I had a sense of
The broken shallows of the soul
Cut by an angel’s burning sword
Until only – a flickering candle remained
I felt: I was no more than the concrete – in a car park
Used and abused – soulless walls
To where neglect takes flight
Like a plucked bird escaping from a plate
My cards were thin
My hearts breath a dry lake
But peeping through the ruins
Love was there still, ready to speak
I watch the unwanted teenager
Approach the abyss
Really it was a tower with a moat all around t
It was an island alp surrounded by deep lakes
Yes, I watched the unwanted teenager
Approach the sliced water filled rock faces
Everything behind her destroyed
by the stuffed animals of her home life
one bright new thing came to life
irrespective of the destruction wrought upon her
on the other side of the abyss
in the alpine region of our minds
a set of tuning forks floating up right
reformed into a tubular sun
she leapt across the abyss like a new child
reaching out for its new creation
The hinge
Of the door
Was broken
The door
Came off in my hands
I was looking
At light and ice
That had been
Hidden from view
I fell away
Blinded
With the door
In my hands
So, I speak to the kitchen knife
And I say “hello”
It appears it’s missing
My mother’s hand
I cannot explain to the knife
Where my mother is
I don’t even know myself
So, I ask the kitchen knife
“Have you had much work to do?”
I’m just trying to be nice
I know that it’s had a very long life
-I rummaged about in the drawer
And I pulled out the kitchen knife
It had been there
In the rattle and clank of knives and forks
Since the grandfather clock caught fire
And the cloakroom filled up with schoolboy frogs-
“Cut up anything lately” I asked
Just to shock it a bit
It replied “not in a long time”
It said that it preferred being used for counting garden peas
And told me how it had been left
in a sink full of washing up for years and years
“Where was that?” I asked
“It was in the house of knives”
After a rainy day
I find a pool of water
In the street
It’s a girl
I say “hey girl, what’s up”
She says that she’s hiding
I look at the pool of water
And I feel sad
It used to be a girl
Anonymous
Who, passing through thickets
Of a thorny society
Decided to hide
And become a lovely pool of water
The big men with big feet
Don’t see her as she moves out of their way
A preacher from social security
comes charging down the street
With an appointment
She’s to attend
Her mother now a worker ant
Crawls by muttering the twelve times table
It’s a nice rainy day
Now in the aftermath
The blind man’s dog disappears into a black van
Around the corner sits the giant strong man
Atlas, tying a blade to his spear
It’s as impossible as this
I cannot even lift her up
She reforms on the ground
To wait for the stars to come out
It’s almost as if she never was
my poetry is wavelengths down from the last trumpet
my poetry has been thirteen fields away from the western wall
my poetry is a million raindrops down from the nano-sphere
my poetry is fourteen cloaks away from a glass slipper
rising out of the lake like a giant key hole
travelling through the forest like a wind in the willows
circling the earth like an eagle carrying an oxygen cylinder
going home to Mum like a sack of coal in a pram
divided like a bar of chocolate between two little mouths
divided like two highways with no sideroads
divided like aa marriage with empty cupboards
divided like a family into different bumping cars at the fair
my bumping car has graffiti painted over it
my bumping car has had the seat burnt out of it
my bumping car is overturned in a scrapyard
my bumping car still has lights that flash across the other crumpled car bodies
there is a car body being taken to the police pen
there is a car body rolling over a mountain
there is a car body having its number plates stolen
there is a car body dismantled by ammunition and gunpowder
my poetry went down that road
alone and broken hearted
walking into waterfalls of madness
and crawling out of the other side
the albatross
thinks
it is a jail bird
but it’s not real
it’s only
your imagination
and picking up
the chains
that fell
out of the sky
I begin to fly
Don’t let
Your feelings
Get the better of you
I can’t believe it
Life is here
It tickles inside me
It is laughter melting
Something has succeeded
A prayer has rooted down
That the darkness cannot fight
A spirit of birth
When each thought
accepted the other
In the mind
When each feeling
Is placed chromatically
In the heart
Life-ship
Begins its circumnavigation
After the explosion
Has drained away
The water level returns
Better than before
Sing to God
a psalm of everything
sing To God
Everything in a psalm
Can you see
The cat on the bench
And the dogwood rose
Can you see
The flowering shrugs
Where the honeysuckle grows
If I were not at peace
Would any of this grow
What more can I do?
What else is there to know
Can you hear
Occasional laughter
From the window where I live
Can you hear some odd discussions?
It’s only what I give
If I were not at peace
Would any of this exist
What more can I show you?
Then this
Some have only just begun
To build their garden
Some think that a garden grows by itself
Some have a garden built on a graveyard
Some think a garden is brought with wealth
Can you hear the occasional bird singing?
Can you see the slugs and snails around the leaves?
If I were not at peace
Would I bother
To entertain anything
Like these
Spinning wheel
My life has been like a wheel
Spinning out of control
Until it spins quite freely
On an axis made of gold
And although I reached out to people
People did not respond
Then I saw a greater thing
In the mountain range beyond
Washer and buffers
We are like wheels without washer
We wear down in rust
Pollution gets to us
It’s all dust
Like a station without buffers
When the train comes to crash
Blood leaks out like water
Into the wash
Mikes New Web 