scrolling down the avenue
mistaking this super-thin smoothly
edged neon light
for That otherwise
lightness of being
We grunt aggressively
as I and I
collide.
St Mary’s Wanderings
Recently I spent a happy a few hours wandering around
St Mary Redcliffe Church, photographing the amazing gargoyles of grimacing animals and hybrid half man half pig type embellishments peeking out from the masses of concrete ivy chiselled into a vast assortment of archways and ancient crannies.
In time, with stomach rumbling and mobile phone on twenty percent , I left the carvings and the must-damp coolness, and while the quite scary religious blokes who are for ever stoned upon the high outer walls watched, I pootled my way into our lovely city in search of grub.
Somehow my car fume fuelled feet found me at The fine Cathedral on Park Street, and what the f? With almost no thought towards my need for another one of their oversized scones and strong coffee, I stopped at the Saxon plaque that is silently hung at the entrance of some murky side crypt.
I stopped and pondered the plaques blurred stone work, which, I was reliably informed, shows Jesus being pulled into the underworld by some insistent gaggle of less than lovely lost and grasping types.
The resulting disconcerted scribbles made upon a wobbly table, in between the coffee stains and buttery scone crumbs later transformed into this kind of weird poem…
Caged white folk in missed pigeon shit
And Old Testament zeal like sad poultry sit
In the sunshine, biding their perch
Until wreathed in the New-cut throb twilight
Poached by soft lamplight, they chill out
To evensong-scum-tide, as dark times approach.
Gall-gothic grimaces steep dust by the day
While intertwined surfaces are eaten away by
Diesel lead carriages until moonlight unfolds
Vine screed wine skinned ancient gargoyles and
Big bearded blokes sceptred to ride the
Four-legged tree folk, who leaping on wing
Of gossamer swift true grit, fly bold to some walled crypt
To save Christ the King from a nightly torn grippage
Through gnarled grasping cracks of red nails, wails and stoned teeth
Upon Dark Saxon plaque, dragging Passion downward
While underworlds peek up cassock to sip fresh blood
From chunks in His feet.
And paced at some distance, two foreign faces
Both wise and benign, emerge from stoned entrance
And follow gently behind, to spin Sufi wisdom of
Otherness and love, to encircle and question
That Heaven’s above,
That Hell is below us
That wrath may destroy us
That only we know how to define
The gateway to Oneness and thus
Truth Divine.
Let Icons be bygones, return tamed to One womb
Of moist waves and vibrations, until desert lands bloom
And the profits lost leaders, sow loves lightening speech
To grow fresh simple cities, where the warmed rivers meet.
Loss
Loss
and when it comes
we are alone
plunged
together in a tight squeeze
of the heavy heart
and with eyes like
saucers
I watch rain drops
fill and spill
a little a lot
and often
reddening the damp of our cotton soft skin
while witnessing
the rebuild
of partial worlds
on the unknown plains
of my family
familiar.
Pan Ten Pro Vee
After taking stock of my hair line,
skin and inner harmonious balance within my local Boots Pharmacy I finally saw the light:
Oh happy me, for you are there for us
Right now in this new balding light of day, and all I can say
Is I feel so jolly, blinking Regenerous.
Ha ha and Glory-be, for now there is no denying
My Lord Pan Ten Pro Vee,
That you are truly, scientifically, age defying.
And so I pray to all your saints in their wrinkling disguise
I praise, ‘Oily Yu Lay’ to your Pentapeptides
For You let me rise and flow to be, me.
To be radically free
To activate in jollops and dollops of refilled truth
The Total Effect 7 of my Liposome-ic youth.
You see, a long long time ago for true
All I really knew was that yellowed cream sludge,
In a pot, that quietly grew dust upon my bathroom cabinet top.
Until once a year its Vaseline slug would ooze thick and smear upon
Chap and crack and spot and that was it, a simply sticky sludge-cream solution
To paste on my face post ablution.
But oh oh happy me I’m now saved in a new and evolving trinity
Of Nutriluim, Regenerum and Pan Ten Pro Vee
Yes Yes Yes
Nutrillium, Regnerum and Pan Ten Pro Vee.
But low, behold and oh blige me to this ever increasing changing flux,
For now what stirreth in yonder bright green box?
Not Niva-Quo 10 for my anti frizz lox?
But yes my friend and plus plus for it truly beggars all belief
Only a Deepening Real Joy of 7,927 Tingling Mint-leaf
To moisten and expand my Original Source of heaven
My Omega 3
And of course silly me
My Fully Proactivated VO of 7.
All change if you please, my brows, my pout, my gait, my OM
Re-grout, Re-lift my face my bum
And firmly take me in your hand, Rehydrate, Re-perfect, nay Drama Clean
All my Q10 Plus,
Nutragene all the Naicin 3 inside of me
All my SP15, Keratine, Pro-Enhancing Vitamin D
Yes Yes Yes
Fibro fill me so I can sprout deeply within
Your gushing rushing media flush of Liquid Germaneering
Alpercin.
Oh happy Caffeine lightweight me,
You Multi-effect my anxiety
You Equaderm, Pro-firm and soothe away
My Facial Burn and Razor Cut
In Guava, Argon, Cashmere Carbon, Pure
Maca
Daima
Nizing
Nut.
For as you say, you even work from the very first use
And that’s a very handy trick to have my son
You can Propolis me in your 3 minute Pro-Retinal
Honey Bee Juice
All day long.
Until I come to sleep and you night night me
Until you Nivea-Barricade all of my fatigue
And so so sensitively validate all my dreams in
Iceronic Grape Night Creams.
And so to sleep, to worry and perspire
Within the secret fantasy that I could retire
And dare escape your ever increasing spell.
For can’t you see and can’t you tell
Don’t get me wrong
My new every moment Omni-Portioned Silver Serum,
But for true, you could release me,
For you knew, you had me at
Pan Ten Pro Vee all along.’
And so sleep I do until the mourning kingdom come:
‘Aloe Vera,’
‘Allo my Gold Tantastic son.’
Fifth Mindfulness Training: Nourishment and Healing
‘Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful consumption, I am committed to cultivating good health, both physical and mental, for myself, my family and my society, by practising mindful eating, drinking and consuming……I am determined not to try cover up my loneliness, anxiety, or other suffering by losing myself in consumption.’
Oh yes, I temporarily forgot (again).
Walking to work
With red painted toes, black crust on her heal
she’s slipped into stilts for that summertime feel.
Clock, slip, clack, slip, click, and Pantene Pro-V
and that shiny new hair flick as she overtakes me.
While weight watchers samba around ly-cra tight glutes
gay and straight clamber to touch up her roots.
She’s high fashion, low belt line, max factored for all weathers
she’s re-sprayed her sunshine and Brazilianed her nethers.
White sling-backs on kilter, she’s ready and able
to highlight her assets, her Pri-Marne price labels
and as I watch, the sway of her figure
my beer belly drops and bald patch grows bigger
my left shoulder aches for her thimble sized bag
and I move one step closer to being just like my dad.
Finding Joy in the City
Joy hides away from those that pace in workaholic mist
and hangs upon the everyday sweet moments as a gift.
She scents the pine trees after rain, ignites the northern star
and knows if hearts can beat the same then She can travel far.
Joy walks soft sand beneath Her feet across the city centre,
She offers love to littered street and sunshine to November.
Joy stands for someone on the bus, confirms they are worthwhile
by promising the lightest touch exhaled within a smile.
Joy is the breath in crinkled leaves, browning in the light
She lets the trawl of seagull breeze catch tears within mid flight.
Joy creates the daydream nest, where life and soul pretends
a childish state with lemon zest and imaginary friends.
Joy steams the lilacs in my bath, oils incense on my back
She mixes warmth from open hearth with ice cubed whiskey mac
then with fresh sheets upon my bed She takes me down to lie
and drifts my tired and aching head on waves of ‘Sailing By’.
city slowness 