Category Archives: poetry

space cow

a frosty romance
a night time dance
one of us is human
the other a mask

crying tears of blood
speaking words of flesh
a lover from the flood
a pearl born in the sea

eating rusty children
spitting out flaming pips
quantum time is leaping past
the word puckers her lips

now would you nuke your Mamma
you know how she hates the cold
just you watch your grammar
your muscles are my hold

you breath my pelvic thrusts
you sleep within my darkness
I’ll eat you if I must
and pass you in my waters

my poor old nipples are glowing
you kick me in disgust
I’m teeming with life and meaning
astronomers dismiss me as fat

I’ve slept with famous poets
posed for painters nude
I’ve got It and I show It
I’m blamed for being a prude

I am your sewerage system
the machinery of your dreams
your life is a living stem
my magic makes things seem

I am a boat in a harbour
I am the consuming storm
I am the tree –  the door
the clothes your spirit forms

knitting jungles and forests
a veil to bring me warmth
the body of the flower
the womb of the source

so shape me — break me
I’m as wet as raw clay
I emerge as a spiders web.
as dew crystallizes the day

words are cut away now
the snake has shot down his hole
we’re left with a pantomime cow
which Jack has foolishly sold.


Proud Mary

Why can’t energy be spent
In other ways than in killing?
Mary, your Mother doesnt have to
Do this type of thing for a living.

She’d rather he doing the can-can
For some exotic man from the east
Or trembling a delicate fan
While others froth like yeast.

She’d rather be a china teapot
On a provincial Parsons shelf,
As an antique worth quite alot
But loved for beauty, not wealth.

She’d rather be a boy scout
On an outing in a cave
Or a well loved singing trout
Who drunk herself to the grave.

She’d rather be a tarantula
On the look out for a lover
Or a dolly named Petula,
Whose body is made of rubber.

She’d rather be a volcano
Whose gossip is scalding hot
Or be as pretty as a marigold
Being pissed on by a fox.

So, Mary, put your knickers on!
There’s no tea for you tonight.
Your Mother’s not a martyr,
So please don’t set her alight.

Its not that I’m narrow minded
Lawd, gawd blimey, No!
But I’ve seen saints be blinded
For putting their feelings on show.

And count your natural disasters!
It started getting out of bed.
I once was friends with a spider
Who lived in a room in my head.

The world is your discovery.
You’ve been told its rude to stare,
Modest and reactionary
It’s ruder still to care.

And justify your existence
By claiming you don’t exist.
Substance is such a nuisance,
Especially when you’re pissed.

Your Mother expects the worst,
Your Mother’s an optimist.
She curtsies to passing hursts,
Very rarely she hisses.

Your Mother’s baked cup cakes
Are the terrorists delight.
To vent frustration and hate,
She talks a load of tripe.

Mary, your Mother is shocked!
The joy that she’s suffered for you!
If you were a priest, she’d have you defrocked.
Your Mother lies like the truth.

So exorcise the Devil, 
We don’t want his type here. 
Mary, stop your screaming, 
You’re green and shaking in fear.

So count your natural feelings,
There’s need and jealousy and pride.
Mary, your breath is reeking
Like something inside you has died.

My stare is strawberry jelly, 
It’s all a party, all fun! 
Me and my monstrous belly, 
Not to mention my bum.

I’ll fly like a drunken butterfly
And die in someone’s collection.
Is that a splint that glints in your eye?
Don’t touch for fear of infection.

So, Mary, put your knickers on
And bugger off to bed
Your Mother doesn’t know where she went wrong,
She’s locked herself in the shed.

She’s got a feeling this is the end.

Not because you’re horny
Not because you’re mean
Not because your Mother thinks
You’re the Fairy Queen.


Abide with me

Abide with me
As I’m lowered in my grave,
As the door is slammed closed,
And the shiver through my back
Freezes me.

And my hands cannot reach,
My mouth cannot speak,
Though my eyes would see,
But the darkness.

And you whisper
Wordless words
And fly like preserved birds,
Caught in frames of action,
But still.

I’m the oil
In your machinery,
A particle of your scenery,
Speaking words of oil.
A lubricant.

The dream may never die,
But the dreamer’s run dry.
When I don’t understand
Abide with me.

And you cross your lips
Sip your tea,
With one eye
Look at me
And talk..
Though your words
Flow right through.

If I had a gun
I might shoot you,
Instead I’ll conform
Assemble monsters
And hate you.
Abide with me.

Though your ghosts
Will abide with me
In my despair,
My boredom I see,
With you,
Or without you
I’m alone…

Abide with me.