Category: Art, Music and Poetry blog

Pass Over Me

Verses

When I left my home
It was a donkey town
With the marshes
All-around
I’m an orphan child
With no family
Angel of death
Pass over me

I’m a firstborn son
An only one
My parents died
I was left to run
I saw the rider
On the sea of reeds
Angel of death
Pass over me

The night descends
I look for a bed
The stars disappear
The midnight is dread
I’m an orphan child
With no family
Of angel of death
Pass over me

The Egyptian king
He wouldn’t let go
To the saviour
He kept saying no
My parents died
There’s only me
Oh lord of death
Pass over me

There was a door
With a painted sign
A hand came out
And grabbed me in time
I’m an only child
Let me be free
Oh angel of death
Pass over me

Chorus

Pass over me, pass over me
I’m an orphan child, a firstborn son
I sleep in the field, I work in the sun
Oh, please, pass over me

There’s a powerful barrier

There’s a powerful barrier that I can’t break through.
It opens like a kiss and guides the horses through

A gateway to the powers of love
Frozen shut by the enemy of time.

There’s a rule book by a doomsday queen
And nobody knows what the rules inside mean

Written in scars upon the flesh
Written in scars upon the flesh

Inside the walls are the people of the heart
Under siege, the people starve

From their stagnant rooms, there’s no way out
Unless that dream-man calmly shows you how

Happiness is that the goal you seek?
The mecca of the innocent, the holy of the meek

Something under-developed in me

Something under-developed in me:-
My horns breathe in, then they force out the air
Maybe they will branch out like trees
Without them I cannot fight and gore

Something under-developed in me: –
My claws, to crawl, to maul
Without them, I can’t hold on to a thing
Without them, I can’t fight and claw

Something under-developed in me: –
My fangs, my own teeth are crushed
Destroyed by the kiss of a thief moon
Without them I cannot fight and bite

Something under-developed in me: –
My pathways and walls not negotiated
My bones not rigged out properly
My heart unable to cope is an empty railway hut

And you bird, set into the earth

and you bird, set into the earth
tuned in, with no need of
thought or emotion; for any change
a perfectly flying instrument, you, bird.

and I wish I were now perfectly set
into the world, upon the earth
like a diamond, lasting forever
tuned in, perfected for existence.

2004

Spring is here (a cubist poem)

Green chick shoot
Egg bulb in the earth
Like little yellow spiders
The chicks
Pour out of the bulb
In their hundreds

While the hen
Sits on sprouting daffodils
or lays daffodil bulbs
In the earth

Green chicks spring out of the ground
Eggs are stuffed with daffodils
Green shoots of clucking daffodils
Cover the earth

Green chick shoots
blurting in the soil
Without mouths
Sporting little green angel wings
And then a heady scent
Comes out of their bills

Bulbs sprout legs
And run about the field
– The hen eats them

A chick wears daffodil petals like a ruff
And withers like a straw

Bulbs have baby chicks inside them
That flower in the sunshine
And then are put into flat trays
To be sold in supermarkets

Storage space

 

The storage space pales my face lacking grace
The storage space needs storage space to be wiped clean off the slate

I cram it, cram it
I cram it with guts, the guts of my existence

Crates and boxes
Cupboards and drawers open and close all day long in frustration

What do I have to put into the storage space?
Things fleetingly used,

Books become bricks
Clothes become dead sheep

So I need storage space for transient purchases
Once used items or to bury memories

Hide failures, cover over failings
Fears and obsessions, maps of losses, leftovers on plates