2013

Shall

we

put all

of our scarce

and clear attention onto

a shiny

and bright

new

thing?

Grace

In a local pub, one man shouted to me

‘There but for the grace of god, go I!’

and pointed at Andrew. Consider the phrase – ‘grace

of god’ – invoking art and truth, commitment:

how beauty and love express through

skill and difference, novelty.

                                                Statesmanlike - it seemed

important not to invade an African country

or blame the boss, or thump that man, or scream,

because good beer and band were flowing; bodies

hopping. Boy I was mad!!

                                                Grace holds hands, nods,

including men and women, singing, stars,

and barmaids dancing angels pulling pints.

Andrew smiled and led the effervescent hugs and bops;

thanks to the grace of god.

Richard of York

Seemingly fleeting,

seemingly fragile.

Recipe:

bright light

and spraying water

arcing reminders

of a mystical pot

and far-flung gold.

Down's Laws

Sit on a chair,

nod,

plod,

hug like a bear,

be here

and different, odd,

smile like a god

at your subjects – and care.

Love family,

love me,

don’t care how you look,

make a show

and, in friendliness, throw

sinker, line, hook.

Sweet Rush

Is there cake on the menu, mate, cake?!
I’m sure I saw slices suggesting

a cook has been busy with baking

and sweetness is what I crave most.

Look in my eyeballs, mate, balls

to your oranges, apples, bananas;

forget 5-a-day, throw a bolas

at brothers parading with cake and

drag all their cake to the cake stand,

sprinkling sugar deep snow.

I’ve gobbled up meat and potatoes

and now I want saccharine – speed.

Valentine

We look away at the same sky;

a sky that’s always changing.

I fail to make this world benign,

although we see the same sky

and here we are, alone now,

side-by-side with waving trees

and, in a our time, unerring breeze

is dancing down a blinking street,

like dancing thoughts of two;

the best of me, the best of you.

Two Down’s Boys

 Here we are

in our aprons,

dripping lemonade.

People are peeping

and, in the restaurant, tittle tattle

leather skirts and thunderbolt words,

politics, bible and bartered

avocado and prawns.

But we are munching oily chips,

fit and fat,

bellowing hip-hop

from our chambered hearts

- magnificent brotherhood.

That’s where we’re at.