Friday, 23 October 2015

The angel with laryngitis

An angel coughs, an angel coughs
And the bloodless are remade
Head-gems assembled in the grave
Bone-houses built for those who prayed

The dead are stirring in the soil
The dead are sprouting from old seed
The dead are flowering from the earth
All blossomed corpses craving to be freed

The angels cough, the angels cough
And all the graveyard lights switch off

Thursday, 22 October 2015

The Tourist

I watched him beam down, that tourist guy,
The tailored one, luggage in hand, into party land,
The republic of strobe lights and one-night-stands,
Blue sky, blue sky, blue sky, blue sky.
If he tried to listen, really tried, he couldn’t fail
To hear those silent shots, that swelling silent wail.
I hear the thunderous voice of some travel agent say:
"This is my customer, whom I have sent;
If you harm him, you shall most surely pay."
So he waltzes through the snow and gore content,
Bulletproof, from all that boring stuff immune,
And flies back home, whistling a simple tune.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

The Trivial Demon

We tread softly in the garden of solitude
We dare not stir the leaves
He sits and watches through the trees
Eyes glittering from the eaves
This minor demon steals around
The jade-like quiet of these woods
To embitter our hard-won soil
To sniff out beauty and despoil
To uncreate our love and toil
Although his judgment must be near
For now we can but love, and fear.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

The Holy Seat

So the Lord climbed inside her
Took a seat within her heart
Drove her mad with holy spirit
Lord drove her mad with holy spirit
Screechin’ hymns inside her heart

Oh, Jesus climbed inside her
An’ took a seat within her heart
Lord Jesus sent her teachin’
Our Lord Jesus sent her preachin’
Screaming sermons from her heart

The scenes they are a-changin’!
The darkness it’s a-comin’!
The four winds are a-blowin’!

Lord drove her mad with holy spirit
From his chair inside her heart
The power of prayer turns inward
The fire of love burns inward
From the Christ inside her heart

Wednesday, 3 September 2014

The Weather-Glass

A miniature sun, encased within glass
Mirrors its own ungenerated light.
At night, the replacement bulb is off-white,
Reflecting a reflection of a reflection.
The Weather-Glass is my ecosphere—
Sunlight fills me up; I photosynthesise.
The glass shields me from contained rain;
Domed lighting cannot strike.
When snow flakes in the sphere, I hibernate.
The Weather-Glass keeps me warm and dry,
It will keep me safe until I die.

The Goat King

Is this not the mighty Egypt
(The sun lights the defined mountain of God)
Which I have built up with my own strong hand?

It was said, and yet unsaid, but thunder
Struck—Kingdom fled from the blasphemous king
And stole his jewelled crown.

Yahweh had heard, and he took out his paint,
Feathering the skin, the nails clawing,
The godlike sketch furiously redrawing

And dropped him into an unfurnished world.

Now, bearded like a goat, the old king yelps
Each night, at the heavens, begging that God
Restore his former seat, and kill the sheep.