I wear red shirts now
Not black
Sometimes
I comb my hair
And tie it back

White roots show

I still smell of darkness
And the crow

The website was called sugar daddy.com
The strangest of websites to type in
Ancient hopefuls looking for some
Immature females who'd ripen

Pig eyed and wrinkled in denim or jeans
With so much loot to give
Waiting to pay some silly young girl ,
Who needs the money to live

Why go to uni ?why get a degree?
Sugar daddy.com exists
It's much better than a salary
When dollars are clutched in their fist

I've visited the distant sea
and walked its briny sandy shore
as seagulls seemed to call to me
above the breakers' ceaseless roar.

They'd fly ashore at the first light
as if some fabled far side land,
a land beyond both ken and sight,
had sent them to this beach's strand.

Then they'd leave and fly beyond
the far horizon's misty end
as if upholding some strange bond.
They'd glide away on evening's wind.

paisley print
sunflower smile
sat alongside
a leopard that ate parsley
paw in hand
waiting on the sand
for flying fish
to skip upon
cobalt banners
as lazy breezes
pan-fluted recollections
of this Iberian summer

The truth of my existence
was in my father's eyes,
he loved me with his whole heart
in between tying his ties.

The fight for my existence
was within my siblng's reach;
I vastly underrated their
abilities to teach.

The aire of my existence
was urged along by friends,
taking me down pathways
that taught me of the trends.

The light of my existence
lives in my mother's eyes;
she loves me unconditionally
when I let her down, she cries.

Something happened to the red lonely bird
Amongst the tall trees of Akai woodland
The bush frightens him deep to the marrow
Something happened, that is why he whimpers
All night long, he hollered, doo-doo, doo-doo

Among the dwellers of Isale Eko
At night men stay indoors because of fear
Crime escalates and the policemen harass
Something happened, that is why they bawl
Night fear wears toga and parades the streets

wake up, my love,
the sun is up,
you are yet asleep…
the sun-rays are waiting for thee
as you awake the glow of my face,
you will really see.

wake up my love,
the time has come to go…

how on this earth you wish to stay,
yet have your own way,
without the soul of life,
which as we all know is honey.
for that to beget,
a son we have not yet,

so my love, go to work
earn some money.
when you come home,
after your labor and toil,
i shall wait with open arms;

HUSHED MORNING (25th December)

This morning when I woke,
was grey,
I thought the night had stolen day,
but no,
it was the snow that bore the light
so soon after Christmas night.

When even stars were hidden,
and clocks of white spun down
around our sleeping heads,
making softest sounds
in hushed quiet mounds.

catcher in the sun
the gleam like shells
falling

brass ignitions
like chinese lanterns
rising

falling wishs
like dead stars

drive about full
the gut tension
glassy
past decorated
houses

brilliant meadows
gathered on tests
beyond the thunder
of the periphery

like tracer sickness
pumping in veined
valleys
burning hot in Love

we need the taste
of heaven
not nicotine
and Zippo fuel

Constantinople

The air is rife with singing bells,
in this heart, there joy rings
yet in the deep is heard the knell
that weeps for passing things.

To ancient stories we must hold
to failing hope we cling,
believing all that we are told,
what joy this season brings!

The lion once lay with the lamb
digesting in his gut,
and to an end we must succumb
and pass this earthly rut.

Yet in this folly must we hold,
and to our faith, must cling,
believing all that we are told,
what joy this season brings!