Lamentations

A pale orb silent shines
Over those at rest
Both the living 
And the dead
A million silver tears 
Are quietly shed
For lovers lost
And children taken
In the soft and bitter night
.

Yo Yo Adjustment

 I don’t know which way is up   and which way is right   some police officers   from the zoological geometry division   was asking me the square   of the hippopotenuse   but I kept shtum     I ain’t as dumb as I look    and I don’t look as dumb as I seem    I just stared at their velcro macramé feet    and acted all sweet and innocent    like a cubic hyena in heat  

I had shoes like em once   I said    but they wouldn’t hang straight    they beat me relentlessly    they beat me   thoroughly    when they eventually left    I knew I’d been beaten    cops don’t hand out beatings    like that no more    no pride    no professional pride in their work     I’m not complaining see     and I ain’t going all nostalgic    it’s just I hate to see declining standards    

I lost my sense of up and down    so I went to have my yo – yo adjusted    the man said we don’t do that no more      people use scatellite navigators      I can’t afford no scatellite     if everybody gets a scatellite    they’ll blot out the sun!      but we’ll know where it is     he explained    we’ll track it on scatellites

I got a new string for my yo – yo     but he said I’d have to wind it myself    they had declining standards to maintain     I no longer know which way is up      and which way is right        my yo – yo pulls to the left    or maybe it’s me     standing a little to the right

Burglar

 

The morning sun creeps

Through your window

Like a friendly burglar

.

Stolen

In the mirror
A familiar face
It was stolen
.

Mr Soft

I recently discovered that the hill outside my house had a sufficient incline to propel me to quite some speed, enough momentum in fact to crush small children. This is the only pleasure left to me in my old age, confined as I am to the wheelchair. There’s always some nice police officer who will help a distraught old man home, but not before I have collected my victims tears in a phial which I can drink later at my leisure, mmm - delicious.

.

.

Seven Wonders

The Seven Wonders
Walked in the park
No-one saw them
It was dark
.

Over my radio

Velvet doves
Coo in silence
Over my radio
.

The Wolf Moon

The Wolf Moon,
Casts silver daggers,
That pierce the night.
.
.

The Folly Of Wisdom

 

The glamour of corruption,

The conceit of men,

The folly of wisdom.

.

.

The Dark

Afraid of the winter dark

The ghost in the window

Was your own reflection

.

The Dragonfly Hunter

How far to-day in chase, I wonder,

Has gone my hunter of the dragon-fly?

A reinterpretation of a Haiku by Chiyojo (1703-1775)

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Storm in a Tea Cup

I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
.
I SLAY THE BUDDHA
I SLAY THE BUDDHA
I SLAY THE BUDDHA
.
JUST A LITTLE DROP
IN A CUP OF TEA
CREATES A BUDDHA
IS IT YOU - OR ME
.
I REMEMBER YOUR HAND
SHAKING
THE HAND OF FRIENDSHIP
TREMBLED
.
JUST A LITTLE DROP
IN A CUP OF TEA
REVEALS THE BUDDHA
NONE CAN SEE
.
I REMEMBER YOUR SMILE
FRAGILE
YOUR JUDAS LIPS WERE
KISSED
.
JUST A LITTLE DROP
IN A CUP OF TEA
SLAYS THE BUDDHA
IN YOU AND ME
.
I REMEMBER YOUR LIES
SUBTLE
THE SLIGHT OF HAND
CONCEALED
.
JUST A LITTLE DROP
IN A CUP OF TEA
BETRAYS THE BUDDHA
IN YOU AND ME
.
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
I AM THE BUDDHA
.
YOU SLAYED THE BUDDHA
YOU SLAYED THE BUDDHA
YOU SLAYED THE BUDDHA
.