Muddy Puddle Muse

Where have you gone, muse?
What heights do you climb
Without me by your side?
I thought I had your love forever
At the tip of my pen
Your blood flowed
My dreams haunted
My life not my own
But with mastery comes peril
With strength, hubris
And from assurance, neglect
Now I take out my old trophies
And polish them for your reflection
Hoping in this muddy puddle
To see the sky

Let us remember them

Raw boys drawn from sleepy hamlets
From village greens and smokestack towns
Raised on dreams of glory
Charging into the fray
On fields of honour and fair play
Queensbury rules, not a knife in the back
Now they paint the muddy fields of France with their blood
Cut to ribbons by machine gun fire
Lungs bloody full of mustard gas
Ears pounded by the ceaseless shells
That fill their dreams now
Pound and smash, they never stop
Barbwire pins them into our history
Dried butterflies of a genus lost
They died so we might live better
We might say
With a choice they never had
We do not know the future
But we know the penalty
Should we ever commit such folly again

The Diver

A diver falls straight for the sea
Is he a diver, did he make that leap?
Or is he just a man
Who woke up falling
And decided to fall straight?

Time to sleep

All gone
Energy expended
Angst expelled
Worry exorcised
Life lived and nothing left behind
Time to sleep

Lost to the sea

A town on the tip of the world
Where people come to surf, to have fun
To get married
A girl from a line of beauty queens
Class president, prom queen
But somehow doesn’t fit the mould
She’d rather sneak off to play football
Or box
Yet charms everyone she meets
I knew that morning
In the pit of my stomach, she’s gone
As soon as I see crowds gather along the beach and watch the stormy sea
Whilst we drank and dined
While I left my car at the reception and took a taxi
Never thinking of trouble
The girl I met so briefly
But made such a print on my heart
Was gone
For some reason I thought she’d thrown herself to her death
But no, she was taken
Forever to dwell in books and steal the the show in a film
And never be forgotten
The least by me

What I have lost

Deep the places of the earth
To which I take my shame
For who could replace you?
An ocean for our tears
Or a maze of tunnels and stairs
To get back
What I have lost

Magaluf

Every night, a different dream
Threads that bind up and make our waking world
The tall man seeks; the tall man will find you
No matter what dark room you shut yourself in
Father time comes a calling to lay you open
With forgotten emotion
Sharp as steel cooled in mother’s tears
A man cries on the steps of his old university
A girl stops by, concerned –
We’re all living out of time, he says
When old friends meet and reminisce
Book tickets to Magaluf
Two weeks of yesteryear and perhaps forget
We are no longer young

No insight

There is no insight so brilliant
No wisdom so profound
That you are not guaranteed, at some point
To forget it

Good to be Alive

Smoke from the chimney
Fish n Chips heavy on the clear evening air
There’s something pure and profound here
Hard to pin down
Shit it’s good to be alive

Towers

The sea, always so close
Join us, it whispers
Find your end, and your beginning
But still I race my race
Me against whomever
And check the foundations
Of these towers we build
Tall but fragile along the waterside

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