Live Your Life (cha)

Life is an amazing entity

While its purpose is to give it purpose

it's what you make it

Grab it; because some-one's gotta have it

And if it's passing you by, then pick up the pace

Though low lives on the high life tend to dominate the fast lane

having the ’ride of their life’

So life sucks

It turns you from juicy ripe red plum to prune grey

But life’s a great fat nipple-in waiting full of ambrosia

hovering like a pregnant whirlwind

Suck back

Better you dive in and guzzle as long as you live

cause you're a long time breast-less

Get your laughing gear around that

instead of spending your life preparing for life

A garden is a series of losses set against a few triumphs;

that's real life. Ya gotta love it

and dying; so erotic

Confront it. and get a life

When it's over we can review what we’d spent it on

Whether we read our religions in our words or our lives

To choose life is to choose me as I choose to be free

No idea when it'll end or how

only how I’ll live, right now

Yesterday’s dreams then, are good ones; joyful

Tomorrow’s a vision o’ keeping the boy full

Because life goes on as so it must

Dutiful bread of existences crust

While bread and lilies are the be and end

life is a box of chocolates

Rogue sweeteners erode pearly whites

It’s a bed of roses, picture perfect in a frame of thorn stems

A classic worth singing from a 'A' minor to 'G' major

with six billion voice choir and flute

over the steady drum soldiering on;

loyal as privates crossing a Somme

The essence of it

To explore life as though each day was your last

as how you spend your days is how you live your life

You get just one and you know it

though fore-armed with wisdom we're still dumb enough to blow it

since no other bitch is so intimate

that if all fails you can fuck it

C'est la vie

In any case ; you'll not get out alive

Breathe

You are but a blade of grass in the greenest field

exalt yourself for the harvest yield

You see

Farmer sows and reaps

He burns dry souls , but good ones he heaps

that reached skyward and now

lay fluffy as the sheep they fled

The others fell to parasites that bit them as they bled

A dance

Would he be a good father ?

Does he have the kind of features

I would like in a child ?

She decided that in life this would not be the man

for a dance though she rose

and he held out his hand

She lived and let life

sometimes hummed in the dark

wrote songs when alone in the office

in the park

to her confidant of eco green hemp pages

kisseed by dried tulip

Her body and mind

the temple and shrine

treated oft to a chick flick

chocolate, some wine

Her four walls partitioned

in aesthetic chaos

Dust settles on Bhudda

faces chimes

attached to strut

in from the raw

Redundant window frames

fall to naked wall

Left pastel

right postered

in film festival

Her dreams were waves that chopped

spitting wash

Faces spoke through panes of muting bubbles

rising under the hulls of boats

that jostled friends

and strangers of the month

Wrecks cried ever faintly from the bed

canoeing on blue moons

like true romance

Her passed love

a silhouette in the midst of of lightning

long since camouflaged by bohemian hobbies

A rip

released to tide

And she saw not more

than when eyes were closed

Who now, in the kind light

of evening halogen

pink and orange shades

would wade through the wash

into the cocoon of girlhood's

lathered preservance

but one bold in charisma

Coral sponge cheeks betraying one accomadating

with wide secretless eyes

that loved laughter

spun in the fabric of dreams

But for just a dance

on a merry night

she held his hand

Doors

......and then at the funeral

they all met

And they felt a one-ness

That no-body else felt

And they remembered what it was to love

Where everything else was secondary

When there were no doors

And they'd giggled together

And frolicked and bathed

And snuggled

And the air was engulfed with telepathy

and only there could they taste the power that once warmed tham

Gave them life

2003 adjustment

when i came back all my peeps had been living and dying

warring and procreating

I saw years of pent up tears

and broken screens of weathered teeth

Growing pains dissolved into ethanol

Grids of organically spun families

congealed with registered bosoms of the fold

anaesthetic to mammals' primal screams

Fertilities polluted by havocs of reality

Willow postured men, brow beaten by modern politic

Swordless warriors

brought to civil war in 'her' domain

Fractured doors of densities I'd never chosen to acknowledge

filter secrets of covert flirtations with Diablo

plucking away at strands

Crying youth oozing

through cracks of skin drying from concrete compounds

hovering before it disappears

Mute Aikido

the poet has the stealth of fox

strolling to the beat of urbanite sleep

the bluest cantrel of candle flame

Molecules writhing in oblique hurricanes against impartiality

Its monarch is flowing water.

that gave cause to the moon and vanity to the sky

Its the blinded messenger galloping across plains shouting “It’s great to be alive”

like a strong afternoon in the silence of Bhudda

It chews fat with heroes and heretics

that chaperone your spirits

and tumours the spleen of the beast

whose aura is the stench of trans atlantic slavery

It is imbued with eternal youth

nauseas among oceans of people seeking salvation and cradles their seventy year slot

only to be eluded, like boats without islands

Their wingless questions criss-crossing solar waves hoping for destinations;

beyond the cosmos of our atoms

I envy the animal within that understands itself

It knows why it wants to howl and to fuck and to eat

in awe of the orb sweet yellow angel

that screams in ultra violet pitch through her hydrogen halo

Yet never does the intellect leave home without their goldfish bowl

That ‘A’ list celeb in the mirror

That inescapable escape in the apparent absence of god

It’s the wallpaper of ghosts that are mistreated

Such scaffolds of fragility are we

Such design features

Maybe I should get out of the boundaries of flesh and blood

And just get on with it

Cause sometimes I feel like energy that will never die

Nor stopped by matter when I fly

From karnak lectures

listening rewards me music

To this I succumb with pleasure

Where I might find heaven

I digest social contracts, being a vessel for temperament

as a particle of mass like a speck of beach ball dust

A cancerous spec of B grade species and evolved primate

From micro organic amphibians to paragons of evolution
to nicotine sucking by-products of our own food chain

Defined by data, immersed in illusion

Never;

does one leave home without their image

Even though everything changes

Except the speed of light

On nights when there is compulsion to breathe

I drive along the radial co-ordinates of my celestial Taurus

veering me down any road where there is no traffic

And breathe

And wonder

in stillness plagued with thought

vaguely anticipating connection

What temptation there is to love?

when hate is so much more compatible

But I know that the best artists have clay feet

and there’s no euphoria like running through fallen leaves

MY MELANIN

My Melanin

My melanin is my jacket

My castle, my being

The words and the bracket

All exposed and unseen

My melanin makes police shake

And republic states quake like jumping beans on still lava

Because my melanin won’t break like porcelain plate

Or sign the dotted line

My pigmentation skates alongside parallel ultra neon lanes

of lip-gloss excreted by wine bar floozies

licking strawberries dipped in my image.

My melanin was the in thing since before a thing was in

so everybody tries to speculate; scientifically pontificate

Everybody want to gyrate ‘n do the “watoosi”

But they don’t have the fluid

So they just emulate;

like clowns impersonating iron statues.

My melanin;

Scholarship of spirit

clicking heels when there’s no place like the home inside

where the sun takes time climbing my spine

weaving her

honey- malt fingers to flavour me

decorating these fortified corpuscles

accentuating her essence

My; seventy-four thousand years receding African sap,

Ebbs hues of five per centers to ginger freckles

and silver salt albino babies,

glistening as indigo oil on silt

My sun kisses my regenerating Nubian cell

My “do not touch” silverware

Revolution’s godfather

Dense translucent painter of my consciousness

My soluble melanin

Oozes blues with je nais se quois

We rock; yes

We roll with the rhythms of strife

like sub mariners on blue whales

Gene pool of mankind; my melanin,

fathered the angels before he uncloaked his dagger

and plummeted through eons of bitter cosmos,

flaying all his golden membranes through g forces and

crashed on a restless disquiet of polar ice-caps, Caspian and red sea

The Antithesis of the science of mammals.

Women scalping, dog fucking, Nordic savage, bearing Lucifer’s light through the rolling thunders of Caucus Mountains

So the sun scampers across the long winter skies of

The tribes of Canaan

Synthesised by-products

of my melanin and shit weather

When dead men walking ;

WHEN DEAD MEN WALKING !!

my melanin survived societies desecrated with bludgeoned foetuses and emasculated men

and orphans whose melanin seeped the sun’s only uncontrollable tears

and marinated the soil

like lanced haemoglobin cherries on champagne

But my sovereign melanin,

Towing molten tangerine- yellow hells

soars in rainbows and plasmic orgasms of laughter

because

my ripest micro-cosmic melanin

done skied inter planetary fibre optic a-z’s

like local children on skate boards using twenty-three story buildings

as pencil nibs to sketch Taurus

Eons later Europeans began to join the dots

My melanin, my genesis of music

permeates anti matter in exo skeletal grid of this hexagonal globe sphere

Illuminating eulogies of spirits that will not sleep

because my melanin will never stop defying anxieties,

denying adversities in the face of the wholly faceless

in the front yard of illuminate

However hypnotic the sky channel stereohype kidnaps pride

spinning pharaoh’s descendants of Abraham

in diluted menus of social destruction

However many ghettio bullets without serial numbers

or cinematic drama of another brown alfresco body spattered in pigeon shit status

and poor renegades

get ambushed at retrosexual exits

of black holes that whistle by like buses on rural timetables;

so my melanin pours from anarchised cups down your throats

... plucking cultural acids in savoir faire frequency

ahead of government health warnings

like gate keeping angels with full scabbards

as night’s ambient rivers lend art to city lights

---

Daydream

Thought of you today

as some-one I almost knew

though sensing confidently

the things that we could do

touching the air that we could share

imagining how tender we might be

how much we wouldn't when we wouldn't

How relaxed we might be

How much you'd turn to me

How half our days would end

Being grateful that we were friends

Thanking fate that we had met

smiling

too melancholy to forget

That the first time I made a pass at you

I was already too far in to hear

"I have a boyfriend"

Funny thing

Funny how you can be yourself

in some-one else's dream

WRiTING

Nothing so heightens the senses

while relaxing the body

stimulating the mind

whilst tranquilising the brain to slumber

Nothing is so spontaneous yet contrived

Is as meticulously constructing

and de-constructing

Is as reliable yet unpredictable

Gives such satisfaction yet is as possessing

Is as everlasting. Craves so another hit

Demands so much, while asking for nothing

Nothing takes so from life

and gives life to fantasy

Creates illusion in the illustration of of truth

is so time consuming though instant

so abstract , while graphic

so crude, graceful

Taxes so, and soothes, replenishing

Displays the soul as veiled as I please

Is as transient as the mobility of its workshop

Costs the sheer devotion of its moment, and the use of a pen

It's enough to make you lean back and laugh to the sky

mmm.....Edible

You are delicious

scrumptious and yummy

all of the things I'd want for my tummy

For wanton sex I'd serve

you with parsley and orderves

A Day

When at first for my sins

my day begins

I rise with my sun where life stems from

From then on I'm on the move

to survive and improve

I interconnect, supply, collect

inspire, reject

for the hive and my nest

And then for whatever I'll seek my pleasure

indulged in the vice of the cats and the mice

and bear grudges on those

who maliciously impose

in the sphere

for we are vampires who

parasite to exceed without thought to virtue

Now discipline

being culture's wife

does guide the hand that steers my life

My skin is embroiled

with the years that I've toiled

with my body and mind

and the decadent times

At night I accept that I'd loved and feared

give thanks to the spirit

my health was spared

I pray then

an unspoken prayer

Tomorrow I should take such care

No Goodbyes

Goodbyes are like comma's in time's paragraph

They resonate like ripples on the water

Where they duly make an appearance

Besides....

they're far too heavy

Cheers for the laughter

WALKER

No-body knows your name because you walk in whispers

Gaze elusive as tomorrow

If I had a magic wand

I'd tag along

Whenever I see you

I notice you

Therein is your appeal

Polished:

As though you'd just been stamped on the production belt

and stepped out the factory's back door

gob smacking the night watchman

Charming the guard hounds

to a fire-place of sleep

We've loved each other

sometimes in my mind.

We've soared oceans of cluttered indifference.

I'm your dude

like comfort food

often in the wings

during interludes

Your preserving angel

Knightly I clutch my lady's favour

I carved a picture of you with my pen

describing your solitary other worldliness

from behind the outer lining

for no-body heard the music

that toured the galleries of your mind

or were they fields

where childhood swirled

to echoes of ghosted song

Does your faultless devotion shine

in a jewellery box

guarded by cuddly toys

In the quiet pale

strides you

like the grieving lion queen

eclipsing the silence ofgardens

and a gate keeper trembles

as again

you blend into horizon's vacuum

of charcoal whistles

and arrogant heavens

hell and hubris skies

as through the blue you came

If I had a magic wand

I'd tag along

HONOURARY

The scholars of mankind parade their pride today

Amidst crescendo of wind and earthly drum

Feet marching to the beat of hearts

Tempered by the guardian

shone through cloaked gown, squared crown

Relatives roared; aplauded

Workers gawped in appraisal dressed envy

the pageantry passaging a covertly stolen moment

to dream in self reflection

Drifters were bored

(streets were simply less empty )

and this might be an opportunity

to cajole a few pennies

but this day's not to fly the mast of the poor

and this regiment are not to open but to kick down doors

senate seats of our elders

patent equqtions

In ratio of weight

will re-generate

stimulating status quo

Some may merely have trained cells

Discovered an inner revolutionary

Exonerated prodding choices

covenanted with voices

Tomorrow, from this peak

some will ungracefully tumble

down the economic waterfall

and float on taxes

where rats race,

in the aftermath of belle-lettres

Work's Work

We've all been there

Alive

but not really

In a nine to five

Dreary

Aware that the boss enthuses 'Fear me'

Nothing to say

No opinions

Thinking 'Who'd hear me'

So "Hello Sir, can I take your order?

A bag ?

A drink with that ?

A porter ?

Wipe your shoes ?

Lick your ass ?

Stab my eyes out

Throw my guts to the piranha

And sir......

I wish you a VERY GOOD DAY"

AFTER WORK

How many dollars

for how many frolics

I'll admit to being bad

you belt me in the bollocks

In a back room in Kings Cross

I've got the money

so we can both be the boss

Touching

Sunday morning

Tenting under

fairy light sheets

that flattered

and incubated our affections

The earth paled

beyond honeybed words

hummed

under venetian shadows

highlighting the art of our nakedness

geometrically scoring

the fractal rhythm of skins

that breathed together

like drops of water

sharing ripples

You

toying with these

hands

that trekked the landscape of you

Softly

You began sliding away

toward unchaste chasms

of a clasping noon

I splayed my palm

along your twinkling sands

You danced a silken pirouette

carelessly

back into my spoon

US

I used to wear make up

but you are my make up

and I wake up made up

CROWN

this weather this sheath of fears infects with caustic cold; blood feather snow flakes parachute in muffling sound Mammals armour clad in excess hide scatter like spit to cringe foetidly under such reserve bosoms, as metal radiators; The bitch sieges lays in unabashed nakedness pure, bitter love Her vainglorious skin chokes larynxes of pipes in quietus Gores cartilage and marrow Raw greed finds nooks and cunning virus glacis pores of concrete constricting windscreens And all the furry fellas run and go sleep cause she’ll leave nothing to eat Rain acquiesces on purple -black dawns of a mother-less insomnia Gothic eves as though she relegated the sun and commandeers the air that snatches tell-tale clouds of our breath (How lucky the moon that she's bathed in milk) And yet, nothing dampens your warmth for a white Christmas as though we’ll all go out to meet her when she comes and does her sums… …….it’s train, like Flaming June , anointing the hills because she'll be driving six white horses and the very hooves of Neptune’s stallions splay sonic wash over commons hallowed with blades of brittle grass trembling in perspex cradles suspended in stalactite pyjamas And lonesome trees weep through naked wrinkles diamonds of dew that shimmer like crystals sprinkled on her regal gown proclaiming her blossom