Shambala

Shambala
 
I like to stand beneath the stars
on the road to Shambala
wild, dishevelled, totally free
pissing ‘neath the lemon tree.
 
There is no more pleasing sound
than someone piddling on the ground,
wide eyed, loose, totally free
like a surfer in the sea.
 
I held a star in my hand
Immediately I could understand
how beautiful you truly are.
on the path to Shambala.
 
 
 

No Wonder

No wonder there are so many love songs.

There are so many ways of getting love wrong.

Most celebrate one or more of these.

There’s more mileage in them than in ecstasy,

a much rarer state to which we all aspire,

happy to burn in love’s all cancelling fire ,

shortcomings forgotten, emotions turbo-charged,

our lives in an instant totally enlarged.

These songs are the apex of creativity

even as they approach ineffability.

*what are some of your favourite love songs?

What Moves You, Moves Me

the musky glow of the candle bowl

the frisson of flesh on flesh

the cinnamon zing of Venetians

crosswords over coffee

Joaquin Phoenix singing Cry, Cry, Cry

the ineffable sadness of Jackson because we both

know people like that

the voice of Johnny Cash, proof that there’s a God

Rick Springfield on Gospel Radio speaking to the sky

& those blackbirds, after rain, bless their untidy little hearts.

‘Quilton Loves Your Bum’

Quilton Loves My Bum

I know it’s clever advertising

but it’s kinda creepy too

the idea that some stranger called Quilton

‘loves your bum’.

Going by his presence on the supermarket shelves

he seems to love a lot of bums.

I’m sure it’s Platonic

but couldn’t they have used ‘like’?

wouldn’t that have been preferable?

It’s sort of reassuring that Quilton ‘loves’ your bun

but it’s kinda creepy too.

If I Sleep In *

1 AOqIfJZqy34IdO2romiT9QI am learning the pleasures of sleeping in

Not leaping up at the first bounce of whimsy

Things can wait.

The Mad Hatter will still have his ball.

Blades of grass still grow tall

If I sleep in.

There will always be another train pulling in at the station.

Things will not be rationed any more or less

If I rest.

Wendy will still be in Neverland

& I can still hold your hand a little longer

If I lie in.

Dreams will not evaporate.

We can still meet each other at the gate.

Beneficence flow free.

I will still be me,

The lambs still bleat.

If I sleep

in

 

* with thanks to Chelsea who saved it & David R who inspired it

 

Anniversary

pool

Do you realize it’s our anniversary today?

No, I didn’t.

Yes, we met a year ago today. In this pool.

Is that right?

Do you know something else?

What? She says.

We have never seen each other with clothes on.

You make it sound sexy. What shall we do to celebrate?

Swim, I suppose.

So off we go, me in my lane, she in hers, like we’ve been doing every Sunday for a year.

 

  • do you remember where you spent your first anniversary?

 

Focused

eddy-billard-M5UD_FyuDl8-unsplash

Speckled with yellow and black light

he focuses on his phone, has he got it right?

Tentatively the fingers tap.

She’s aggressive, he defensive,

She certain, he apprehensive.

They both know what’s coming next

if he misreads another text.

 

  • have you ever sent or received a text that was misinterpreted?

 

*photo by Eddy Billard on Unsplash

 

 

Single White Rolls

IMG_20190406_131121

You got to feel sorry for single white rolls.

Even in packs they can’t make a go of it.

Maybe they should take a good hard look

at themselves

consult relationship experts like couples

on Married …

or search for roll-mates on Tinder.

There must be someone out there.

If ‘Baked Fresh’ doesn’t confer any advantages

I don’t know what does.

Even when consumed they die alone.

It must be a lonely existence.