grounded

 not all birds winter in the south      some of us are flightless       moribund and exhausted       some of us are accidents        car crash victims      veterans of unhappy wars       long since wounded    and purple hearted       they say having flown      you’ll forever walk the street       with your eyes on the sky       for there you have been and long to return       not to reap or sow       but to soar without constraint         beyond imagination

I have wounds       hidden scars        but all my surfaces      such as they are       present spotlessly clean      at least to the naked eye     but I’m filthy         by decent human standards     and my wings of wax     drenched in lust        fucked up and sorry         have failed me        in the hour of my disillusionment      forever fixed in space     in the moment of crashing         I am leaden now       and planted in the soil of my woeful discontent     

plastic gods

more than sometimes      during a powerful lunar phase     I get the spiritual impulse     to make my own bible      and live by its verses     to blow my own trumpet       till the walls come tumbling down      I am alive and always changing      the crown of creation adorns my brow     I’m truly living the human experience     the high of all highs     the most holy of holies     the revelation of incarnation    has lit me up     a beacon of truth      in the fog of ignorance

I’m getting into the world     and everything in it      riding the waves of existence    through the ever expanding now      where  everything ever imagined is real      we create ourselves from that mosaic of fancy      but we’ve evolved into plastic gods     makers and breakers of private worlds      each is imperfectly cast in their own distorted image   we are the graven idols in the temples of babylon    the worship of self is the religion of hubris     and hubris precedes disgrace     sure as the ebb and flow of every lunar phase

solipsist

it was written in the stars       that we were doomed from day one     life has called the tune and beckons us to dance     the universe will unfold as we always knew it would      no one can change the past        we can’t even change the future       I curry favours in the here and now       planting seeds in adjacent lots    I glimmed for a moment there    and exercised the will      to fancy myself something special        at the centre of the whole enchilada       but I was lonely in the universal    and  I wondered     has our god deserted us?       or were we always all alone?

autumn leaves

buried under autumn leaves      the shadows of summer feed the soil     winter did not cheat them of life    it laid them down in silent pastures     to gift them rebirth in future days     I am wounded now    at least in spirit     I don’t know how or why    the winter has kissed my lips      the cold has touched my heart    but I still know how to love      and I’ll be coming back     so bury me in rotting leaves     rest me now for future days     just don’t lose my number     lover wait for me

 

sexual magnetism

 I still taste you      after all this time      you have a hold on me     I don’t seem to mind     it was all about sex      and sex is power     we shared an energy    sexual magnetism      I don’t remember the question     but sex was the answer      you knew that of me       you saw me coming      from a long way off       just another man     who would never control you       and I was hurt      I was paralysed     I felt helpless      that’s not attractive    in anyone’s eyes     we are all sexual creatures   and in a perfect world      we could fuck without consequence       but it’s not a perfect world        you were flawed      and so was I     the passion seemed intense       was it all in my mind?      do you remember me fondly?     or was I too unkind?