Rehearsal

Same routine,
up at 5;
forgives himself
for last night’s
misdemeanors.

After all,
it’s only words!
Breakfast mind
plots away

and then comes back
to coffee and a roll.
Through a glass, he sweeps

a gaze at folly – every being
and himself - and feels

a sudden thud of peace.

Handshake

A man who works with his hands
lowers eyes.
Filthy palms and fingers!

He picks a bar of dirty soap,
vigorously rubbing hands and soap
into a stream of impure water,
freshens up his hands;
shakes them, dries them on
a grubby towel:
takes the biggest breath
he ever took to clean his heart

and now he offers hands and heart
as pure as he can make them.
Will you take them?

Wenceslas

King Andrew sits upon his camping chair,
gazes round a breakfast circle; cooking
on a campsite, frying sausages;
eggs are cracked and smells of coffee

snake along a breeze to rise and enter
into now. Everything is set for feasting
and a sunny time’s on hand;
morning’s up and a King surveys his land!

But wait - what is this quality called King?
Why do people rush to cook him breakfast?
Why do people serve a man, this elf?

At once a warm and gracious King
adores his people more than judges;
loves them for themselves.

God's Gift

It’s for me alone
when I step in the shower;
water hot and sharp.

2 faces of love

I tossed a coin.
It landed face-up saying ‘Do it!’,
continued spinning like the sun.
I guess it would have turned
around forever if I hadn’t
grabbed it, stopped it,
tossed again.

It landed on ‘humility’,
melted,
flowed across the wooden
man-made table top
as if a gob of treacle,
sweet. I gathered up the syrup and
I tossed a coin.

Anger from the Downs'

You’re not well, daddy, brain is sick;
your big mind lays – will lay – to
waste all richness and delight.
I glance and gaze – and shall we touch?

You daren’t! I could call forth a tear,
a growl or little spit. In mind
you curl your fungus tongue and choke
me up in stuff. Strive to beat me.

Slow, alone, you’ll soon be bored. Kill
me off as odd or stranger, mongol,
retard. Miss the point, it’s Christmas
mate and I’m a greater gift;

a well-wrapped part of you that only
you can ever feel through me. A turn
into reality and beauty;
way before the snake – your fall.

Hearts and Minds

To find true love and not deceit
is impossible through mind
because this brain’s a beat
behind
my knowing heart - an enemy
twisting masks of tangled wire

but truly, love, reality
desires to come at you with fire
and burn our minds away
and up into another clarity.