Monday, 1 February 2016

Knotted Castle

I made friends with a tooth,
for he was alone,
had lost a friend,
needed an embrace
For there are deserts
as well as canyons in our

We are the Ossuary People, 
Inlaid with abalone
bone brigands with

snaffled desires
poached in vinegar
and lusting after tardy  
secular saints
full of joyous horror

Heart, flag and cross, 
God preserve us
endear us & enjoin us
In a waxen-blood franchise

Are people mad enough 
to call themselves 
this or the other ?
Reiterating, reconfirming
driving the knives deeper 

I must believe myself for 
I am not lonely,
but a whole.

idyllic remains by a river, 
Gin soaked beauty 
shimmering like grey vanity
over early autumnal
domicile drivel In extended and
expansive bliss.

Candle light and rain,
looking for twilight in vain
shining across the
short-cut lawns 
dusky cadences 
long & glorious 
cast out like furnace coal 
by the dragging afternoon.

Saturday, 30 January 2016

To live and die in Londis

One doesn't live in London,
one dies in London.

A Winter Queen of Bohemia in
our midst
Elsewhere lives too
dry Elizabeth Essex.
Dream of brimmed lotions,
quicksilver and
final, eternal rule.

The snail dance meets
the Stork's rising
to phoenix family
Oh yes, the praxis wheel
reccuring 'infinity',
shivering daggers of flame.

The more they have,
the more resentful they get.
Resentful bores
who, being ignoble,
in the end become
most soft-boned.

Atheism, pointless too,
because Nihil is also
a God
The Aesthetic preferable
to mere Ascetic. 

Saturday, 9 January 2016

De Montfort

Gamblers, Marquesses
impious ridiculous drunken 
dawn duels 
attended by heretical livery
Wanton cornucopias of privilege,
epicene tragic crusaded singularities
passaged by bacteria
dessicated coconut confetti
chalky wines of monks and Kings,
finest Colombusted snow-drivel,  the
sugarcane of Corinthian Gods.

In essence there are but few
who reach attic tragedy 
as attainment
they are never philosophers.
Tragedy is impersonal nobility,
tragedy is a fiery dragon on 
a turning wheel.

Wednesday, 30 December 2015


Finally the orgy over
with macabre fiefdoms
to come;
A dark age rises,
civilisation breaks brittle as a biscuit,
crumb by crumb
Marching to militias
amid gloomy plastic meltdowns
the wires trailing nowhere
The sun has shone, the day
has come and gone
the evening was sweet and elegiac,
now the darkness soars
and the leaves fall
in resignation and despair,
wilting to damp and dissolute mud
Minor notes are struck,
the major has long faded.

Sunday, 27 December 2015

Oh Fox, feline hound
saline foe, serpentine member 

over a weary grey season 
the last dance of 
twinned redcoats
pert part prance

Unlike that adored 
rodent, the rabbit
You've earned your guise in the 
weft and wattle of this land

Would you see off 
the hoof smiths
horn blowers
horse chargers
Or is the hunter
as much in your heart as
you in his ?

Red flame-breasted brothers
the hounds, horns, thunder of claws
in each others'
imperceptible dream
Last free master of
mythical wiles,
and pitiless fate.

Will your embrace be ended,
your chronicle discontinued ?

Unknown muse 
of this land,
Scrutinized by
frivolous and benign bosoms,
extraneous mothers
Altogether a far-away steel gaze
pitifully projected upon fate

For it's a strange dance
on your pasture 
Beguiled, we remain with
your unwritten saga
Blinded by your bounty of wit 
Bound by your passion 
of war

Monday, 21 December 2015

I am a backdoor Mantis,
the people I know,
don't give a damn
and eat their lovers heads

He's a Wilberforce man
signed his own death warrant,
such is the gage of death, or
the devil's metaphysic.

hot trumps, hot suites, hot turnips, hot roots
hot sheets, hot toots, hot teats, hog rats

Im a back door mannequin, the
big whorehouses don't understand
but the the little girls prance 
after Mantis 


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