigeons pick up the crumbs

The businesswoman now walks

Past the familiar gate

Testing her own fate

On a journey which her life succumbs