I am calling for a new web; the old web to be destroyed a new and improved one take its place.
there is a God who turns
the flames of the sun
into the Aurelius Borealis
over a land so full of miracles
it’s a blue suede shoes land
that puts up with extinction
that puts up with climate change
that fights wars in poor countries
that gives to industrialists
by taking away from nature
how long have they got?
What will be their fatal mistake?
The Aurelius Borealis
Is like a rainbow
It is like a sign
It Is like a promise
Of protection
Big dry river
Big dry river
Big dry river
In Madagascar
Put your baby on the scales
See how much she weighs
Maybe gain an ounce or two
In a couple of days
He gave his 24 children
Another empty bowl
They crowded round the visitor
Trying to fill the hole
They stopped you on the wayside
Asking for some bills
The shepherds looked like stick men
Come down from the hills
See them in the river bed
Digging for their thirst
The great dried river bed
Is lonely now it hurts
I’ve got death
Banging on my door
There’s nothing here
You see I’m so poor
I think of death
Not of suicide
Death comes much slower
There’s nowhere to hide
As I grow older
The worse it seems to get
If death were a river
I’d be up to my neck
If death were a river
I’d jump right in and drown
No more, anymore
It all just gets me down
What a contrast to the news I see
In the lonely empty streets
The funerals behind closed doors
The dead ones trying to speak
The lady on the news again
Dressed in glamourous clothes
People in the food bank
Where she never goes
Peak time TV whitewash
Don’t let us know the truth
Keep it in the closet
Like forgotten fruit
The trackers have no faces
As they crawl about the web
To seek you out and bite you
Now their social structure
Like a wasp’s nest in a tree
Like a cancer full of stings
They roast me on a spit
But the flames are crying
The fire light blinds them
So they cannot see injustice
The devil sends them his photograph
They put it on their wall
How do you tell them it’s a lie?
When they dream of him each night
5.
It’s an aching feeling, like a hernia
That I cannot put a name to
It consumes time, like a burning book
It’s a walk across a pebble beach
Love is like a slice of bacon
Its fat is burning, smoking like a chimney
Love is like a faceless chiming clock
A worthless body run over in the street
The false saints of Christendom
Are like bad screw drivers
Like rust that cover a dog
The policies of lies are driven
Into a pile up on the motorway
That’s how fear flies into a memory
Cat lies down on the soft white quilt
That becomes a dream
And in that dreams white clouds
She sees battalions of tom cats
Ready to march on the highest cloud
Like little wooden soldiers with their rifles
On the shoulders
And their tall black hats on their heads
Anchored to the tall white cloud
A white ship filled with jewelry floats
Guarded by the red eyed mice
With lightning in their mouths
Now the battalion’s march
Across the blue sky singing a thunderous song
The red eyed mice throw lightnings
The tom cat soldiers begin to fall
Amongst them is the dream cat’s lover
He falls and breaks apart upon the ground
Dream cat goes over to him
She sniffs his broken body and wails
Her heart is broken, she must wake up
Now she’s awake and looks at the sky
The next time she sleeps
Upon the soft white quilt, she dreams again
She is flying through the sky
Towards the high white cloud
The red eyed mice do not see her
She lands amongst them hissing
She scratches them, she picks them up in her teeth
She throws them here, she throws them there
She reaps death amongst the red eyed mice
They all fall down and expire
The jewels are released from the ship in the clouds
They fall to earth like coloured lights
She gathers them up gently in her mouth
And takes them to safety
As she carefully places them down on the floor
They run around and play like little kittens
I am learning
From a truthful dream
What it is
To find life again
I am learning
From a truthful dream
-Without colour
-Without ornament
I am learning
Not to hurry
Into influence
Other than love
The poisoned arrow
Of your mouth
Did not leave
Your mind
The wind carries the sun
To the heart
Tie up the wastebin
Of your useless robberies
The vain cries
From a mountaintop
If you get your share
Of the loot
The loot
Gets its share
Of you
Sleeping
In a small hole
Where to sleepwalk?
Where to dream?
The touch of a wall
Make of
Flowing hands
That walk in chains
Your raisin mother
In an empty vineyard
A culture squeezed
An economy that lies
It’s everywhere
In the capitol plan
Like a crust of poverty
Around the monuments of humanity
There is an invitation
From the sky
To throw out
The old year
It’s written in the sunlight
It sticks to you
With a gentle song
Even the sound of the road
Is destined to be a river
As you listen
You hear family voices
Like the slight cracking sound
Of a growing Magnolia tree
Human economy
Human culture
It cannot last
Its fruit is made of stone
A flower of knives
A scent of blood
A painfully withered leaf
Crushed by grey death
Throw out your grappling hooks
Into the trees
Save yourself
Out of the circus
Or place yourself
Amongst the desert rocks
That once
Were fruit
The wind on your belly
The smell of life
I know that too
I know love
The buds on the Magnolia tree
I shiver with apprehension
A prayer leaves me
An invisible mist from the earth
You – speaking with your eyes
You feel love
You thought love grew straight
That it’s easy to avoid
Then it spirals out of control
A madness in the sun
Sitting in the back of the van
With the tumbling furniture
The blurred road in the early morn
Following the voices through the rapids of shapes
Of slamming doors and vanishing road
Where was I from?
The passing of memory
The traces of a long-lost street in obscurity
No existence there
No existence – dumped in the back of a van
Not worth the trouble of my birth
Not worth a thing
Mikes New Web 