Everybody Has One

Sauntered past the pastel blue streetlights that lit his spark
And into the shade again, a hedge whose give allowed him.
The sauce and stuff would be on him a while yet, no need to worry.
Tappin’ down the street, a sight to behold, pathetic perhaps to the onlooker: frayed

And our man danders, every sway a rush and dare
A destined adventure for sure and so
He sticks the boot , pedals harder, jackboot stomp
Someone would wonder where his mates were or went.

Our man danders. He’s happy, you know. Perspective might strike cruelly
But for now he’s a happy man, because the buzz is on you see
And what needs doin’ tomorrow matters nothing
The buzz is all
And all is now

Zen

His lens is peculiar. All he knows
What he knows not
And maybe it’s not his lot
Is that any other person who cares
To spend their time enquiring
Sees a sorry man, wasted, gifts and all

But maybe they miss the wisp
Of a sitting room philosopher
A Public House priest
Who smokes long with the feckless

And cares naught for haught
His nature, not principle
Speaks in rounded tones
Smooth-resonant and clear

A hoodlum schooled
Whose knowledge is dispensed most warmly
The one who taught you mushrooms
To pick and prepare

A modern day druid
And yourself? Next in line I guess
To some, a fool
To those respected, a friend

Philosopher, Musician, Writer, Eejit =]

Lazybones

The singularly most interesting person I have met to date
Lacks sorely that one quality integral to attaining success
Discipline

Talent, intelligence and charisma where at his beck and call
Yet wherewithal eluded him
I do not know

It’s a funny thing when you find genius in the working class
And the strain is somehow warped
With that crucial missing something

It’s not a pity really. Just as long
As someone can stand witness
And recall fondly, the capers, and the jaunts,
Of the family madman.

Trying to be a nice person

I’ve been accused in the past of being a nice person
But lately it seems I’ve been surrounded
And the unbearable niceness is being forced upon me
A taste of my own

And so I must respond in kind
And though I appear sincere
There is a nagging reserve
That mocks me now ‘Hi boy, hypocrite!’

But I can’t be so honest
As to correct some barfly
The name of a guy
And come off spasmodic

It’s just not good form
So I’m playing the game
And my playmates oblige me
Openings are obscene

When you crack in a dream and correct
Every nice faced fella who fumbled
And stop in shock cascaded

They were feeding you kippers all along!

Counterparts

Grizzled the one a jailbird
And you the mellow unafraid
Soft philosophical silly
Insightful spiritual and stunted

Him too spiritual, ‘the wise man’
A job of work he done and you too
Like chalk and cheese, my stomach churned
If it was now I’d relax so easy and smile

Easy to say still and all,
In the presence of your counterpart
I might falter
The sudden bark, when stepping wrongfooted

But the stories were great.
Homeless in London
Working down a hole all day smoking sensimilla
‘The best of good gear, Deck.’

Wisdom both sides,
It worried me some
That their differences
mightn’t be reconciled.
And so the meshing
Of my own inner being
Would remain undone

Forever caught up
In a trap wrought of self-acceptance gone wrong.
Yet they sat one and the other
At peace with themselves
The one not atall unsettled
By the notion that he might be an ‘inferior man’
Or somehow an eejit, a laughing stock

Needless burden
Yet its weight seems to fit

I’ll carry it all my days!
For peace isn’t meant me
The Gods forecast torment
Acceptance, endurance, bottle cap returns

The streetwise and the intellectual

At odds it would seem
But comfortable on a couch
For they both liked a smoke
And they both liked a drink
And they were both good fellas
Who had learned to live
With themselves
At peace

The Aged Dreamer

In the beginning there was a dream
Flesh and bone knitted knots.
It was a dream built sturdy
On readymade rock
Of curiosity, fascination, and inner-wrought belief.

The dreamer had a vision and followed
A path laid clear yet treacherous
And negotiated the gnarls of unsavoury fortune gone foul
Unearthing precious stones he called his own
Possessions to be displayed with pride
A taste salacious he acquired for this ride

Pitfalls so perilous beckoned and he scoffed
Whilst imbibing the licquored fruits now offered him freely
Flesh was flashed and he fished with glee
A most absent minded gold digger was he

So much so that his faith he betrayed
And manys a maiden in madness misled.
The blade overhanging was dangling now
And the dream once so pure and so tangible
Had faded into some half-remembered fantasy
A stolen promise. What had gone wrong?

Ah badness! Badness will lead you astray
Be careful how you go now, and do no man harm
Be good to your fellows lest your dreams fall apart
The best I can say is to follow your heart

Honoured

An angel amongst us
They dwell in hallowed groves
And breathe life into quaint utterances
Whilst conjuring the spirit
Of Mesmer, with poetic deft flourishes

One who has integrated
Both shadow and self.
Whose beauty inspires awe, both humbles and honours
Causes no man to search himself in the grip of mild neurosis
No woman to regard with suspicion, malice, or otherwise undue negative intent.

Chaplin-White China

A bowl-you-over girl
Of 21 years
Raggedy thrift dress
Dances offbeat and senseless

I think she’s doing it for herself
But everybody gets a kick
Out of seeing her
Lose herself
So freely

I love her.
She knows this especially
It’s an understanding that we have
Pure and sweet