For the countryman is a man of the earth
The day’s work would fly on by to the rhythm of a toss of a spade
He’ll buy his wife a brand new dress
Success brings fertility in the country life
For I am the Earth who shines out in joyous mirth
Don´t chase me (for you will never catch me), cos for all your stealth
To find a crock of gold you must ever be bold,
Red in tooth and claw that survived the Winter's gore,
In time the territorial year turned over your global fear,
You think to hang in there like a fleshly ripened pear
Ring it will when struck like a distant peeling bell
Time to die, no time to lie, no time to buy or cry
Everything you valued is thrown to the maelstrom
Your weighty shoulders once proud now huddled in the diminishing light
Old man Truth you came and went not before your time
Time to die, no time to lie, no time to buy or cry
Technocracy only answers to your boxed-in mind
Can you not see where your cancer originates from?
There is a true individualism but it is self-effacing
In your hearts you know that your outward manifestations are earthly bound
I follow, my thighs give chase
A snake, I wind a route
Peaches, sticking out of the hedge
What beauty is this creaturely love,
Rain for the virgin
It’s a miracle, a miracle, a miracle
She came in the rain
From head to toe
No religion anchors me
God leads the trail
Every nation embraces me
The rocks stare up to fallen idols
The sun glints off my mercurial heels
But even must I ascend the empirical realms of Jupiter
For ultimately I follow the sun into its Plutonic demiurge
Man knows no limits, he is killing for all the same reasons
From a mountain top and riding on a stream of sunlight
Duty meets passion, the creative touch of hand and heart
Ride on, wind up, the journey is a hero’s welcome
The setting sun has disappeared among her breasted fort
Second sunset, second sunset diminishing beneath the sea
Why, from this ancient spot upon her prostrate navel
The colours were bright, all angular in sight
Deeper and deeper I cut like a cleaver
God in creation, the God of Redemption
Everyone heeds the word of the Tree
Heave I will into her Holy of Holies
My utterance reverberates the walls of her cavern
The seas will rise and rivers will prize
I live in this world through day and night
In tooth and claw I was bourn on her back
I grew to the size of a colony of honeybees
You are not what you seem Old man of the gean
I chopped down the ash to embody me a handle
The holly bore me a hand with a pang of deliverance
I blew me a scream from the wood of hornbeam
Into the darkness I ventured within a mangle
I festoon myself in the clothing of evergreen armour
And in that most quiet place where the yew casts its face
MerlynX
The night drives me on, curious to see new horizons
But of course I never meet them because I’m always in the now
It is not the present that delivers me but the unknown that if I try to reflect upon extrude from me my vigor
Yes I wonder what the next hill brings, maybe a crescent moon, a wonderful encounter, or a vista to a foreboding sky
But I’m prepared, I know the terrain before I enter it
I’ve drowned my consciousness like a distant island in an inundation
And I have nothing else to look out for, only my survival
My instinct feeds me a genetic memory twitching at my muscles
And I fly without even thinking how to reach my destination
As if the global tide carries me like flotsam aggregating in the sea
I arrive and wonder how I get here in my only small mind
Time to rest, for now I reflect upon the previous crossing
Did I really smash that distance rounding off every peak like a gentle rolling?
Was it up or down I was going or turning myself outside in?
Unstoppable, the master of life knows no time, only the universal clock
Hands waving back and forth as if to say, ‘Hi, you’ve arrived’
Tick, tock, tickity tock, someone forgot to wind me up
The watch maker made a special case for me when he wrought with magic my charm
Instead he replaced the face with a mirror so that nobody could ever know where to find me
I am everywhere though like there’s no end to this I-land
Yes, that’s where I reside in my subjective paradise, growing and sinking with every moment’s respite
HAVE YOU EVER FATHOMED THE MEANING OF LIFE?
MAYBE WHEN ALL HOPE IS LOST AND YOU ARE BEREFT OF RATIONALE
YOU SINK DEEPER INTO YOUR HEELS FOR FEAR OF WANTING TO MOVE
AN UNEXPECTED TURN GESTURES YOUR WAY AND YOU ARE CARRIED ON ITS MOMENTUM
AND THEN YOU DON’T WANT IT TO STOP AND SO YOU ATTACH YOURSELF GRIPPINGLY TO IT
IT COULD BE A NEW PERSON, A TECHNOLOGICAL GADGET, OR WORDS SPOKEN IN THE RIGHT TIME AND PLACE
HAVE YOU EVER WONDERED THAT IT’S THERE ALL THE TIME?
BUT A VEIL HIDES IT FROM YOUR SENSES AS A SHADOW WOULD ECLIPSE THE LIGHT
IT IS INFINITE NO MATTER HOW FAR YOU ARE AWAY FROM SEEING IT
IF YOU LET GO TO WHAT YOU HOLD SO DEAR TO YOUR HEART
IF YOU LET IN NOT JUST THE TEMPEST BUT THE EYE OF THE STORM
IN ITS CENTER IS A STILLNESS FROM WHENCE ONE CAN SEE YONDER HORIZON
HOWEVER, IF YOU STEP OUT KNOW THAT THE TIDE WILL QUICKLY THROW YOU IN ITS ORBIT
AND THEN YOU MUST GRASP AT THE REINS AS A CHARIOT WOULD DRAW THE SUN ACROSS THE SKY
IT WILL MAKE YOU REALIZE THAT CHAOS IS ONLY EXPERIENCING THE MAELSTROM FROM THE OUTSIDE
YOUR ORDER IS IN THE STILLNESS OF THE MOVEMENT WHEN YOU CENTRE YOUR GRAVITY
AND THIS WILL ALLOW YOU TO CONTROL AT A FLICK EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO SEE
A RIPPLE HERE IS A CURRENT THERE, A PEBBLE DASHING THE SURFACE OF A POND
SO I WILL LET YOU GO NOW TO LET YOU FATHOM YOUR OWN DEPTHS
AND I HOPE MY WORDS HAVE TOUCHED YOU AS A FISH WOULD TICKLE YOUR NAKED BODY
AND THEN MAYBE THEN YOU WILL FIND ME IN TIGHT EMBRACE WANTING TO BE BORN AGAIN
Where are you Jamie (come-and-get-me) Lee
You’re the girl who raised my soul feather-free
You took me to a rock and lifted up my spirit
And we plunged together like flailing chicks
There ain’t many girls like you
Who dared to get closer than the average wannabe
You had no baggage tied about your neck
Unlike those lobsters caught up in fishing nets
You were just too hot for those cold freaks
Who stared up like ice cubes floating in a soft drink
But you melted them in the heat of your lips
Because you’re dirty in the way you crush your lips
When you walk it’s like an invitation for my eyes
To trace its sight about your curvature
Or that’s what you are, a loose-hinged door
Waiting for the next bang like some wanton whore
You’re so hungry that your groins sweat out candy
Your busty bosom eases sugar drops into my mouth
I get sticky toiling all over your carnage
Like dew drops collecting sap for my rampant forage
Did you really squeeze me when you first set eyes upon me?
You made me so ready like an ice-cream waiting its next topping
Your breasts were like receptacles for my dry mouth to hang on to
Your cold arse like a parking bay for my roving bike to lock into
I remember how you rode my kayak
You got us so wet my sweet nectar flow
Even though you took a good spanking
You secretly wanted more and more
'My heart bleeds honey for you, my queen
Only your sweetness can stir me to flight
If I get lost in the windy crossing, I know I would hear your voice a calling me to return'
'Where art thee my king, for I have a cell cosy and warm to share with you
Don't tarry for winter is upon us. And I need your bodily drool'
'And as the mountain air began to condense into droplets of dewy pools, so I gathered my strength to run down the slope with visions of my paramour on the wing
It was a race to get there in pursuit of her pheromonic chant as it drifted on the air in puffs of amorous joy
But with her tail up she was inundated by numerous petitioners, all festering after her natural beauty
Would I get there in time before she would subtly refuse my renewed advances? How must I keep her waiting and wanting?'
'The crossing was windy as I traversed the green fields of Gaul
Every hill and hollow gave up its secrets as I dashed between them
Tossed like a tree whose branches gallantly spring back in defiance of the head wind
I knew fate was far from easing my abdominal pride
Could I really leave the sun-washed rosemary behind for the damp winter chill of Albion?
Where only ivy could suffice my insatiable lust for sweet nectar in winter?
Oh, how I wish she would hide in its evergreen armour if only to peer out waiting for my frolicking dive
Straight to her bush when I would then take shelter in her moistened embracing hive
Squeezing me in the dark cover of skimpy leaves and crystalline flowers
Surely I would be the first if nature truly desired me a wet feast'
'Why do you tarry?' I hear her lusty tone deliver
'For Albion is cold and I need a bed mate to snuggle up to
Surprise me with your roughened travel-worn hands and seize me in the quiet of the night
Make me wet in your firm grip with your hot breath around my neck
Only my future king could survive these freezing, yearning nights and arrive at my doorstep bedraggled and steaming
I will peel your soaked clothes and dry your moisture with endearing kisses as to see you naked before me
You will not escape my clutch for I will suck you in so tight as to drink every drop you issue
And then in my utter exhaustion I will awake in fields of rosemary and olive carried on the Sun's eternal rays'
The days grew short and the nights bitter as snow crept into my numbing limbs
My blood stirred only by the thought of my regal vision piercing the air like a tramway cleaving the skies
There I would be carried on the lulling tones of her sweet voice like puffs of clouds dampening the racing wind over my ears
So sweet is her voice that even they dance like candy floss in a sumptuous whirl
I follow her siren as a breath of air is sucked into her lungs
Drawing me ever closer until I latch onto her moistened demanding lips'
'Erect, in an inescapable corner of damp greenery
I held her firm as she grappled there spread-eagled with her pert bum clamped in embrace
Heaving until even the leaves gave up a hoarse cry of elation
I could feel her sucking me in ever deeper as she tightened her loins
Like a lamb smothered in the raw heat of a sacrificial offering
I merely extended myself from the Apollonian rays of the sun
Like lions powering the chariots of the eternal gods
She demanded more the pulsing throbs that lifted her skin in sweating pimples
Baked and battered I blasted her one more time until her breast gave up her sugary teet
Softened like a cooked apple waiting for its custard cream'
'We danced in figures of eight, a whisper's breath between us
Carrying the vibrant tones of her piercing voice as it lifted us in ceremonial circles
The orgasmic cry of our unisonic rise as we spun and hummed ever faster on the blanketing air
Taking each other on a lost crusade to lands of multifarious flowers
Unable to release each other my queen drifted love-like sweating melodic notes through my ears
It seemed an eternity that, bedazzled and saturated by her hot abdomen, I would not desire to let go
For as a king who lives for this day we were utterly infused in each other’s sweat running like rivers through every crevice of our body
It was an eternity, all day and night without ceasing as we buzzed in joyous reproach of our cultural assailants who could not even dare pull us apart
And yet set upon by our admirers queuing to surround us in a perpetuating mass protecting and waiting for the new-born
I could only drive harder as we whined and ground until we were red in tooth and claw tearing at each other's form'
Stop me if you can dying people made of the sand
I am carried on the ocean with a mouth of frothing seance
Watch me reduce you to that moment when God gave you his hand
And struck you on the shoulder to bequeath you a second chance
You had one more life to redeem the falleness of First Man
From whom you are so descended from the tip of his rampant lance
Did not a dove so gracefully flutter your heart with a breath of fresh air?
And remind you of the woes that had gone before your stares
Your sight was frozen then from a world you couldn't see
If only to hide from you the stains upon your wondrous tree
Remember the time you passed beneath its tickling branches
And the leaves that sprang your heels to uplifting dances
Remember the rains that splashed your salty lips like pure sweetness
And cleansed your sweaty groins as if to love you in the first instance
You needn't take the fruit for God had succored you eternal spirit
You needn't toil the fields for your numbers were contained in his holy crypt
And there in your resurrection you knew not hunger or strife
Each one to the Father beloved of the Christ's anointed life
Your face was stroked with the warming caresses of sun-bleached hair
That cradled your cheeks with clear receptive eyes sinking only to follow the sun's path
And you laughed as if death was vacant in the horizon's golden bath
Now your time has come to meet God's favourite son
Who brings to you this message in vain hope you will return to the One
When life would show me the hidden ways to achieve success
I would take the hands of my fellow countryman
Whenever I needed to I’d walk the streets and curb my stress
And receive the heart of every countryman
He takes his hoe to the soil where he knows his toil
And dig for victory with a cow mooing for Company
And link his eyes to his wife who is readying to lay with him
Turning the ground into a vegetable pound
He may be green from the food he’s grown but he’ll fetch a packet at the market square
His wife beside him looking forward to the country fare
To fit her growing belly and expanding breasts
And then she’ll make him a grand breakfast
With rations of meat and eggs to fit him out best
(With a pot of tea to calm her strife
He’ll don his hat and boots with a wink to his endearing wife)
Both his wife and the soil bring joy to his sight
Created in the image of nature
Comes a child born from the spoils of his tithe
Your encroaching skin brings with it your sins,
like clouds scattered high blotting the universal sky
Infectious as you are you dampen my spiritual fire,
a rash upon my face you cease to go away
I cater for your lows by oiling a heavenly rainbow
Strident tracks I trace for your uncommitting race,
endlessly searching in vain for that treasure in between
you are only following your shadowy self
No matter how tall you are (for you will never see me) or loud your calls,
you are running round in circles
and loosen your hair to the wind´s chilling care
Providing you with lips to the morning dew
And the sun basting your back in Autumn
your bloody hands then gave rise to pastoral lands
The Spring turned to Summer with the beat of the parochial drummer,
who scrapped after the appeal of militant zeal
as mountain snowcaps melted into amorphous sea maps
Sweat and tears gave way to sunken roads without frontiers,
leading your emotions just where they belong, in the malaise of your throng
If ever I knew you it is now old man Truth
Your shrunken posture dries like a loosely hanging fruit
Still lingering on an arching twig precarious in your stance
Peering down at the chasm between your heels and the last dance
If only to be picked by your most noble dashing mare
She would carry you away on horseback to Elysium
And place you in a bowl made of gold and platinum
When only time will tell how long that cirtcling sound will dwell
Cradled in the Earth’s most precious gifts under terrestrial law
To reveal within omniscience whilst stripping you to the core
No regrets, don’t reflect, prepare for the ultimate trial
Sucking into an infinite void every last atom
There is no more substance to carry you yonder
Only form to continue an imaginative venture
The airy sky and its convecting heat occlude you its almighty sight
Your gravity spent on one final descent from the tree of life
As sure as a pear under Death’s stare you vanish in the swish of His scythe
You contorted into many shapes and still lost your mind
The very blackness from which you appeared is now the hole you crave
Where peace and nothingness and quietude welcomes you into its grave
No regrets, don’t reflect, prepare for the ultimate trial
Beyond the rooftops there’s a mountain, and beyond that a sky
Beneath of which flutters a bird above the arboreal hillside
There’s a stream of smoke wandering, a shadow behind a window wondering
Below meandering through a gravel scree the tinkling of a spring
A car motor onwards direct in its object of destination
It hoots and flashes with intent its motive of deliberation
Beneath is a road that’s lifeless, an encroaching weed its enemy
It bakes in the summer and cracks in the winter in its oily indifferent melee
There’s a cyclist who travels the world carrying what little to boot he needs
But most of all he shares in his experiences and his most adventurous deeds
The people come out to greet him from behind their doors and windows
In their own small words they reminisce of a life they remember as a child who grows
They want to be free and travel and dream of flying the open air
But always they must return to the eaves and sills of their cagey lairs
When will they let go of their material possessions? Can they buy a holiday to the sun?
They are anchored in the roots of a tragedy that binds their hands and feet as one
Sinking ever further into the floorboards beneath the layers of their wrath
They can all but let go if they would even dare to join the cyclist in his laugh
But to keep him here just a little longer to see what material goods are on show
Surely the cyclist will stay and dither and plant a little lower his own soul
Oh no, he has foreseen these lonely trappings, he smiles and waves goodbye
Wondering if ever just one will leave it all behind without so much a sigh
Every valley opens her groins to receive him as a fish would follow the rivers
They kiss his feet in the Boine as a memorial his brief presence delivers
A protruding rocky fort gives him protection against her moist enveloping clouds descending
So that in his sleep he may travel into her most dark secrets as an eternal child returning
With the rising sun so Dunaad offers him shelter from the wind, a trio of horned sheep to witness
The shod foot sunken into the footprint of his ancestral grave sealed with a deathly kiss
Upon the steppy slopes of Aintree the giants prepared the way millennia in advance
So that the descent into the sea is marked with a volcanic heritage, the world of man in penance
The eruption is deep enough to cause division and strife among the floundering masses that pretend reverence
But the wise traveller who always returns to the caves of antiquity knows better than to brandish a needling lance
Instead he enters the great womb of the land’s boggy interior feeling his way back in the familiar darkness
And lays down his head into her peaty cushions and drinks of the knowledge in quiescense
These mnemonic waters washing from him any cultural bonds that might embark him into political angst
Close up the boundaries between north and south so that every hill is a dimple of thanks
Could the cyclist repair the rent that so religiously tears at the fabric of the earth?
If only to return the Scotti into Dalriadic ecstasy in the name of spiritual rebirth
Will the castles now ruined be reconstructed into pilgrimage sites of reconciliation?
In order that Ireland and Scotland will remember again its roots as a single nation
Rodney’s said, ‘This is a proper car, it is made of metal’
Little did I know that it would leak like a kettle
From the outside she looks just sound
From the inside she denied even the car pound
Not that Cary, that’s her name, is full of money
Rather , she’d prefer to send the driver on a spending spree
Even the RAC man accused it of being naughty
As it clanked to a dead stop on the A40
‘It’s not throwing any oil in the rocker cover’
‘And you were going to visit your Welsh lover?’
Well, he didn’t really say that
But he implied it tit-for-tat
‘It’s bone dry’ he said with a sneer
‘There’ll be no nooky for you this New year’
Even when he dragged it onto the back of the recovery vehicle
It caused a puncture that made the RAC cough up from their till
‘Definitely the big end is gone’
As he dropped me back in Forest Hill all alone
Let down with the fireworks blowing up a storm
Perfect timing I thought to envisage an apocalyptic doom
Luckily Rodney’s accepted the beast into their care
As it squeaked in without a horn to bear
And I spent the next few days reclaiming my financial loss
Not that anyone really gave a toss
And there she laid slowly gathering algae
Whilst instead I got into Catalonian olive oil and considered Gaudi
Oil, the source of man’s modern woe
It’s the black stuff that threatens to bring him low
But I produce the golden stuff that glows like a lamp
A return gift of thanks if only Rodney’s would help me revive the tramp
And they did with the mentorship of its foul-mouthed staff
No environment for a proper lady but you got to laugh
Solly and Brian, all they talk about is sex
With the vigour and mindlessness of Tyrannosaurus Rex
Cary was no spring chicken either
Born from that most greatest of years 1980
She is the Series 3 the best of the lot
Apparently it was to save British Leyland who were hatching a plot
It was followed by the Metro, with wings from a can of Red Bull
Unfortunately the environmental movement were just beginning to condemn fossil fuel
Albeit one may reflect on the Allegro for its racing quality
That only fell off the pace when Ford produced the Capri
And all that bad crap aired about this problem car
Well, that was just American propaganda
I mean, square steering wheels and hydroelastic suspension
Reminds me of the French bird I had in pretention
After perusing her art work in those very comfortable reclining front seats
I had her leg over me in a manner that praised her cleats
But before I could lodge in my full attention and the matter at hand
PC Plod knocked me up and gave me a turn
‘Excuse me’ he said. ‘Do this in your home’
Can’t I have any privacy, this car is my own?’
Alas we moved on but the spirit had died
And the car would never again entertain a bit of crumpet on the side
And I thought Cary liked the French, I took her across once on the way to Spain
But my Polish friend didn’t appreciate me blasting out Elton John whilst Cary overheated in pain
A few years on and she is looking as good as gold
Rotten in a few places but not looking so old
But the story is much longer than this if you feel you can bear a little more banter
And it starts with my father who would revamp her
She was looking good then, only 2 owners
Before she came to me as retirement bonus
That is when she took a few dents
Not least the bonnet that the wind caught in a vent
It ripped up into the air as I was driving
And I couldn’t see a thing as it stood there writhing
It bent the hinges so that it would never fit true again
So that every time I lift it the body whines in pain
Like I say, when they came to take her away for being untaxed
They told me to keep it for it had no value as scrap
The engine has had two rebuilds now, the first from a fiery Turk
After it started smoking he must have taken me for a jerk
He charged me £550 and then added a little more for luck
After I waited weeks for it it still quacked like a duck
Lo and behold I steadily used up my RAC cover
As the vehicle went back and forth like a son to his father
I asserted ‘Hang on there Mustafa Crap’
‘Why do you insist on taken me for a sap?’
‘You promised a rebuild but all you’ve done is toss’
‘Maybe only changed the head gasket so as to prevent any oil loss’
‘Don’t tell me that you gave this car a krypton tune’
Even superman would be horrified as to fly to the moon
So I left it in his care with an unspoken agreement
After I mentioned court cases he appeared to repent
So for a year and a half I went back and forth
As a Greek he called me Yeshua and kept me aloof
He was my mentor and historian as he whinged and waxed
Being a Cypriot he wanted to blubber out the facts
And slowly that engine came together over winter
New piston rings, new pistons, another head cylinder
Gleaming like Sir Lancelot’s armour
I was betrothed to it with a creative ardour
I ended my stint with the fiery Turk’s company
As he continued to remind me of the ongoing fee
But it was me who forked out for a gasket set and a load more oil
And I wasn’t about to shrink away to the sound of the Cockney toil
With a super kebab for a communal dinner I said my farewells
And looked forward to pulling a load more girls
But I soon learned that the radiator was naff
So I bought a reconditioned one and made a huge gaff
It didn’t fit the Series 3 which meant buying the right hoses
Especially if I wanted to be saved from the flood, just like Moses
This was getting complicated and expensive that left me meek
When on pressurizing the system caused the water pump to leak
So I replaced that also and took her for a ride
Hoping that all things past I could be turning the tide
But the thermostat didn’t work and so I changed that too
To prevent it from overheating but that was only a ruse
Apparently to prevent an airlock one needs the correct version
For the radiator to work in a particular configuration
Anyhow, on another occasion when I took it to my sister
It started first time even in snowbound Rochester
On parking I ambled to a public house
And returned to find it whined like a mouse
I opened the bonnet and discovered the fuel was spraying
And realised the lines had been cut that got me praying
‘Who would do such a thing?’ was a thought I saved for later
For I went back to the pub to ask for a favour
Requesting a beer line I quickly fixed the problem
And scootered off home with ambivalent chagrin
Soon after I lost reverse gear, then 2nd or was it 3rd
Never mind I am so confused in trying to understand this bird
She flaps and quacks, squawks and squeaks
There just wasn’t any water going round to cool down this freak
But the final insult must surely be
The failure of the oil light to indicate when to pee
So she clogged up and I suppose caused her big end to pong
Stuck as I was on the A40 without a hard shoulder to cry on
It could not have helped when I over-topped her with juice
If only I could encourage her to get more loose
And that is when I retired her away into a garage
Looking very similar to metal-load of garbage
So two years passed but Rodney’s helped to clear the fog
As I rebuilt her and found a screw lodged in the reverse gear cog
I also returned the original radiator after having it re-cored
And now Steve got her purring after all the mishaps she has endured
And thanks to Alex and the other Steve that I got her through an MOT
But not before breaking the law, just give me another chick to carry on from where I left off before
Oh... that reminds me, there was an older lady once sitting next to me
When the wishbone collapsed and the wheel jammed inwards to Blondie
As she belted out the tracks I calmly and one-handedly guided her in
A fifty meter skid got my passenger on edge after taking it on the chin
But that is another story, and there will be lots more to come
For my girl is coming to Spain loaded to the hilt of her bum
It belongs to us who believe in the Great Spirit
Like us you crossed the frontiers of time and space
But not like us you are sucked into your finite race
You defy extinction and by extension God’s will
You build towers and rockets that push your material zeal
Upward and ever you think there is no limit
But little do you know that your repressed instinct is but decrepit
It solves the problems of yesteryear and omits tomorrow’s finds
Forever your are chasing your tails with your heads stuck up your ass
Plugging the pollution as you regurgitate your far(ce)ts
Let’s be honest you are not really that healthy
Where do you take your sanity from other than the mire of the un-free
Your big society is merely your small minds running rampant
Your imagination bloated and ready to implode in ever-growing contaminants
Your lack of the greater picture is contained in a scientific bum
It fattens in response to the concentration of emissions
Because the real world is lost to you for want of a gaseous fission
You breathe in only what matters in the short-term
Truly you must look outwards if you are to put in place every stone, tree, animal and germ
Not an infinite possibility of unchecked growth for the craving of human endeavor
Worthless as it is in the context of becoming a cultural diva
How irreverential to forget the spiritual roots of creation
God, the Unknown, is not nature to be dissected and individuated
Rather it is the knowledge that only the Great Death confers if you would just capitulate
Yes, give up your human-centered motives and uncover a myriad of creative possibilities
Not any of them an act of material growth but one of spirituality
Yet your discriminating souls contest this sacrificial act for the sake of identification
Believe me, the Golden Maen awaits you like an irrational light of emancipation
Soulfully leading you to the event horizon beyond the scope of your perceived sensual land
I say again, your humanness is an act of your defiance of God’s hand
You must die to yourself if you ever hope to be the origin of mankind
And then the realization will dawn upon you of the continuum of all small things
When the Golden Maen will shine forth as the harmony the whole of Creation brings
It is your soul who leads you to death as the environmental act yielded by the unconscious spirit
Making sacrifices of you all in the name of evolution and beyond in the revolution of the Id
Her stride, the way she walks
Upright, her head held high
She makes me ready
Bloody, a spear on her gait
My heart cries rebel
She’s close, I feel her heat
Her scent, leaves a trail of leaves
A bush who smells of myrtle
Her cover, a shady resort
Brings me unto her bower
Peaches, I bite into her nest
Peaches, sweating juice down my neck
Peaches, leaves my face in a mess
Peaches, her lips I ingest
Peaches, I drink of her sex
Peaches, thrust them down with zest
Peaches, I giv’em my best shot and no less
that binds up like a deer to a hunter
How majestic she drew me in,
like a sword into its scabbard.
Like a seed carried in its husk,
nurtured in the moisture of the earth.
Swelling to puncture her hymen,
to give rise to a virgin sovereign heir.
Rain for the people
Rain for the fields
Rain for the festivals
Rain harder still
Rain for the chase
Rain for the rivers
Rain until they break
It’s a miracle, a miracle, a miracle
Every drop had her name
She washed me from high
Each moment she cried
Her tears rolled down
And bathed my horny crown
She came with a flow
I paled to load up my bow
She slipped on a ring
And caught me in a spin
I came into her thrashing steening
I am free to ride, I am free to fly
To fly away upon this day
To ride the light with courageous might
And reach the exalted heavenly way
No politics burden my view
The whole earth is my nesting ground
God makes me not fail
This is the road of the prophets
Every culture embalms me
I will be remembered for liberation
The rains pour scorn upon sunken cities
But I traverse the higher road
Where the starry sky meets my nomadic soul
Venus passes me with a loving kiss
Her virginity is no match for heroic plights
Mars canters only a short while into the mists
Saturn still grounds me in wild earthly delights
Before even Uranus will give me an heir
And then on Neptune raise the chosen from their watery graves
For ultimately I follow the sun into its Plutonic demiurge
When the world was flat they said, ‘You can’t reach the ends.’
And now the world is round they say, ‘If only we could be friends.’
Territorial boundaries leave him scrapping around the edges
One stone too many has been tossed over the line
The rivers are filled contemptuously to overflowing
Its muddy waters change the course of history
Leaving the fields plagued with death and disease
And the people are left like salmon to a poacher,
Blinded in the aftermath of their melee
Comes the hunter wielding a scythe in one hand, a net in the other
He returns to reap his glory sifting the wheat from the chaff
The rulers of unkempt lands will buckle under his righteous gaze
There will be no mercy for his sweeping hands will strike them at the heel
He shall recover the balance of nature by flailing the rotten at their core
And the boar, the lion and the scorpion will pay homage,
In the graceful umbrella of his spreading wings
First one up, the whole world on my shoulders
The embers of yesterday’s fire still emitting its glow
I shake it up, another stick to rekindle my inner desires
Hidden flames once dormant, now relish the new day’s activities
The hours pan out, senseless to the real flow of energy
As wood turns to ash, and ash to soil, so the winds stir up another spirit
The death on one leads to the birth of another, its name is mythicpoetic
Ride up, wind on, the land undulates to reveal its person
Its many folds take the rider through a blurring scene
Its face just a memory of countless dreams
The road meanders as a snake to its den
But in that dappled shade beyond the crest of a hill
I see it a second time from a dimple of her flesh
As if passing away the time it quenches the day’s flight
Dragging with it a gusty wind that cools the skin of the land
As nature draws in, her silhouette is a night-blackened tan
I, emrys stood in full view of her boundless verdant scape
Reaching up at every turn of my wispy view
But then taken up in the cradle of her bosom sucking
Looking around into the void
Space is a frozen reticulate scene
Positioned I am in the middle of time
Stationed my vision to see from within
I turned on a point to capture the light
Everything fused, the dusk before dark
I made up my mind to follow a line
Carving and moulding a world for believers
A place of my own, a zone all alone
Beyond the dimensions of human retention
Death is passing me flowers in heaven
Born to a throne so fine does it shine
I take my position to state the conditions
An elder as high the mountainous sky
Risen in deed and spreading his seed
I take me a virgin to sanction a purging
The land will tremble and rattle its temple
A snake through her chasm to enrapture a spasm
Shaken right down to reveal a new haven
A single deep note so incredibly remote
Plutonic and sonic it pierces with fierceness
To raise upon a dais the most awesome enforcement
The banks will tear under the surge of an heir
Give me light, I give you might
Like no other to rule all nature’s fare
I find myself among the chosen few
I reside on a rock that reaches to the sky
And find myself on a shaft of light
I am a wolf, I am an arrow, the hunted deer, the bull of a target
The predator, the prey, the moss on an alder
My feet are wet with the travel of rain
My hair a mat of twigs and disdain
All nature produced me to widen her tract
To regain what has been lost to the men of feign
Desdcended are they from the families of Cain
And bred on the wing a sweetness for insurgency
A thousand stings to the temples of perdition
A thousand drones to the tune of sedition
Your fruit is still green Like the mind that you wean
You nurture revolt Like the insatiable goat
Who’s cry is consort With a brazen throat
To wield with the fervour of a barbarous vandal
With metal I sharpened the edge to a tinker
To cut through the mire of Babylon’s bingers
To curtail from the land the offending officiants
She bore me a prick with a poignant remittance
To go into humanity like a scourge unto pittance
To the slaughter of man upon the altar he shams
His blood feeds the soil in revenge and spoil
To replenish the earth from Mammon’s unrelenting toil
Amid the lianas where men are hung and strangled
Caught up they are in the vines of their vices
No rest for them as they struggle against reprisal
Tending to the needs of the budding seedling farmers
Who march in droves from their sacred oakley groves
To trample down a succession of foreign hordes
I bend me a bough that is strung with a vow
To cast upon the assailants of my Gallic verdant glades
A death as promiscuous as the rape of my virgin valesBack to main page