The Replacement

The microchip popped in for a chat
It didn't have a lot to say
It just sat down in my chair and sent me away
Out into the void of the unemployed
I asked it for my job back and it got annoyed
It stamped its little plastic foot and kicked me out the door
It sneered at me through the letter box as I sprawled out on the floor
I could still hear it laughing as I crawled into the street and I bumped into a Bobby who was thrilling to the beat
A machine strapped to his shoulder dictating his every move
A centralized computer to keep him in the groove
I could see my reflection In the toe cap of his boot
I could tell by his reaction that my presence didn't suit
His idea of efficiency
I didn't fit his plan
So I offered a sickly smile
Got up and ran
Down to the cafe in search of relief
I opened the door and crumpled up with grief
The big and friendly waitress whose finger nails were never quite clean
Was signing on the dole somewhere
She'd been replaced by a machine

"Cas Et" Programme Cover

Butterflies Fall

Butterflies fall in autumn
Carcasses fade on solemn earth
Colors rot at the birth of the season's decline
A time for vibrance to die dimmer
And darkest dark to glimmer with simmering light
And those nights!
Silent
Still
Waiting
.

Butterflies fall in autumn
Murmured stutters lift the breeze
The ease by which death flutters still
The moment's ill omen resting
Awakening heaven's dream
Nature's scheme spontaneously revealed
.

Yes, I Remember Glory

A dying sacred look within her eyes
This child of endless sorrow
Staring at the joys of another's lost tomorrows
A tear fell short of all her desires -
A weapon we all use
.

She stood, taking blow after blow
In an effort to abuse
.

And yes,
I remember the way those tears fell
Bringing destruction in their path
Yes, I remember glory
.

Only As Far As The Next Dream

Golden
She leaps
And is nestled within my solar plexus
With such joy
That the seed of life threatens to leave us
In despair
.

She holds in surprise as we withdraw
Doubts for only the moment
She curls within me
Courses through our veins
The unity providing
.

"Where are we?" I hear you say
Speaking with my soul
In yourself ...
I answer "Here"
.

I awoke for awhile
We spoke still in our mind
We never met as our souls departed.
.

Besieged by the doubts of social understanding
Your heart lies
Lost
To fall from so high
The agony of landing
Should we forget the treatment
Closing eyes to ecstasy unbelieved
.

In truth ...
We are only as far as the next dream
In our sleepless nights of ecstasy
Like silent flights, flawed with perfection
The pained erection has no meaning
.

And so from within me look as you did before
Recall the off-shore wind with latent nostalgia
That scent revealing the unremembered
Something learnt
It's not as far as it seemed ...
.

Poets and Priests

There is an argument
One that clowns augment
That considers the idea
Oh, the tears shed this way
That one day
.

The meek will inherit the earth
The birth of an artist will be celebrated for its worth
And holy men will be born
not shorn from some theological college
.

A calibrated plan
Man has always considered their place
Poets and priests unlace their bowls for alms
The charms of these innocents is somehow lost in a bar room foray
Where social security payments support the socialist dream
Licensed Victuallers associations
And an array of Welfare State advertising schemes
.

And all this means constant employment
Without payment
For poets and priests
The very least we could do
Who supports who?
.

In The Maddening Quiet

The silent awe beheld by all at their station showed no sign of easing
Appeasing their god would not be easy in view of their action
The darkening light held fast in the maddening quiet
.

A child gazed upon the still water
Remember, little boy
Remember this moment
This moment can be no more
Torn between the mistakes you have left to make
The flowing rivers all return to this silent, stagnant, lake
.

In the silence of the final night
In the death of that final flight
In the maddening quiet
I wait
.

Gentle Rain

Step by step
The repartee of aspiring tires the soul
Each with his goal before him
A whim of ambition caresses an especial ideal
Good sinners zeal to possess a material dream
All this, it would seem, for the mighty to climb
Ignoring each crime as they go
As though a kiss in a dream at the morning call,
Awakening, ergo
Oh, how far the mighty have to fall!
.

Move by move
Losers prattle their tales of woe
So, to each his own striving
Each trying to reach an unassailable peak
Seeking to breach a chasm of hope
And some expecting to play the ultimate joke
Ignoring the sign
And accepting the crime
Oh, how high the fallen have to climb!
.

Trick by trick
Disciples kick sand in the face of prophets
Who lace their thoughts with charms
No harm meant in words
Content with no meaning
Seeming to have spent a lifetime inventing a people's understanding
Handing each gem with a peach of the time
Attempting to preach some new vision of rhyme
Oh, how noisy the wise have become with time!
.

Drip by drip
Streams slip dreams about the earth
Rain encodes the valley's birth
Surf sings
The shores erode
And tears soften the cruelest load
The master speaks in the quietest tones
The mirth of nature's sculptor
Mountains lost
The rain remains the same
The master whispers
"I shall come as the gentle rain"
.

Artificial Inseminator

Who tinted Toyah's eye's blue?
Who made Souxsie say, "Call me a dyke if you care to?"
Where are the boundaries of the zoo?
.

Is it you who is satisfied as creator
when the artificial inseminator
wiggles his electric finger inside some gorilla's bum?
.

I don't care if the sperm is just a publicity stunt
the punt pole never gets stuck in a real punt
.

The comedian's dance is a chance we all may take
The audience plays for exceedingly high stakes
.

An advertisement makes the dream come true
The same product in a different package
The same you in an alternative zoo
.

And so we may rest assured one day
.

The funeral procession in some marketing cavalcade,
the final box wrapping aided by colored jock-strapping
ensures you possess the best dressed smile
while some religio-theatrical persuasion
condones a "corpse" on this occasion
.

Is there one single "god" behind the media monster
or is it some mass hysteria that insults our intelligence with banal irrelevance?
How many minds exist on their own without the designs of the social clone?
Who is it creeps in at night and colors the eyes of our pop-idol's sight?
.

Blinds the truth
it's hip to be dyke
.

Pulls the strings
but never too tight
.

Who has his shocking finger up your bum
a plastic cup to capture the "cum"?
Where is this bizarre creator
this ... artificial inseminator?
.

Gone Cat

In bombed out
Boring
Bed-sit land
Where the Baracucudas abound
Frankie the fading hipster
Fades away without a sound
Pops off to his personal paradise
In a cosmic cloud of dust and smoke
To the land of milk and honey
Marijuana and Coke
Crazy on the pressure
To be either there or square
Frankie chooses the former
Slips metaphorical flowers
Into his hair
Damp drips from the ceiling
Of his twelve by twelve foot cell
Smashed out of his brains
It's paradise
Straight
It's living hell
"There's only ever been one answer"
Comes Frankie's frail retort
"Oblivion baby, oblivion
It is the last resort."

Cool Cat

High speed introvert with a genital fixation
Clinging to a fallacy
In the throes of cultural constipation
Heroes turn to zeros on the last train out'a town
And a Cool Cat takes a nose dive
With his eyeballs spinning 'round
In the dead of night you'll see him
Weaving his way home
To his funky urban cellar
And he's always alone
A ciggy drooping from his lips
A saxophone in tow
Ask him where he's going man
He'll say, "Hey man! I'm going with the flow."
Topped up on Tequila
Dressed in black from head to toe
He walks in the track of Jack Kerouac
A psychedelic monkey clinging to his back
Bagavad Gita going moldy in his pack
Woke up this morning
Went back to bed
There's blues as well as other things
Floating 'round his head
Just to keep him alive
Just to keep his mouth bubbling
With some old crazy jive
Berry at an angle
Goatee on his chin
You ain't been nowhere baby 'til you've been
In the crowd
Out on a limb
Always primed for action
Go man go!
Where you going Cool Cat?
"Hey man, I'm going with the flow!"

Hep Cat

Rah! Café music slick and slickening.
Cocktail cigarette smoke by the moment,
Thickening.
Wry smiles.
A world of conversation in every change.
Midnight loafers.
Riders of the range.

Clear cut, cut clean, variations on a theme.
Ten seconds outa date,
Wiped off the scene.
Mega metamorphosis, young has been.

Make up, made up, to be where it's at.
Zoot! Smooth!
Sleek as a cat.
Credit card credibility.
Jet lag resistant brains.

Culture shock. Shock on shock.
Taking curved rides on bull-nosed trains,
To exotic destinations,
Writhing in the glow.
Hep cat, feather in his cap.
Cool! A go go!
The music dies but the beat goes on,
And on and on and on and on.

Gone in a Second

There is blood on the hands of a political move
A stain in the ocean for the men who have died
A notion in a moment of national pride
Lives gone in a second with the change of the tide
.

Dogs at the gate howl for blood, on a single button pressed
Away from the eyes of another victim's gun
A pilot's solemn explanation for the death of this Argentine son
"I felt sick but I knew it had to be done."
.

And so a child to be born the very next day
Is amid the prayers of our boys as they drown in the sea
A death to their morals in an Archbishop's hypocrisy
A festival rising for this Churchian folly
.

The teachings of a Church devoid of Christ
Learned by the brain in a media heist
They couldn't cry once but they shouted twice
Excuses for a cheek unturned
.

There is death in the hands of a political move
A strain at the consideration of an Empire's cause that has died
A notion in a moment of national pride
Lives gone in a second with the change of the tide
.

Dear Sis, I Can't Sleep For The Sound Of Your Head Banging.

Dear Sis,

I can't sleep for the sound of your head banging
These walls are too thin in this world of ours
I can't sleep for the powers of castration in your eyes
Honed on the balls of the men you despise
.

Dear Sis, You Wouldn't See A Working-Class Girl Behave Like This.

Dear Sis,
.

You wouldn't see a working-class girl behave like this
Say it with a kiss
Of elegant schooling
Gentle brutality
Compounding reality
In trite words
Of remarkable arrogance
.

The dance of the middle-class lady-class
fighting for a chance
of equal representation in ...
middle-class arts ...
middle-class power struggles ...
working-class beds ...
.

A noble cause no doubt
.

Spoken apparent but they don't need to say
She is the easiest lay for the working-class male
If he's prepared to agree with her arrogant tale
The gory detail of middle-class ass
.

Dear Sis, Only In England Are We This Silly About It.

Dear Sis,
.

Only in England are we this silly about it
The cropped heads and wood-chopper swagger
Of women who have suffered at the hands of men
A handicap made more obvious than physical defect.
.

Here
In public
They display
Corrupted bodies
In pseudo-diffident defiance
Of things to come
.

The physically handicapped
Have much more grace
In such matters
.

Bannerism
At the heart of a subject so poor
Women who would rather slog it out
Toe to toe
Like any good buddy
Than caress the soul
.

Only in England
Does Aphrodite climb from her adoration
To spit in the eye of man
.

Dear Sis, Tar Can (For Sylvia Kantaris)

Her, "Darling, but I know better than you," soliloquy
Demonstrates
I have no doubt
The advantage of a University Education.
Inspiration taught by twentieth century poetry
At the hands of...
.

Her, "Darling, but I know better than you," soliloquy
Qualifies her to cast forgiveness upon a contemporary's dismissive manner
Forgiven with the wave of a hand
And an "I'm a published Poet" smile
While it is quite obvious contempt
That meant ...
.

Her, "Darling, but I know better than you," soliloquy
And an understanding of continental surrealist poetry
Gave emphasis to her membership of
Elite-Cornish-Subdivision-Poetry Mafioso
The badge of which is ...
.

Her "Darling, but I know better than you." soliloquy
.

Prostitute

They don't give a hoot for the prostitute
Somebody to suit every need
Another body to loot with every greed
A cut and dried thrust in the lust of the moment
A pavement companion on a cold and empty night
A motor car delight as he shows her the big one
"I can't take that tonight!"
As she shows it to her friend
"I've heard tell about this one."
The girl says demurely
But to the plea in his eyes they are shaking their heads
.

Yet one can accommodate a compromise on the offer of a fiver
A wrist and a hanky borrowed from her friend
Too late for her to worry if her son sleeps securely
In a bed bought and paid for by the work of the day
Too late to say "I'm sorry"
From a town the boy has never heard of or a city far away
The price to pay for liberation in the nineteen sixties
And the tricks they never taught a generation
.

Her own mother smiles at the compensation
Her loving daughter has paid her
- A new microwave oven -
Courtesy of the many men who laid her only child
And smiled the last time they thought of her
They never saw her as someone else's daughter
.

Someone else's daughter lights the lamps tonight
Someone else's daughter battens her tale down tight
A story never told in her old age
A private illustration of man's rage
A page of her history for a husband to conceal
A page of her history only magistrates can reveal
A collage of memories that no longer seem real
A barrage of faces giving sex, appeal
.

New Bond Street

So chic
So expensive
and neat
So New Bond Street
.

So Cambridge scarfed
So daft
So Oxford Street
So tongue tied
So Old School Tie.
So, Tiffany is here
So what?
So Cartier open later
10 am
They can
I imagine
afford to lie in
.

The street corner
telephone box
contains cards
from French girls
who offer
every
kind of service.
New model from Paris
Just for pleasure
Near by
Local
Add a continental flavor to your life!
In
luxurious
French
atmosphere
.

So chic
So expensive
and neat
So New Bond Street
.

The Touch of Skin

Morning essence and shimmering pathways
Light the road to that existence
The realm where all is complete
The orchard of both beginning and end
Here, as we touch on occasion,
And glimpse the fruit of tomorrow
The yearning rests unknowing
Fulfilling that potential
.

It is not that passion for life can never be fulfilled
And nor that total love cannot be realized.
Yet I would not try to reach it
For fear that in the grasping it would disappear
It will find us in the end of its own accord
By some word, some glance, some smile
In the meanwhile let our caresses be the joy of that mystery
The touch of skin
.

I will not gratify you in some moment of weakness
Nor will I shame you in your desire
Too precious is that moment of consummation
Too complete is its value
Let our passion be as the love of gods
Pure and untold virtue of the universe
I will not satisfy you in the fire of a moment
But in the light of years
.