Surf's Up

Well, I love you baby
But you take second place
When the surf's running straight
And the sun's on my face
I don't give a monkey's
For sniffing glue
'Cause I get my kicks
From my Malibu
With my leash lashed to my leg
And my board well waxed
And my second-hand ambulance
M.O.T'd and Taxed
Ready to go where the surf runs big
Checking-out the waves
Is something I dig
.

I saw this girl
She looked like a peach
Lying nearly naked
On a towel
On the beach
She was wearing a bikini
You couldn't blow your nose on twice
She had a tan like chocolate
And eyes like ice
I said
"Play your cards right baby, and you can have me tonight
But the surf's up right now
So I'll see ya
Alright!

[Illustration by Frederick George Davis]

Biodegradable Beauty

She's lusty
She's busty
She's bursting at the seams
She's overdosed on lentils
And macrobiotic dreams
She's got Tamari stains
Down the front of her smock
Trying to be a smart arse
With a a Chinese wok
She's a soya bean sensation
A dandelion delight
She's got a bearded boyfriend
And a basket on her bike
Biodegradable beauty
That's her bag
Animal exploitation
What a drag
She's sociopolitically painfully aware
Emancipated
Liberated
With a culinary flair
For cooking up reasons
For being out of touch
She's overdosed on Valium
And she doesn't care much
She's a leading exponent
Of the dignified retreat
Living in a world
Of unconditional defeat
She's wearing someone else's party frock
She's got rings around her eyes
She can't keep it together
No matter how she tries
She's tied up in Knots by R.D.Laing
A precarious balance of Yin and Yang
Yoga and Yogurt
Natural high
She doesn't want to change the world
She doesn't even try.

The Lotus Eaters

The hippie haven concept hides
Hypocrites, harlots and has-beens
Stale dreams for a quite demise
Tiny minds leading the blind
Who will tell them they made a mistake?
Who is going to say its been left too late?
No-one will hear
.

Tears on the side of cheeky freedom
Sneers at the bride's sneaky impregnation
And the liberation of three score and
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
And ten
Oh dears
That mighty rise
The technological sky is the limit
.

A war bore the brunt of a generation's virtue
No truth left to deny
Surreptitious spying behind enemy lines
And at the end of the line
Fears
.

They feared THE REDS
Never having to live with THE BOMB
In their heads
They denied their children
Childhood beds
To LIVE WHILE YOU CAN
And sleep in
.

Do they plan yet another WAR TO END WARS?
.

In the rubble came the mistake
GRAB WHAT YOU CAN
YOU GET WHAT YOU TAKE
An ideal to appeal to the freedom of youth
But the truth was entirely different
Let them be
They will
.

Sandy Mandy

Sandy Mandy
She laid her head down
Her knees apart
She wrapped her legs around
Another empty soul
Who buried himself
Within her
.

She accepted his offering
Without fuss
... too soon
... calmly
... gazing
... at the moon
.

Sandy Mandy
She walks alone
Yet never by herself
She sees the boys
All her toys
Or is she theirs?
.

She feels a joy in knowing
... who
... how
... and why
.

Is he good?
Is he bad?
.

I know!
I know!
.

She cries
.

Sandy Mandy
She is ashamed
Yet shame cannot forgive
The boys don't seem to notice
The mind of who they're with
.

So Mandy takes a bow
And lies with them no more
For Mandy is a woman
Now
.

The Gospel Accordingly

The dozens of people who led them astray
All those people who did wrong
Those who stood aside whilst people died
As others actively stood and lied
Unmoved
It belongs to them
The responsibility
The willy-nilly pandering
.

But no
The God we took inside ourselves
"He," who made us lie to ourselves
So that we could not live or die for ourselves
It belongs to HIM
That responsibility
That willy-nilly pandering
.

Jesus save us
While we invest in you
Stocks and bonds
Dirty little pop songs
Ban the bomb
I was told at school that he would rule my life
So it belongs to him
The trouble
The strife
The death
The unemployment
The meandering
The responsibility
The willy-nilly pandering
.

I have been told that when I'm old I'm not to worry
For I have a God who's not in a hurry
To keep me warm
.

Even the Church is cold on Sundays
The priest stands by the fire
His vestments conceal the heat
It's hot down there I'm told
.

I hope I don't get too old
For when I was a kid you could not get to heaven by being that bold
Yet, I am told, that we have to believe in something
It is so much nicer to believe that we are like HIM
And if we sin?
We can be forgiven
.

Old Attitudes

She 'ad legs right up to 'er armpits
And tits so huge she wore blusher on 'er bits
Which moved above the rest of the dress she wore
.

"Cleavage," me Dad said
"Deep gorges to bury yer 'ead in"
.

"Knock ya dead if she rolled over sudden"
.

Cor! Me Dad wouldn't 'alf like to give 'er one
Ride 'er bare back 'e would
None of that there rubber crap
'E was a man, me Dad
.

In General

Dear General
Your tactics failed
On the field of battle
Like flamboyant cattle
Your people danced
To slaughter
.

You ought to realize
That when faced with cannon eyes
The hope and courage die
And all that your god has taught you
Is nothing but a lie
.

Have faith though
In general
The right side win
Against the wrong
Or so we are led to believe
How often
I wonder
The time has come
And by it we are deceived?
.

Would a time of endless
Small persuasion
Lead to only minor cooperation?
I know a nations time to grow
Is only short.
Stop!
Comes the retort from all
This was never how it was meant to be
The needs of nationality
Are endless
Until there is no more
The score was never set straight
.

But my dear General
Is that a tear I spy
In the corner of your
Strategically place eye
Upon the curve
Of your next whore's buttock?
Cry now
For all the small and useless peasants
That died for this moment
Of victory
So rare in ecstasy
.

No.
It was not my sister that longed
For a quiet life
Of childhood memories
But your's
Remember?
.

Look upon the battlefield
Dear General
Do you remember the time
Your mother cried
Beside
Your dead father's empty grave
She turned
And she told you
Too behave yourself
You never listened
Did you?
The spew and blood
Have little meaning now
Still ...
How proud you feel
.

Parenthesis for Existence

Placed at the heart of this sentence like some spent form of punishment (the price of revelation) is the dilemma of his cultural shock. It's not possible to be a prophet in your own land. Fit the kid next door into a credibility destroyed by his own humanity. The reason even Christ went to school in Egypt.

The parenthesis for existence is the price of revelation. And only one who has possessed it all can call the poor to realization of their mighty wealth. The denouncement of the riches they do not possess. And to the rest the attainment of "Buddhahood."

But why should they honor such a god if he was the little sod who, as a child, defiled their sensibilities with his argument. He meant no harm. His charm will have to lie as some revolutionary outside of their society. The reason John the Baptist lost his head at the whim of some little girl's impropriety.

Now. Inside the crack of this paragraph hides a word to master this suggestion. For there can be no preconception at the crisis call. The signs are there for all to see. In the imagery of such illusion all words are meaningless - unable to express without damnation.

Thus greet the insane poet/priest who bears the stigmata of the stanza he stands astride. Greet him as you would the passionate young bride who does not belong to you. Refuse to solve the riddle of that mystery. The lust to know the unknowable. The reason the master speaks not to those who pretend to listen - but to those who ask.

Flotsam and Jetsam

Some are the flotsam that drift with the tide
And some are the jetsam, rejected and have died
Others, like you and I, are but waves of the sea
Existing in a moment of the surf's melody
.

Saddest Clown

Amid applause
Admiring stares
And angers shown of little careless motions
Stands the saddest clown of all
Listen in his silent movements
For a glimpse of his anguished call in pain
He feels the blow of your distain
Foolishly
.

He never found the answer
He never saw the clues
Of how though faultless pity
He came to belong
To you ...
... and you
.

Why?
Questioningly he expresses the need he feels to walk by your side
In the crowd that stare at his stupidity
He sees his own reflection
Crying for his rejection
And you laugh!
.

HA!
.

Why?
Don't cry for them maestro
It is yours and not their show
He feels sorry
For he sees more fools outside him than within
.

And though no sadder sight is there than a sad clown
Don't frown at me!
.

Suburbian Susan

Suburbian Susan
Slides slinkily to the side of the sofa
.

She caresses the back
of a teenager's head
.

Fills his mind full of promises
Of a good time in bed
.

Signaling her intention
With a movement of her leg
.

Suffices to inspire movement
In the pain of his youth
.

Ultimate proof that her body and appeal
Cannot fade
.

She will burn out her rage
.

A burden gained at the demands a husband and children
Have made
.

She lays her body down
Before this pinnacle of truth or
.

Wherever the boy can quickly inspire...
.

On the roof of the building
His knee buried in her thighs
.

They hide from the light of the street lamps
And neighboring eyes
.

His breathing is rapid
As Susan holds onto her toy
.

Over eager hands
Fumble at the lips of her joy
.

Susan encourages the boy's lust
And desire
.

Tickles the fire
And pulls in the thrusts
.

"Too much too soon."
The boy begs
.

Susan smiles
As his finale trickles down the inside of her legs
.

It matters little that her rage
Is not yet burnt
.

A boy of this age is easily raised
She has learnt.
.

Meanwhile, Suburbian Jack
Sat back at the flat
.

Hears tell of his wife's devious
Lack of discretion
.

From his children
Who tell him the story of noise
.

Heard as their mother
Takes possession of boys
.

In the afternoon
.

The children
Being locked in an adjoining room
.

Have peeked through the crack
At the base of the door
.

A lad with his trousers
Around his knees
.

Ignoring the whispered pleas
Of the children's mother
.

To love her, to love her...
Quietly
.

Clandestine meeting
One evening in the park
.

Laid out on concrete
.

Beneath the stark
Labored intentions of her teenage love
.

Hidden by darkness
A husband spies in despair
.

Bare contorted movements
And careless squeals
.

As a boy steals pleasure
His wife never gave
.

Yet he now savors her hands
Gripped tightly in flesh
.

Her voice shout aloud
Demanding the best
.

Demanding the juice
To quieten her fears
.

Which pour from the tears
That scar a boy...
.

... and a man
Wiping the anguished mess from his hands
.

A passing dog sniffs
At sticky bare flesh
.

Its concerned owner
Aeeing the bodies at rest on the ground
.

Makes no sound
As he moves frightened toward
.

A nightmare he has stored
From the National News
... and stories from booze
.

But he sees beauty by the light
Glimmering in the eyes of a boy
.

And Susan hunched over her victim
Holding tight to her joy
.

Licking the remains
And devoring the flesh
.

A vulture of lust
Has left nothing to a tale
.

For the man in the public house
Later to tell
.

And as a frightened young child
Discovered at play
.

Susan runs away crying
Trying to hide her shame
.

A boy proudly remains
With a silly boy smile.
.

Suburbian Susan
Steps from the train
.

She clutches in her hand
All that remains of a mother and wife
.

For a life on the tiles
With her proud young stud
.

On more invention
To embellish their love
.

The sadness and pain
They have left in their hearts
.

The crime and the shame
They have left
.

In the name of ...
Love
.

On The Way To Enlightenment

I tried very hard to be nice
As I stood in line at Baden's paradise
And I crossed my legs as they sermonized
On the way to enlightenment
But I shit my pants at cub scout camp
On the way to enlightenment
.

I was told how lucky I am to be alive
Of all the boys killed and the men who died
Of the wars they fought so that I might survive
On the way to enlightenment
I felt as guilty as hell to be alive
On the way to enlightenment
.

I saw my mother choke on a bar of soap
As my father forced it down her throat
Divorce, it seemed, was her only hope
On the way to enlightenment
Happiness was a childhood joke
On the way to enlightenment
.

I saw my grandfather die as he lay on the ground
The victim of neglect and a family breakdown
He lost his life, and I my paper round
On the way to enlightenment
I blame myself for the way he was found
On the way to enlightenment
.

I loved Sharon Butt, she never loved me
We shared our first contraceptive comedy
I discovered that a woman contains more than a moment's ecstacy
On the way to enlightenment
Many more things didn't seem that clear to me
On the way to enlightenment
.

My father explained that wisdom came in a child's attack
That a little girl's laugh meant more than a single hand clap
That not even a god could do better than that
On the way to enlightenment
I discovered my father was a paedophiliac
On the way to enlightenment
.

And when at last I understood the Messiah's call
I had tea with the vicar at the local church hall
Where I heard Christ had died afterall
On the way to enlightenment
An unconfirmed report implied he was Peter's tool
On the way to enlightenment
.

I broke every commandment of every faith
I am guilty of all those things my mother says
And I'm not proud of the things I did
On the way to enlightenment
Errors self made are the hardest to forgive
On the way to enlightenment
.

And so I stood at the gates of society
Where the pair ran forth with hipocrasy
And the blood ran cold with beach hut philosophy
On the way to enlightenment
I was alone as far as I could see
On the way to enlightenment
.

The truth, I found, the modern world fears
The eyes are blinded by sight and wisdom deafens the ears
The only voice in accord crossed three thousand years
On the way to enlightenment
And no-one said I should shed any tears
On the way to enlightenment
.

Now as a priest of lay I stand to witness the death of an age
As the poet within pursues the folly of the silent page
I ask forgiveness of that ancient sage
On the way to enlightenment
Allow others to burn in the fires of rage
On the way to enlightenment
.

A child's heart is a pure thing
And I may yet learn from the songs I sing
I do find joy in everything
On the way to enlightenment
I discovered that none of these things mean anything
On the way to enlightenment
.

A Little Mistaken Sympathy

The tittle-tattle times have left behind nothing but a dream
A little mistaken sympathy has nothing to do in the meantime
Her mind has been wracked by some misguided facts
An old friend has sold her
A small understanding, a "that's it" statement
From a girl lover who can pretend the world is like this
.

All this for a kiss in the dark
That leaves her in the park and crying
Her sighing in bed as she dreams of the sex she could be
Her trembling knee as her friend finds the key to her youth
All this for the proof of a delicate scene in a harem
Her fragility lies in the thoughts, not the thighs of her lover
.

A little mistaken sympathy is all she has left of the past times
Some rhymes she remembers a drunkard had told her at last
She cries in the moment, her passion dies as she thinks of him
Her friend raises her head at the foot of the bed and smiles
"I'd like a child" she whispers, as her friend wipes her lips of the issue
A dilemma of old but nothing a cold shower can't do
.

A glimpse of the past reveals the last sin that she knew
She is left with the clue of a young poet's words
A way he had shown her
She curls in the arms of her lover's feminine charms and remembers
It's all very nice but it isn't quite right she feels
There's something she misses
That all her lover's caresses can't heal
.

It's not the coarseness of man
Nor is it the dynamic tour-de-force of a man she's mislaid
She had paid for her appeal, with some zeal, at the male alter
It taught her the way she is now
It's the energy she laments
The creative power that meant she could yield
.

A little mistaken sympathy is only the compromise
She can't hide the way that she feels
She has tears in her eyes as the girl beside her denies her a word
And some forgotten phrase a poet had made
Could reveal her absurd discontent
"I've made love with more girls like you than men," his bitter comment
"But then fashion dictates" he says
She hates what he means but he seems to have been here before
.

Her friend sighs in resignation
At the doubt in the young woman's eyes
She knows of the French Café assignation that disturbs with its lies
It hurts to feel the hesitation in the hand on her skin
The harlequin dances on their libidinous whim
A secret sexual pantomime as the mannequin dies
It hurts to feel the way her body shivers as she cries doubt on the pillow
The ladies boudoir is empty they say
.