There is such noise

there is such noise in the world

and much silence 

inside those lonely minds

hush

say it’s alright 

i see what she sees

hear what he hears

say what they say

but sometimes, often,

there’s no need

anyway.

Homo sapien’s last gasp

This is homo sapien’s last gasp

Upfront it leads the pack

Doesn’t care for

These new identities

All this adaptability

Homo sapien doesn’t

Recognise change

Or its own evolution

It’s lost and afraid

Grasps on to its status rock. 

Lashes out

Rattles

Its own offspring

God knows

This is no revolution

This is homo sapien’s exit

A thousand generations crash

Into their own past

Witness the birth

Of its children’s child

Defined by its survival

And its parents’ inability

To recognise

We’re two different species

Fear and hope

Walking upright, forwards

Along this tightrope.

Rose garden

This rose garden is an aberration of nature,

So much beauty for one acre,

But there are spaces where we come and go and make repair.

Some people fear revolution,

They forget or never felt the hunger that came before,

Here we remember what blooms when everything’s blunt and bare.

Silence is political

Silent mass

Inside heads is agony

Why are they

So discontented. 

So loud and angry.

And making the quietly

Contented feel something

Anything.  Writhing

Inside heads

Must be agony.  The listening

Rapid defence silent anger.

What’s a poem?

Reaching out from itself it sits square

In the brisk dusk of a bus station

Waiting for a number 44 or a 45.

http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/44.html

http://www.shakespeares-sonnets.com/sonnet/45

Memory

I keep remembering like an elephant

Outside its stomping ground

Watching the lovers reminisce

Wondering why they feel connections

Drift

Until even they disappear and all that’s

Left.

one moment

rung through the windgap

trees airchime loud as ear held seashell

even after the tide raged

The Demise of the English Language: from Geoffrey Chaucer to Donald Trump

Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote,
The drochte of March hath perced to the roote,
I’m gonna grab her pussy
Cos she’s a piece of ass.

To a romantic

We see, we see as he hails a strange bird

In joyful abandon, we hear every word

From broad, distant sphere she falls ever nearer

And into the soul of this brave poet seer

We hear his heart pound as she falls to the ground

And swims in the fountain of kisses and sound

Caught in this moment of bliss and beyond

We hear his sweet Skylark, we hear her sweet song.  

Another sphere

Summer straddles years

Old Winter dies inside

Spring brings in the carolers

Fall’s leaves drop and rise.
Words war on the plains above

Mute as dots on snow

Translated not for earthly love

But strange and distant show.