Dubai Days manuscript

Are all but one.

There is nothing new

Under the sun
Which spins in distant silence.

The millennia

Casts mists

Upon timeless pools of knowledge

And lost people,

Esoteric practices,

And patterns over aeons
Of birth, growth and death.

Rebirth, revival, Renaissance.

The Sphinx looks on stubbornly.

It holds its silence yielding nothing.

And what is left behind

Upon the mercurial earth

Are mere enigmatic scraps.
Dusty fragments

And jigsaw pieces

Which don’t fit together

And raise

More questions than they answer.

We’ve been here before
And will be again

For time immemorial

From soil to soul and back to sod.

The infinite glory of man and God

Remains impenetrable.



















Impunity



Jun 18


The pipes of peace seem drowned out by the snare
of war drums and the blare of bugles.

You can't bleat about love

And then bristle with contempt.

You can't shout about peace.
What is this impunity which you seek?

"The rules are for you, not for me".

The law applies to all

And god

Is not unaware

Of what you do.

And yet,
Like a spiteful child,

You do it anyway

Without a qualm or a fret.















In a Moment Like This



22nd Nov 18


Caress me.

Perhaps a kiss.

This tryst

In this wishful life,

May

Or may not happen again.
In the splitter splatter of the summer rain,

Perhaps

In this age

Of poets and pretenders,

Paper tigers and seditious rebels,

We shall die waiting

To revel
In a moment like this.





















In Out



Oct 17




In

Out,

The ebb and flow.

Slow death upon cobweb bed.

Row, row,
row your boat gently down the stream,

Eldritch dream.

A white elephant.

Man, room,

A boom,

Mushroom cloud.

9,
Dressed for the kill,

The thrill of the chase

And hunt and gather.

A mere feather on the tide.

Rome melts into the Tiber.

Tiger, tiger
Burning bright.

White light,

The sun in my

Eyes wide shut.

Cruise,

Whores loitering in the shadows of the church.

Lord, how great thou art
For art’s sake.

Father why have you forsaken me?

A tree bearing strange fruit.

Clop,

Cervine hoof

Upon cobble street.

Meet me in St Louis.
The fair.

Fun.

Honey, I'm home.

Out.

In.























In the Hall of Mirrors, a Man Stares



12th Dec 18


You always have the best lies.

Plausible excuses roll off your tongue

Like knobs of butter

On a hot stove.

You are your moment.

Your catnip
Is your own presence.

Epiphanies

Are rare but pour through your every vain.

Shooting past, the stars

Are sucked

Into the orbit of your logic and order.

You’ll not suffer fools nor stomach fodder.
A prophet’s burden

Is a heavy one to shoulder.

You’re older

And yes wiser.

Your flaws shape you.

You read to confirm the fears that you need.
You write to echo what you read.

The hall of mirrors

Stares back at you

With obstinate defiance.

Your disconcerted energy

Both invigorates

and drains you.
Certainly,

Whatever it is,

Wherever it needs to go,

You let it go.