OLD SOUL STARE

I've been going through a pretty fallow time writing wise lately. I tell myself you have to take in before you can give out, so I've not been that concerned, and it looks as if the poems are starting to arrive again. This one I wrote today. It was one of those that came almost complete. I think it needs a little work but here it is.

all new borns have this old soul stare

as if they’ve not quite got used to being back in the flesh

or just where they’ve ended up this time

they look into our eyes

[yes I know they can’t physically see]

and speak to us soul to soul

this place never changes does it

let’s make the best of it eh

and usually we do

My poetry is direct. What you see is what you get. Sometimes I call it reportage, I am reporting what I have seen. But this poem is the result of a number of thoughts I've had over the years about how wise newly born babies look. 

I've just bought the new album by Basauo Kouyote. It is as excellent as you would expect. He's touring the country in June. I am shocked that I cannot access a video from youtube! I leave you with Baba Maal instead, who also has a new album out in March. 

Until next time.

AN ECHO

Here's an older poem that I've finally worked into a shape I am happy with. You can read the earlier version here.

PERHAPS

Once more

the water called to him

to renew their pact

a life on the ocean

beyond the horizon

past the smudge of land and dust.

It was his repeating dream.

The Lisbon waterfront

after the great earthquake

early in the dawn

he walks to the cathedral

to give thanks for his son’s birth.

He knows in this instant

if he does not heed the salt water’s song

he will not visit that city until he is past thirty.

Catching in his first sight of the cathedral

an echo, nothing more

soon replaced by stone and mortar.

Few of us make the right choice.

I think this version is more compact and reads better. At the moment I am compiling a new collection. Watch this space for news. 

Here's some music from the wonderful Palooka 5! They have a new album out next week.

Until next time.

BLOW UP A STORM

Sometimes life just puts you in the right place at the right time. I was recently passing our local conservative club and I stopped to watch as a person with a leaf blower cleared the carpark of leaves. I couldn't help thinking that this is what they want to do to everyone who attempts to enter this country, either that, or fly them to Rwanda. Then I read about the new tory deputy chairman. You couldn't make it up.

SEEING THEM OFF THE PROPERTY

his right hand wields the power

motor chunters monotone

determination

features hard set

mouth a thin line

watch the leaf blower manhandle every leaf

chucking them all out in to the street

I stand on the pavement

at the bottom of our ocean atmosphere

see him blow up a storm

sending them back where they came from

The poem has taken much writing. I think I was telling rather than showing. Perhaps in a couple of months I may decide it is still too telling.

Here's Brooke Sharkey. She's just raised the money to record a new ep. After seeing her live last summer I for one can't wait to hear it.

Until next time.

DECOUPAGE FOR THE MIND

Wednesday was the biggest day of action for decades but the government didn't care. They appear to be only interested in ruining the country. But enough of the public school educated elite who are not interested in the people they are supposed to represent, I  found an old poem the other day, one I had forgotten about. I rearranged the layout and changed the odd word. 

DECOUPAGE FOR THE MIND

He can think photographs

scry alternate worlds

He holds the light sensitive paper to his forehead

his thoughts embellish it with another life

He keeps only the good ones

told me he burns the horrors

Keeps the snapshots in scrapbooks

they cover the walls of his flat

Only works when he has to

needs to pay for the paper

The experts told him

he only made collages

Identified three separate films

merged on the one page

Declared he was a wizard

with scissors and a colour copier

He stopped showing people after that

just sat in his chair and thought

Interesting idea, isn't it? I am sure I read about a man who could do this when I was a child. The word scrying refers to a technique you may know as distant viewing- the ability to visualise a distant place accurately. Sort of astral travelling, something else I have always wanted to do.

I've been listening to Pollyanna's new album a lot this week. You can hear it [and buy it] here.

Until next time.