The way it is

There is no before and no after
There is only now
The rules that get us from here to there
The how
.

And in there somewhere
Is you
And is I
The feeling
The being
The sign
And the sigh
.

Conversations with Mary. When, In love, I fall.

And
I'm sorry
So
Sorry
That when
In love
I fall
Into the
Arms of
God
And
You
Are
There
The nights
Short
The days
Long
And
The heart
In total
Complete
And
By that
And
I
Mean
The
Whole
And
It grows
So much
Bigger
But
More
Inadequate
And
The passion
For all those
Clerics
Teams of Chaplins
Rabbis
And
Priests
Of strangers
Men in
White
Coats
Dancing
In circles
In the
Company of
Midwest
Seminarian
Monsters
That would
Pray for me
And Mary
God's mother
As we
Love
The slow
Penetration
Parting her
Lips
Those
Soft
Damp
Folds of
Skin
Speaking
In prayer
In circles
She prays
With her tongue
Brother
And
I fall
Looking into
Her
Eyes
.

For Terry

Oh man
I'm hungry
I could eat
a horse
a cheese burger
on rye
fries
dripping
with oil
soil
the open earth
accept my
deep
hunger
while
I remember
that
quiet evening
for two
me and you
dinner by
the light
of candles
I wore
sandals
and you
looked
so cool
in your
neat shirt
and tie
you swore
your
love
for me
for only
me
and you
promised
it would not
hurt
my
daddy
loves me
too
he wants me
to live
like you
how can
you
let me
die
when
it
is
my
daddy's
heart
that
cries?
.

This Bridge

Sitting here upon this bridge
In the dead of night
The street lamp turns on
One minute in every five
And I am startled in each turn
For all the lessons I may have learned
From this
.

Are these words that appear to me to be hung
In the annals of human history
Wrung from the aspirations of
My ancestory
In the future of children told
Of what little I have achieved
.

In these moments of darkness I compose
Well formed sentences that hold
The bold autoaesthetic
The sense of self in the world
The sobbing child curled upon
Soft white linen
.

Words wrung from the torments
Of our mother
Words stung from the unbalanced minds
Of possessive lovers
Words lunge at the passing suggestive whisper
Of love
Words greed and fill the empty needs
Of love
.

Words that last until the last
Tywarnhayle darkness
Are washed away on the whim of
Saint Piran's porth
And I sit and wait
For that light again
So that I may scribble what little
I may achieve
In those rare moments
.

Sitting here upon this bridge
In the dead of night
The street lamp turns on
One minute in every five
And I am startled in each turn
For all the lessons I may have learned
From this
.

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
.

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
.

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"
.

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
.

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
.

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.

Memories of Zen

There are so many things that I remember
The closeness of him
Each moment we have had together
Is carved like deep scars in my flesh
Each drop of blood remembered
In that red cascade of moments
Fallen, precious on the floor of time
And there is no aid that I can find
To gather those moments of mine
.

As you walk upon the beach in Galway
And leave uncertain moments on the road from Dublin
As you
My son
Walk the paths of Europe to find whatever lies there
A prayer I leave
That somewhere on that road
You will encounter men wiser than me
Lost in some part of history
But able to bring something forth
Of the great mystery
.

Tears burst from me
And I am screaming from my passion
My despair
.

I have left nothing on the path before you
But a few solitary moments of enlightenment
Held in donuts
I fed you as a child
.

I was
Your mother
Your father
Your lover
And your king
.

But there is nothing now but the memories.
And I am fallen before you
Unworthy of your love
.

There is nothing
I am fallen in the pain
Of how I have served you
And I can never be released
From these bonds of fatherhood
.

I would release you
I will release you
From these chains
If I can
Standing
And accepting
.

And if I cannot do the job that is needed
In releasing you
Then you must release yourself
And take my life to your children.
.

For everything that I wished to give
Hangs loose from me now
In its sad delusion
.

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
.

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
.

My Overindulgence Is Redheads

My single overindulgence is redheads
Man, I'll do anything for a flash of that gentle smile
That style and freckle
That turned head in the sun in ecstacy
That blaze of rum
And golden hazel eyes
That curvature that reaches every part of her
My hands are made to fit every single bit of it
Snug and prefect
Overwhealmed by it
Above, below or behind
.

Celestial Child

They danced in the light
of the bright new mornings
even in the darkest days
.

As each year passes
they dream of things
their father shall never live to grasp
.

Brothers and sisters
each moment of the day to day wandering
is left with single jewels of happiness
soft sadness humbles each of us
in unimportant things
.

Though she sings while others cry
.

Even as a father works
in silent images
children pause each moment
of that wandering
.

Celestial child
fragile
dependent
wild bright eyes of the stars
.

She cries while others sing
.

There is nothing a father has
that cannot be given
.

There is no shy place
to hide away from the memories
the essence
the beauty
.

You are your father's meaning
the whole reason for being
there is nothing else
.

Jongen en Meisje

Bonded in every strawberry blonde
In sensitive and gentle song
She rides on the cliff of ecstasy
And is ash laden on the end of me
.

No woman in all humanity
Has been loved as much as she
Not even those who Helen see
Have loved one so dearly
.

Nor has there been a passion felt
Before which a man has knelt
For which his pants are belt
And yet for which a tear is dealt
.

Her presence alone brings such care
In each and every worldly stare
There is in each moment there
That which oceans still in quiet waves
.

In fear I am held in tragic sway
Each second of every day
There is that these Norse gods will dwell
And come to claim that which they left so carelessly
To wander earth with one such as me
.

Her hands and lips upon the staff of me
Seems not course, nor rude, nor plain
She daughter of those gods I fear
Is right and natural mistress here
.

I am healed by the mere thought of it
To know that this a woman can be
That none before, not mother, not lover, not wife
Has given or ever shown to me
.

No hint of that gentle care
No tease of that special air
That awakens when in morn she rises
And the attention of the gods is plain
And I watch for fear they came
.

Broken Hearts

Daughters break the hearts of fathers
it's the natural order
.

My heart is broken each day I read the news
I don't read the news too often
innocents dying
.

I broke the heart of my cat once
garage locked
we break hearts by the most trivial of things
innocents crying
.

I have not broken your heart
but I will if you let me
on riverside and under trees
in the gentle rain
again a lover's heart will fall
.

Broken hearts are so perfect and
full of beauty
.

Heraclitan River

Each step I take
In this clear water
Is no step that can be made again
By father or by son
In metaphor and clean air
We walk in the Heraclitan river
Pacific manifest on Carmelian shore
We drag our toes through wet sand
To mark the way
Ahead
.

I Died On The Last Breath Of Her

I died on the last breath of her
Fallen and shaped like a sack of old cloth
On the ground beneath the stolen moments of our love
Her majesty gone
She was my innocence
.

I cried on the last yawning gape of time
Held to the ground by the weight of old sack cloth
In the hand of my forefathers' stolen dreams
Their majesty gone
Here is my open wound of childhood
.

Some snide bastard quite the game ahead of me
And dragged with them the sullen opportunity
I wanted to chase after it
Its majesty
But soft contrasts hard fell on open ground
.

Watford what do you have left of me?
That Caratacus Green where England hides the likes of me
Beaten to the ground by fellows laughing from wet pavement
The Victoria School
Where boys are made into their image of working-class lout and scum
.

I died on the last breath of her
There in the mud, a fallen sack of cloth
Boot and thunder in my sides
Our last moments of love
She was my innocence
.

Vapor From Your Skin

I want to be nothing
Unknown and unhurt
A whisp
A skirt
Vapor from your skin
An undisclosed sin
Camoflaged
Hidden from sight
A burn on your thigh
A sigh
The unnoticed tear
The unspoken fear
To walk past you untouched
Because I loved you so much
.

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
.

Conversations with Mary (II)

Naked white virgin mother of Christ appears in my dreams and
she prosecutes my soul with her appeals for release
.

Her screams awaken me in the darkness of the night and
I am surrounded by her bliss in the midst of the fight
.

I sweat the tears of angels that weep for her plight
I break the hearts of children stolen on that first night
.

I set myself in prayer as her glory fills the room and
she tells me of the children and
how she must ensure their doom
.

Her hand upon my head she pulls me to my feet and
I am held aloft in prayer before her bleeding eyes
.

The naked scars glare red and sore
The pain I feel from her once more
Burns tenderly across my skin
.

I am deaf
I can hear nothing
.

The silence ignores the slap of me against her skin
as she holds me to her
Yet I do not feel the touch of her and
I can see she does not feel the touch of me
by the scream that is in her eyes
.

She is again denied and
I awaken from the silence of my wet dream
weeping
.

The seed sticky upon my belly
Between my finger tips
I bring my fingers to my lips
To taste the moment
And in a sudden vacuum of silence it is stolen
.

I break the hearts of children stolen on that first night
I sweat the tears of angels that weep for her plight
.

Conversations with Mary (I)

She appears from nowhere
Naked white virgin mother of Christ
Nipples pierced, torn and bleeding
Blood streaming at the first light
And guided in the caress of tiny hairs
Rivulets cross the soft contrast of her skin
Finally gushing red from within her open thighs
A torrent of pleasure and lies
.

In that first light
I am erect
Swollen taut
Breathless
Caught
.

I claw at each moment
And careful commit
To careful memory
That caress
That scent
That taste
That sound
That sight that I see
Afraid that I may lose the mystery
.

She presses her flesh to me
And I am bloodied
Stained with her mystery
She whispers her calamity
In that cool bright light
In that morning light
In my conversations with Mary
.

In that deep dark blue
Of her eyes
The heavens have fallen
On this earth
She whispers her calamity
In the cool bright light
Of that morning
.

Her lips brush tenderness against my ear
I am lost and I am fallen
At the moment of her touch
And the shock of her tale
.

Mary comes from the Mediterranean shore
Where, she confesses, she has taken the manhood of her son
And in some divine incestuous draft
Has consumed his salty seed
And she has swallowed
She has swallowed
.

Her lips part at the sensuous memory
She clutches at me
She rubs the raw and bleeding quick of her against my thigh
In slow sighs and certain passion
She brings herself to the point of ecstasy
.

I am helpless
Raped, frozen and petrified
In the deep dark blue
Of her eyes
.

She is enraptured, tortured and tense
Condemned now to await the bursting storm
And driven to madness by it
She must wait that moment forever
The penalty of her pornography
And she whispers to me
Her calamity
"I am a Jewess," she whispers
"Condemned by the Romans"
"To wander this earth as a Goddess."
.

Possessed in her urgency
She whispers of the texture of his skin against her lips
Of the rise in each draft as she brought his seed into this world
In a soft and smooth song of beauty, of peace and of grace
.

In that first light
I am erect
Swollen taut
Breathless
Caught
.

And there
With her final gesture of rape
I am abandoned
I am left standing in despair
My seed upon the floor
.

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
.