The Silver Rose
(SR) LANGUAGE OF BIRDS
THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS
Attraction isn’t something that only happens once, with one person. It’s part of what drives humans
Colleen Hoover
1: Spring
Interea longis fessos, erroribus artus
Deponens, jacui viridanti in fluminis ora
Murmure languidulo sopitus, et otia duxi,
Permulsus volucrum concentu auraque Favoni
Artur Rimbaud
*
Come listen lady-lovers to the Language of the Birds,
Hands slipping under covers to the magic of these words,
Unleash thy spinning fingers, let’s explore Calypso’s Cave,
When ecstasy must bring us ever closer, lord & slave.
*
I have sung a hundred sonnets in-between dull Sunday psalms,
For the girls in pretty bonnets in the fields about the farms,
Where, in the warmer seasons, I would lead them thro’ the corn,
To tease, with playful, reasons why our clothes should lay unworn!
*
As good girls giggle by me, kicking apples down the lane,
I’d whisper to them shyly, pressing flowers in a chain,
& charming them with sympathy, invite them thro’ the trees
To where they bend down, good to me, in woodlands on their knees.
*
On finishing their feast of me I’d lift a sticky chin,
Let kisses seek release in me, one look will guide us in;
As for the rest; release the chi, hands roving as before,
If standing, let your spangling panties dangle to the floor,
*
If riding, ye should pull aside & park amidst the pines,
If biding time before he comes, uncork the scented wines,
Dress in a little negligee, let’s dim that too-bright light,
There’s nothing like a lass at play to whet my appetite.
*
Lift up thy lighter fancies girls; a gorgeous gull white scene,
Wind-flashing snowdrift whips & swirls above the thirsted green,
See snow-drop heads & crocuses seep colours through the glade
& lily-lidded lotuses peep from a woodland shade.
*
Into the forest – lifeless, leafless – rushed the eastern breeze,
A rush of flushing springtime, herbage fluffs the blasted trees,
Down to a breast’s unbuttoning warm sunbeams glide in, gold,
Despite the old dames muttering, ‘tonight might still be cold.’
*
A full-lipp’d, long-lash’d redhead, on the roads down to Dalry,
Has flipp’d the faintest flashings from the corners of her eye,
‘What bird or beast doth patter by?’ Her thoughts could not concur,
‘Perhaps a pretty butterfly?’ I float my mind to her;
*
‘Please feel no fear, my pretty dear, pray put your milk-pails down,
I fain would never let ye pass me, walking into town,
Without quenching my bone-dry thirst upon thy milk so white,
Lass, ye shall be the very first to whet my appetite.’
*
I bent, & bow’d, div’d to her feet, suckling ten jiggling toes,
She put down those milk buckets, as up both her legs I rose
In nubile nibbling, lay she flat, her struggles paralyzed,
As ‘Stop!’ ‘Oh no!’ ‘Dinnae do that!’ her snuggles much disguis’d.
*
Lips passing by her special place, beyond her belly too,
Clamping upon those ample breasts, her handsome nipples drew
Into my mouth, insatiate dance, on blowing moisture cool,
I headed south to find the lode-stone of her lady-jewel.
*
My scouting hands went on ahead, one found her rustic mound,
Her paradise, her pubic bed, I rubb’d it round & round,
As if it were a tended ground of silk-grass, softly swaying,
While blended pleasure-scented sounds assented to my playing.
*
O cunnilingus, intense tickling, flip-flap lapping tongue,
Beflickering like candle flame, belicking fast & strong,
My swiftly-darting serpent tongue unleash’d pink alphabets
& sometimes strumm’d a Muslim-song flung from the minarets.
*
Both up & down, both fast & fully furious it roves,
Kissing virginal sunlit lips, searching for treasure troves,
I hit a spot, O special spot, her smooth back arch’d aloft,
‘Suck it,’ she almost begg’d to me, ‘suck it’ she whisper’d soft.
*
Erewhile I sucked I heard her sing, it was a joy to see
Her little quim all quivering essential ecstasy,
Slipping a sturdy finger in, gripping her thre’penny piece,
With gleeful pelvic beckoning her G-force did release.
*
I push’d on hard into that place, breath ruddering my own,
As swift rotations click in pace gush-waters flood the zone
From cunny upwards thrust uncoiling kundalini thread,
Mind disassembling, wet thighs trembling,earthquakes in her head.
*
From shaky pails thick droplets white splash flames across her waist,
Bright orbs of milky crystal, quite alluring to the taste,
‘At last my thirst is quench’d…‘ upjinking from her tensing knees,
Pull’d out… a wink, with one last drink went slinking thro’ the trees.
*
I left her in a panting pile, exhausted, eyelids tight,
Dreaming of shores romantic t’where she’d fly in faerie flight,
Catching her breath she patted down her petticoat, & tread
Back to her distant eiderdown, her boyfriend & their bed.
*
Upon the path she pass’d a lass, who, like a drunken bride
Taken to task, listen’d aghast; then ask’d, ‘where does he hide?’
Her fever pinn’d to open masts, she’ll share that man’s desire,
& was, that day, the second lass to fan my special fire.
*
These precious meetings soon became obsessional in me,
Investing into Heaven’s nests infectious energy
For, ‘things that mak a grown hen blush,’ shrill whispers in the kirk,
As to the woods more women rush those hours men trudge to work.
*
As one-by-one, footloose & free, dames skip back to their lives,
‘What changes have come over thee,’ hum husbands to their wives,
‘For ye seem very amorous, the most since ye turn’d bride,’
Of course it was her time with us that sent them satisfied.
—————————————-
2: Summer
I was only a poor poet, made for singing at her casement
As the finches or the thrushes, while she thought of other things
She walked so high above me, she appeared to my abasement,
In her lovely silken murmur, like an angel clad in wings!
Elizabeth Barrett-Browning
*
As summer chimes enchorial, what chorus every morn
Of songbirds’ strung arboreal for Horus’ all reborn,
My wilder side ran rampant loose, so good to feel alive,
‘I should,’ I mused, ‘try & seduce’ the wives of Moniaive,
*
For they go out a-foraging when trees are leafy full;
‘Believe me when I say to thee thou art too beautiful,’
I’d purr to them cautiously keen, a cheek-stray’d hair to fix,
Whether they were a crisp sixteen or frisky fifty-six.
*
Round all the girls of Galloway a wicked rumour spread;
‘A man lives in the woods, they say, makes forest floors a bed,
& understands the secrets of the Birds which dwell above
& better still he speaks the words to rouse a woman’s love.’
*
Ours was a Xanadu that June, a ‘Cisco this July,
As August Harvest comes too soon, one half-mile from Dalry
I saw a pretty buxom lass with hair like knotted gold,
Which glimmer’d gladly as she pass’d into the woodland wold,
*
When startling her a moment, stepping out from breathing trees,
‘Relax,’ said I, ‘Sir, are ya he?’ ‘Perhaps…’ ‘Sir if ya please,
I beg ye to attend tae what,’ she purs’d her scarlet lips,
‘Has burst intae some harlet knot, some curse between mah hips.
*
I think about yers everywhere, about the things ye’ll dee
Tae me if ah could only share mah perfect fling wi’ ye,
Mah pussy is an aga-stove that’s ne’er bin left to cool,
Which I’ve ‘gan ardour grove-tae-grove tae find ye, like a fool!’
*
‘Perhaps,’ much flatter’d by her dream, ‘a little later dear,
First, let us sup these sweetly streaming hillside waters clear,
Then feast upon this tasty hare I’ve roasted with dry sticks,
I caught it in my woodland snare, I caught it with my tricks.’
*
As with that gaily-splendid lass I settl’d to a meal,
Sat in the ferly-scented grass, our conversations wheel;
Bones pick’d right clean we look’d up to the dappl’d canopy
Where bluebirds preen, & pluck’d a few red apple-lanterns free.
*
She chibb’d a bite, I watch’d her loose lips slip the flesh within,
Watch sev’ral little juice-drips dribble down her tilted chin,
Them melted in her cleavage, when compell’d to view the wedge,
I felt my loins’ thrust-leverage propel me from love’s ledge,
*
As senses tantric-touching climb like rivers in a spate,
Commences now the clutching time, two beings penetrate,
As, I, a tender kiss impart, planted on panting chest,
An inch or two above her heart, let Nature do the rest;
*
Brushing my hips her deft hand grips my cleft caduceus,
Between my lips her firm tongue slips wild, fluttering kisses,
‘What do you want… I want to please you,’ pleads she with a stare,
‘I only want,’ I whisper teasing, ‘just to be… down there.’
*
Haunching myself above her as the Moon tips oer the land,
She’s begging me to fuck her, tugging with an eager hand
My hard as rock, blood-swollen cock, pulsating smooth & red,
Fed in her aching labyrinth where liquid-silvers thread.
*
The Moon sent Myrtho’s shadows to the waters & the rocks
Beside the earthy meadows fill’d with dandelion clocks,
Then entering she gave a <GASP>, when with a fearful heave
Flesh lock’d in flesh, with tight’ning clasp our slim limbs interweave.
*
‘Look at the trees! Look at the trees!’ Her voice was rich like honey,
Its cadence willing me to please her choice, bewitching cunny,
Then spinning round she leaps on top, a spider with her prey,
Sliding her spike inside us… or I her… O God that’s Great!
*
Of all the images I see this is her matchless angle,
When gorgeously up over me breasts to my body dangle,
Them drifting down enchanting to my nipple-tickling teeth,
While fingers taut & slanting pat her lattice underneath.
*
For this is bliss, yes you & I, eternity is now,
When misty & auspicious skies, mysterious, endow
This moment with salacious light, thy vision grass-stalks frame,
Swaying to our lovemaking as when thunder moves thro’ flame.
*
Just like the waves which lap erewhile wee sailboats cruise the bay,
I pulse within almandine isle…. now turning her we lay
Two taut milk-ladles in the grass… then rise we, howling hounds,
Slapping her plump, abounding ass as mighty thigh-push pounds.
*
As she her conjugals betray’d (& bore she no remorse),
Like flagellants her flesh was flay’d, goug’d by the jaggy gorse,
She gave retort to shake the dead, or raise a husband’s e’en –
His wife, he thought, was making bread, but naewhere could be seen.
*
With gangly gang of angry guys he flung his search-array
Towards our clanging passion-cries a mile or two away,
For I, that night, had grown cocksure, with such doth instinct blunt,
Blown mesmerised by her alluring, soul-consuming cunt.
*
Ignoring vatic, stern-squawk’d cries from birds flown branch & leaf,
I lock’d her fast ‘twyx naked thighs, her troth of wedlock’s thief,
But just before oblivion’s forever shouts should flee,
Five gruff, rough, tough-toned scruffy men about us could we see.
*
Dark faces torchlight-flickering they dragg’d our lust apart,
With wife & husband bickering they tied us to a cart,
& dragg’d me off to Dumfries town, where in a cell I lay,
Alone… some flagging, sad-faced clown… the gossip of Galloway!
——————–
3: Autumn
Bref, mon esprit sans connaissance d’ame
Vivait alors sur la bouche a ma dame
Don’t se mourait le corps enamoure:
Et si la levre eut guere demoure
Contre la mienne, elle m’eut suce l’ame
En la baisant
Clement Marot
*
As I, condemn’d to live in sighs, by Burghers of Dumfries,
Did one day listen to the cries of south-migrating Geese,
I found the frumpy Jailor’s Wife (she’d had me in July),
Had cook’d for me some country knife inside a prime beef pie.
*
With this (how marvellous the ruse) her half-wit husband trick’d,
With that lard-fellow well asnooze that tight wee lock I pick’d,
Ghosting within her chamber-room I twist her crystal dial,
Oblivious to danger’s doom for it had been a while.
*
Screeching upon an iron chair the Jailor eas’d from sleep,
I kiss’d his wife, fled from the lair, thro’ open window leap,
Night-hush soon broken by a howl to wake the whole damn town,
‘That man-wolf has escaped!’ men scowl, ‘let’s hunt the bastard down.’
*
Curs chase me thirty miles or more all thro’ the furtive night,
Til, coming hard upon thy door, ‘tis time to set things right,
On answering I sense thy shock, too scared to rouse the home,
Eyes Meet, Our Singing Soul-Ship’s Dock, Lips-Lock & Tongue-Tips Roam.
*
‘Why come to me?’ ‘I want to see thee, darling, I love you!
No woman’s ever shone in me the starlight that ye do;
Come leave thy husband, mistress, come & leave him as he snores,‘
Rush’d… in a state of half undress… ye join me out of doors.
*
Hen, off we fled, ‘gan glen-to-glen, two partners, hand-in-hand,
Up to the lang Water of Ken, hung high above the land,
From comely fleece we made a fire, where in its homely light
Lines of my silver sonnets hop like robins thro’ the night.
*
‘Ye jewel of the diamond’s price, ye bloom of rose’s rank,
Thine everlasting eyes entice me off the pirate’s plank
Into the oceans of thy heart, for in that heart we dwell,
Within this heart my Heaven & outwith thy heart my Hell.
*
For there’s a certain alchemy when melodies fair merge,
I share with ye rare chemistry & wear it surge-on-surge,
I live in thee, ye lives in me, there’s lyrics in our lust,
Such mystery shall always be our music & our trust.
*
Let lips fall on thy gentlest O, them deftly there shall trace
Wee love hearts with a fearie flow, leave imprints soft, like lace,
Let lips all feather-wafting drift against thy breasts so pert
Let strapping hands hitch up & lift the hem-stich of thy skirt,
*
With firmer grasp thy knees imprised, & spun upon the heel,
Ye with a gasp shall realized these sonnetries are real!’
A love of wondrous poesy creeping into violet hearts,
Pressing Atlantis panties deep into thy private parts;
*
A phantasy of auld return’d… she ravished midst the ferns,
When thistles bit & nettles burn’d un-noticed as she yearns
For some strong buck to suck her neck… I did & shook yer soul,
As buckling knees flop to the deck where, coupling, ye did crawl
*
To claim my carmine cock’s release, ye kneeling midst the trees,
Spread feelings I would fain ne’er cease from licking, taste & tease,
Girl, let things go, feel more than owned; throat, mouth, full of my girth,
Happy to drink thine ease from drouth, a thirsty girdle’s worth.
*
Then, licencing my roving palms, ye swoon & let them go,
Before, afront, between thy charms… above, behind, below,
Eternally terrific, discombobulating beam,
Our harp of sensuality’s emasculating dream,
As up against a tree we stand a leaf falls on thy face,
I ease it off with soothing hand & smooth my movement’s pace,
When every time I heave my way into thy moist delights
Ye’ll moan up to the Milky Way’s sky-hoisted satellites.
*
I raise ye by thy slender waist, & with the other hand
Slow wind ye round, as now ye face the soaring, tawny land,
A rhythmical osmosis drew hot juices thro’ my loins
While sounds of hooves & horses grew that cursing cur conjoins.
*
Faces of handsome certitude, grace ceases to exist,
Releas’d from randsom’d servitude, cheek-cuddling as we kiss’d,
The angels play’d above us, perfum’d oxytocin clouds
Surrounds two perfect lovers, bound in one another’s shrouds.
O sheer breath-taking, femur-shaking, quaking rush of blood;
O leaf-vein snaking, fruit-route taking, breaking gush of flood!
A big, bold, beating, soul-completing, soar of awesome drums,
Roars loud as fleet-heel’d saints were meeting, plucking seraph-strums!
*
An integrated, satiated sense the storm was done,
As all about us swallows celebrate the flaming sun
There flows such passions easily as pours the open’d wine,
Immers’d in love-sent sanctity, content to know you’re mine,
*
My darling, let us cuddle tight, gaze safely in these eyes,
Watch rays of psilocybin light make lazars in the skies…’
All in a dash of quantum flash we two were two white swans
Soaring yon Solway’s pebbledash to lands of sandy bronze.
*
Up to wild snowstorms billowing about th’Atlantic stream,
We soar’d our way wind-willowing like twin wolves in a team,
As if searching for Seeta, sweetest of the East by far,
Til parakeets come greet us by the fleets of Tranquebar.
*
We follow them to Andaman, where on the Jolly Bouy
Let us land as man & woman, & abandon us to joy,
As we settle down together to a dinner, you & I,
Under calm, unbroken weather of a balmy, breathless sky,
————-
4: Denoument
The lady watched her lover – & that hour
Of Love’s, & Night’s, & Ocean’s solitude
O’erflowe’d her soul with their united power
Lord Byron
*
As fishermen bring back the catch & sunset reddens sky,
I lie beside thy lavish thatch, our vibes intensify,
Ye are an island to explore, thy valleys, peaks & wood
Entice my wanders more & more, arous’d my carnal blood,
*
My puckered lips did nip & suck, my tongue-tips tickled light,
I took the dip & slowly stuck two fingers up, & tight!
Still gorging an indulgent breast, still forging deep inside,
My thumb-club rubs thy nubbl’d nest, it cannot be denied;
*
As to the Scop-Owls perfect pump-like wuck-chug-chug I push,
My fingers find a secret stump-like nook… a geyser’s gush
With looks of love & lust let free, exquisite kisses please,
‘My love ye are so good to me,’ ye whistle to the breeze.
*
Sweetheart, ‘tis time to enter thee, tae bore thine armour’d dark,
An awesome <GASP> thy fingers grasp tae claw the palm-tree bark,
As all my astral love employs such esoteric touch,
At first ye cannae hold the joys, the motion feels too much.
As senses tantric-touching climb like rivers in a spate,
Commencing now the clutching time, two beings penetrate,
Plaese fuck me harder baby, Sally begs in ecstasy!’
‘Ten minutes be my pardon, babe, & then I’ll set thee free,
Til’ then my strokes stay soft, stay slow, there’ll be no sharp surprise,’
Stoking a warm orgasmic glow in flame-encinctured eyes,
The Ocean brings a cautious breeze, the Moon the still of night,
A coconut crashes thro’ trees & bird disturbs to flight.
*
‘Nine minutes…’ let us sample what it’s like to fly a kite,
Sat in the rhythm temple of our temporal delight,
Singing the Karma Sutra, Saraswathi on sitar,
‘My love you are my future, are my life-raft’s guiding star.’
*
‘Just eight more minutes…’ breathe I as my darling strokes maintain
All the sultriness of Shanghai, smooth as Dubai’s darkling plain,
For there is sweet perfection when erection firmly held,
Quintesscening connexion of the psychtropic meld.
*
On seven minutes pleasures surge, throbbing lip-bitingly,
Sliding the sex celestial, enmesh’d elatedly,
We are two Lovers natural, expressless, yon all speech,
Our Love the body beautiful on sempiternal beach.
*
‘Six minutes sweetheart, more for ya…’, as the moon shone on the land,
Thy cortex cornucopia regaled at my command,
Erewhile I softly stimulize thy spirit’s lissome dreams,
What lofty zephyrs phantasize of coming in the sunbeams!
*
‘Five minutes love…’ this thrust unties the keystone to unlock
Thy trust-exhaling orchid cries, her lilting for my cock
Cries acquiescence more & more, breath wishing I’d go faster,
“Patience!” I said, “your time will come, good woman I’m yer master.”
*
‘Four minutes…’ let us halt the hooves, we’ll watch the world stand still,
When looking at her body proves in she my lives fulfil,
‘Ye are so fucking sexy lass,’ as with a gentle creak
I push into thine underpass & nipples ‘gan to tweak.
*
‘Three minutes…’ fainting lambs at play, life’s frolicking connects us,
A soft, sensory holiday of the foxy senses,
On flexing back converg’d a spell, night’s freckling starry chart;
Ineffable love-surges swell… felicitous my heart!
*
‘Two minutes more…’ the penetrating melody fulfils
Of sweet syrinxes resonating praise… the cloudy grills
& sunrays spear exotic… all my smoothness snaps to jolts,
Forbidden & erotic, clapping swarthy thunder-bolts.
*
‘One minute dear,’ into thine ear I whisper’d, ‘to complete
This countdown sensual seconds steer,’ increasingly our beat,
Invokes seething Vesuvious, her lava set to blow,
Fiances fucking furious, our virtuoso flow!
*
O Liberations! Celebrations! Racers Riding Skies!
Acceleration-laced Sensations Splice Colliding Thighs!
Champagne Decanters Set to Pop! Bees Hop upon on a Rose!
‘Im Coming Babe, Don’t Stop, Don’t Stop,’ Urging my Further Blows,
*
Thy Breath Cascades! My Shakeress! My Bel imperia!
Blending Tremendous Hand Grenades! Compell’d Hysteria!
Explosion-Quaking Uterus! From Flexile Meteors,
Voluptuous & Unctuous… fled rabbits from the wars.
Inconscient in the gilded gaps twyx sex & ecstasy,
Lovegasming, our limbs collapse beside a shimm’ring sea,
Our randy & romantic pile, as frantic pantings fade,
Struck up the songbirds of these isles a sylver serenade.
We lay awhile… becalm’d… asleep… I rose without ye stirring,
I found a sea-shell round & deep, I fill’d it to yer purring,
Washing away yer sea-salt sweat ye sail’d a wistful sigh,
‘My love, I am not finish’d yet…’ ye whisper’d, ‘my, oh my…’
*
Ye sitting up, I slid behind, cupping a supple breast,
Letting my favour’d fingers find the moist & swollen crest
Of thy most tender labia; with searing, stealthy stroke,
I’ll have my lovely way wi’ yer, when with a slender poke
*
I push my fingers deep once more… surf shines upon our feet…
Transported to this lapping shore as alchemies complete;
Lass, let us cease this wooing song my cooing kisses seal,
Come here to me… come taste my tongue… try doing this for real!
(SR) 5: The Scotiad
THE SCOTIAD
When we stride or stroll across the frozen lake
We place our feet where they have never been
We walk upon the unwalked. But we are uneasy.
Who is down there but our old teachers?
Robert Bly
***********
PAISLEY
I’m cringing every time I see a proper Paisley tie,
I’d just popp’d ‘ungry into Greggs a hottish pie to buy
& chose a steak & kidney offer’d up for ninety pee,
I took the pie, she took the change, & said, “It’s ninety-three!”
I said, “Love, that’s false advertising,” stormin’ out the door,
But never mess wi’ Weegie Birds, they’re proper fuckin’ hard-core,
& leaping from her hum-drum she pursus me down the street,
Lookin’ as if an earthquake were shaking a slab of meat,
& panting now beside me squeez’d the pastie from my hands,
Smugging with satisfaction at her petty jobsworth’s stand
& turns her tail in triumph, as back to her shop she skips,
You coulda balanc’d ninety-three bridies on those fat hips,
Then looking down on what was left, my skin all bruis’d with mince,
I thought I’d catch the first train out – ain’t ever been back since!
***********
ARRAN ARRIVAL
Remember the moment Arran came real
Sat on a stone by a sunbathing seal
Perch’d on a pyramid, sea splash & splish
God, why dya put a dog’s head on a fish?
The eldest lay like lions oer the bay
The youngest lifts its heads & looks my way
Then shifted weight & slid into the sea
To settle on a shallow shelf near me
She knew I was a poet, I could tell,
Perhaps it was my solitary dell
Of silent thoughts, thro’ which I shall commune
Thro’ druid nature, with an ancient moon –
A sprig of scented streaming enters mind,
Future is real, the past a dream behind!
***********
GLEN ROSA
Following the bob of the deers’ heads guide
Scampering alane along the hillside
Not quite a goat, not even younger man
But, damn it, I shall do the best I can
As is the wont of jaunting sonneteer
Among these stones, where bones of mountaineer
Who died a lonely death, a broken pile,
Lies hidden in some crevice peristyle;
The smoothest rocks I’ve ever seen alain
Among the heather bells, all underneath
The poet peaks of Arran since I came
By strange force drawn, the one that governs fate
With gorse just yellow, heather yet to spate
Perch’d in a pure profundidty of thought
I feast upon this mansion for the eyes.
***********
THE SADDLE
Above Glen Sannox on a Summer’s Day,
The Samothracian Mysteries at play
Is this Olympus? This the Delphic vale?
A mythomeme? A dream? A fairytale?
A Cuckoo Call the only sound I’ll hear
But for the murmor of the burnbrook clear
Those stones upon the slopes are older than
The Laws of Zion & the Fall of Man!
A glance behind to townships of the coast
Across the waves, a dozen miles at most,
Reminds me I am mired in my times
Of Crashing Dreams & Cash Machines & Crimes
So, let me gaze again upon Goat Fell
Uprising like a divine citadel!
***********
GLEN SANNOX
With Gods of Arran I’ve come to commune
A Druid of the Realm & of the Moon
A Cuckoo Call the only sound I’ll hear
But for the murmour of the burnbrook clear
Those stones upon the slopes are older than
The Laws of Zion & the Fall of Man
While Pterodactyls once did line the ridge
That rocks square-block’d & saddleback’d have bridg’d
A glance behind to townships of the coast
Across the waves, a dozen miles at most,
Reminds me I am mired in my times
Of Crashing Dreams & Cash Machines & Crimes;
O! let me gaze again upon Goat Fell,
Uprising like a divine citadel
***********
THE BOGUILLE
Took a pill for a hill and a headwind,
What a thrill when the voyager starts,
Limbs laden with bags like a Bedouin,
Full of bedding and biscuits and charts!
As hauling the hill slope demands a
Huge effort of pedalling legs,
Downhill all the way to Lochranza,
To the inn and it’s tasty old kegs,
& a pint, as I wait for the ferry,
With a salad of radish and ham,
Wash’d down with a wee glass of sherry,
Finish’d off with a single malt dram;
Setting off, then, I felt rather merry,
Flying drunk and I don’t give a damn.
***********
KINTYRE
Far from the shock & shockwaves that inspire
Testosterone, that rages as an ape
Set in a dirty cage – this is Kintyre
Of pristeen, tranquil harbours – here escape
The rituals of bedlam, & retire
From vistas concrete, & fermenting grape –
Far from the shock & shockwaves that inspire
Testosterone, cag’d like a dirty ape!
O’ergaze to the gorgeous isle of Arran,
Where the mountains are dwarfing Pirnmill,
& the beige & the browns are all barren,
& the sea is incredibly still,
Where lumbers a boat, flowing slowly,
Over scenery poetry-holy.
***********
ISLAY
There is a calm of Islay, where far flew
First flourishings of Christianic gloss,
Who else but God could bring a peace so true,
In whose Son’s honour stands Kildotan’s Cross?
As breezes drop, & the sea-spray pure, a
Spirit passes twyx Islay & Jura,
What wilderness inspires the wand’rers eye
To tackle those rough paps before I die?
Convinced in the magnificence of now,
Of living things, & seeing life, & how
Complexities evanish like a sprite;
I AM a poet! Let these vows renew
On Carn na Faire, watching the birthing night
Compel the stars to crown this drastic view!
***********
GLEN COE
Before Glen Coe’s ghostly & ghastly peaks,
Lost Merlin lochs of savage Rannoch Moor
Move the soul to tears… challenge to surmount
Invites with topaz slopes, we park the car,
Pop a wee pill & begin the ascent,
An arduous climb, at first with no fear
& then with no choice as danger fills the way,
Soaked deep to the bones, soon greeted by our aim,
O perfect precipice, perching beneath the clouds
We pause a fine moment, eyes keen to the skies,
My love, these are the days of our lives,
World-keltering vista… East… West… breathtaking
But rains closing in now, lets begin the descent,
We bare-chested hill warriors in the breeze.
***********
MEALL AN FHEADAIIN
The feather-flux of life is strange in change
Blown zephyr-lite on random, breezy gusts
Or are they more than sheer coincidence
For on the birthday of the lass last loved
The first of hers I’d miss’d in all these years
I found myself alone at Altan Dhu
That treeless heap of heather, sheep & shore
With views to navigate the weary soul
Down wee mad roads to better harbours found
Where, squatting on the spot from far I felt,
Communion with my love-consumptive bride,
Then slipp’d a spot of silver perspective
Into my ain life’s ale, with rapid gusts,
Fair Sally blew the phantoms from my mind!
***********
SKYE
As Kestrels surf the mountain-fring’d spaces
Road twists between saturnine gargants,
Romantic mounds of monstrous magma,
Marvelous munros of aulden minstrel-song,
Lost in the moment, eyes keen to the skies,
Hard traveling unravels, sailing above us
Silver-fire mists of the sylvan alpine rise,
& beyond, entering the stunning scope
Of another planet, another Jupiter,
Sodden expanse of treeless waste,
But beautiful land, stupendous Cuillin hills,
Seats of Titans, where thrusting solar shafts
Induce startling notions of timelessness –
Here there is no time, only milky flowing waterfalls.
***********
SKYE BY NIGHT
The sun has set as steer & stereo
Accompany this mountain clansman land
Being a region ancyent eagles spann’d,
Some stoic slept, some capp’d with blocks of snow…
I found myself on the edge of civilization,
Not Tierra del Fuego or frozen Archangel,
But Portree, place to be, ‘metropolis’ of Skye,
Two thousand Highlanders sheep dip high,
The port seems far too quiet as we are drawn
To a clishmaclaving ceilidh at the Gathering Hall,
“Can we have a drink?” “I’m afraid ye cannae!”
Sally hands me the flyer; 28th annual
Isle of Skye Alcoholics Anonymous gathering –
Tonight’s theme… Tolerance… & the place is heaving.
***********
SHANGRI-LA
Eurasia, Eurasia, from tip to toe
Men may wander thee forever in vain
From the sensuous sierras of Spain
To the towers of spangling Tokyo
Men have stumbl’d thro’ Siberian snow
To the jungles where Ganges parts plain
Enough to send a troubadour insane
For Shangri-La a myth most never know.
Yet here lie the shores of Arabia
& the fjords of the Skull-helms of old
Here an angel-throne’d high Himalaya
& a castle of Prince Leopold
For here be defining Eurasia,
Reminding us with weathers manifold.
***********
NORTHERN SUNSET
As times have swung again to strike the road,
My eldritch muses glean a glint of gold,
Perhaps a mile away, perhaps abroad,
Shall I be searching, still, when I am old?
How gorgeous is the red sun as she sits
Upon the haunch of Hoy, the Pentland Firth
As glass tonight, no epic pitch of wits,
Twyx elements girdling this happy earth.
A bannock moon hangs over John o’Groats,
& Dunnet Head summons us to a path
That leads down from this pinnacle of sorts,
Along the sea-bash’d coast to wylde Cape Wrath.
Where I shall seek out rosaries once more
Tomorrow, yon this dreich Duncansby bore.
(SR) THE GOLGOG OF GLEN ROSA
THE GOLGOG OF GLEN ROSA
Old Malakai pick’d up a knife
& stuck his ‘fucking boring wife,’
Then drove around & park’d the car,
& acted normal in a bar.
He drain’d his glass, he stepp’d outside,
The sea had wash’d up with the tide,
He thought at first to wade within
& cleanse his life of guilt & sin.
He threw, instead, his phone into
Those murky waters, then he drew
All of his wages from the bank,
For seven days just drank & drank.
His wife’s young brother call’d & call’d,
Persistence pains, excuses stall’d,
“I’m coming down tomorrow, man,”
Old Malakai conjur’d a plan;
He’d leave forever Milton Keynes;
A jumper, coat, a pair of jeans,
A t-shirt & a paperback,
Was all his life was, in a sack.
He caught a train to London Town,
The police search’d for him up & down,
He shaved his beard & wore a hat,
Then chang’d his name & found a flat.
He dared not work, nor too far go,
With money on a one-way flow,
It dwindl’d in a dire descent,
Until he could not pay the rent.
Without a hope, without a name,
The killer’s curse a face of fame,
So, off he wander’d to the wild
Of Scotland where the mountains piled.
He found a glen, he built a camp,
The summer short, the autumn damp,
The winter cold, spring barely better,
Wilder, windier & wetter.
Where he will wander all year round,
Still fidgety at every sound,
His hat is torn, his beard is black,
& sometimes, weird, along the track,
He shuffles past the tourists, who
Will look a bit like me & you,
You’ll know him by his lary look,
A monster in a scary book,
That stares at you without a wink,
& as you smell his dreadful stink,
Please, hurry past, no don’t engage,
Else loose that killer from his cage.
For killers kill until they’re caught,
He’ll clamp his hands around your throat
& squeeze until your breath is gone,
Another dead, another one
Has vanish’d in the forest slutch;
A Swede, a German, & a Dutch,
A Fifer from Dalgety Bay,
Don’t be the next one he can slay.
Yes, hurry past, avert your eyes,
For contact makes his fevers rise,
& never slouch a wee look back
For he’ll be crouching on the track,
Drooling at you with sneer’d intent,
A predator whose caught the scent,
Stood waiting for the trigger-glance,
No don’t look back, this is your chance!
Escape, escape, get out the glen,
Catch ferries back, go home & then
Old Malakai push from your mind,
You’ve left that bastard far behind;
Where, mentally he’s masticating
Flesh, & later masturbating,
Over bones where you & me
Might pass into posterity.
Aggravating, agitating,
Malakai stands salivating,
Thro’ the skull-bone of your head
Drills bulging eyes shot bloodshed red.
He’s waiting for your face to turn,
With eyes that bleed, with eyes that burn,
The pull is fierce, the urge is strong,
A thousand thoughts about us throng;
But don’t look back, what e’er you do,
I know you’re really wanting to,
He could be coming now, you think,
Is that his breath upon the brink?
Are those his feet that closer thud?
Are you about to bleed your blood
Within this glen of shallow graves,
Of screams & chases, rapes & caves,
Where Malakai is now Golgog,
The grunt of boar, the face of frog,
The deathless Arran Al-Sameri,
Tortur’d by eternal, dreary
Fate eternal outcasts share,
Like Buttadeus, unaware
Offended Heaven, for all time,
Condemns him to repeat his crime.
& tho’ the cops race oer the wave,
Not one has fac’d his hidden cave
Up on a slope, behind a stone,
That he’ll slide open when alone,
Or hide inside until they’ve pass’d
Police helicopters, as the last
Motions of rotor wane & fade,
He’ll wait until a certain shade
Has cloak the entranc’d, strength applied
Upon that stone, a long slow slide
Aside, then thrillingly emerg’d
A killer to more killing urg’d.
So… Syracuse to Zaragoza,
Never venture thro’ Glen Rosa,
Malakai seeks murders new,
He’s done his wife, now he’ll do you!
(SR) 6: The Lothiad
THE LOTHIAD
Enchanting. It will make a delightful summer capital when we invade Britain
Dr Joseph Goebells
*****
EAST BANK
I found myself alive off Easter Road,
A warm, spring sun lighting this little room
My long muse-lust has left me to afford.
Dust particles danced from the shadow-gloom,
Uprousing me to Reekie’s sweeping streets,
Some orphan up an open New Town flume.
As in me love of sonnetry repeats,
I find a spot three hundred steps away,
Where, from this catalyst, art unsecretes.
For, now, out in the bright spark of the day,
Between these tombs of Binnie, Baird & Burck,
I roam East Bank, with serendips at play,
Knowing this is a place where I could work,
For silent spaces are the makar’s kirk.
*****
SCOTTISH POETRY LIBRARY
As pleasure makes us read & reading makes us know
& knowing makes us sing, & singing makes us grow
‘Tis best to set in store the reliquary of song
A merry house of books which all can march among
To cherish & sustain a native heritage
As Homer heard the tales of Menalean rage
Down here on Crichton’s Close a nation’s soul is kept
The surge MacDiarmid surf’d, the dirges Dunbar wept
Thro’ Scotland’s love of art & Gulbenkian gift
An avalanche of books available to sift
Come pile a table high, as shelf-by-shelf we comb
To find that special verse, or take those verses home
If ever passing by, if under poesy’s spell,
Come pause & swoon & sigh where kindred spirits dwell!
*****
RABBIE BURNS
There is a certain knack to becoming an immortal;
As Orpheus’ heartbeat passes thro’ Pluto’s portal
& Burns arriv’d at Baxter‘s Close, by Lady Stair’s fine house,
Singing of reeking haggises & a wee tim’rous mouse,
When, even on that first mad day, he copp’d a‘gardy-loo,’
Went shit-caked, wand’ring city streets, without a bloody clue,
He knew if he could sing his songs the world was sure to hear,
So, as oor sweet Sordello fell on Johnnie Dowie’sbeer,
With enough space for a fiddle, him just like theArgo’s cox,
He beats enchaunting rhythm thro’ his native tides &rocks,
Eftsoons, at Mrs Carfrae’s door, his destiny wouldstand,
“Your little book of poetry the gossip of the land!”
That night the muse came calling as oor bardie’s pen address’d
Verses to fluff his new edition, both Edina-bless’d.
*****
EDINBURGH ZOO
When Noah’s Ark left two-by-two,
They’d hurry back in if they’d knew
They’d one day end up in a zoo
For all the fucking world to view;
The Wolverine, the Kangaroo,
The Lesser Spiral-Horn’d Kudu,
The Chimpanzees in pirate crew,
The Turacoo of violet hue,
The coarse-quill’d, stiff-claw’d, casque’d Emu,
Flies flocking to the Rhino poo,
The Pygmy Hippo, & what’s new
The Ocellated Turkey too!
I climb the walls, midst human herds,
An Alcatraz of Beasts & Birds!
*****
CRAMMOND
As I burst out of Costorphine Wood in times of rhymes uprising
A little disorientated from that madd’ning mazy hill
Below me, summer farmland, grand in greens & gold unfolding
Down to the Crammond foreshore with her island leaning leftwise
I wander’d with the cyclists, there, the sea-gulls & the dogwalkers
Lit by a misty sun, visible thro a mole’s opacous membrane
& felt a certain freedom beneath the soft calm of heaven
From the stench & detritus of dirty empires in the waters
Mankind is older than the dust of lost forgotten cities
& the monkeys & the dogs & the lizards we all once were
There is a wondrous common-ness to which all creation must answer
A pond of ancient memories, you can hear them in the ditties
Sung by blind bards, & in the Spring when deep down we remember
Being those plants gasping for life across thirsty, frozen tundra
Like a baby turning towards the milky breast of his mother!
*****
STOCKBRIDGE
When standing in Stockbridge the city staccato
Seems quietly distant, as streets of high quality
Are blest with a presence of sensible shoes,
Of ladies of leisure alluring luxurious,
& jolly old gentlemen, & joggers in jewels;
O! Wealth Karlsefinian! O! Pride Carthaginian!
That vision of Raeburn, his mission to build homes
Exclusive, expensive, elusive advantages,
Two gardens to tend to, a postcode of gold,
But built before parking & permits & penpushers,
The mad, modern nightmare the New Town now knows!
To buy such a mansion, price upwards two million
Or more for the glory of lordlier life,
All named after Raeburn’s amazing young wife!
*****
CALTON HILL
I am the Silver Rose,
& with these streets shall fuse,
To etch my gift in rhyme;
The scene provokes the Muse
To join me, for a time!
“THOU ART THE SILVER ROSE
LET US MEET IN THIS CITY
FLESH, BRICK, SKY & OCEAN,
HARMONIOUS, ETERNALLY, NOW!”
Auld Reekie flames my mind,
This heart-pulse of the realm,
In dragon’s furnace born!
With faeries at the helm
By Eldritch dream design’d!
*****
OVER LOTHIAN
We forage up volcanic Berwick Law,
Oer the kingdom of the Votadini,
From gorse-gold mount Lothian’s jewel shore
Curves round the Firth of Forth to Queensferry.
‘Neath rocks of prehistoric pimplerie,
Dunbar, East Linton, Haddington abide,
Fields skiff the sea, while to the other side
Roll lonely Lammermuirs where thought soars free.
& further still, beside the Fifer sea,
The silver streak of Portobello sands,
Leads on to Leith, then inland, shadowy,
Peeps Arthur’s Seat, winking at the Pentlands;
This is the length of Roman Lothian,
A second home my roaming soul hath won.
*****
COUNTRY LIVING
My cities, I leave thee, gritty & grime,
This budding muse prepares the spirit’s ark,
Where bird-migration marks the pass of time
What was lifestyle now grey & stranger-stark.
Like Guernica or Oranges-sur-Seine,
Once vivid colours growing daily dark.
Occasionally owend my thoughts to when
Wordsworth had found a stool to ease his mind
From crowded sensibilities of men
I, too, hope happy harbourage to find
Beside a world of green, where piny glade
By Vallambrosan cardinal design’d
For as Iona’s church from wattles made
The forum for a forest made fair trade.
*****
CARFRAE
When the broad haars uprise t’ward the breadth of the skies,
Looking down from the crown Lammermuirs,
Unseal’d from the mist, like the steel of a fist,
Little Carfrae, like love, reappears!
With the air floating still let your stare catch a hill
& the soft heather thatch of the moors,
Let the clarion wild stroke your soul like a child
As its calling us all out of doors.
Wherever you are, whether near, whether far,
Come & while with a poet today,
Take a drive, make a hike, climb a mile on your bike,
To the magical isle of Carfrae.
All alone, set apart, in the glorious heart
Of East Lothian’s wheat Beaujolais.
*****
A NEW HOME
This land so very different from the map,
Whose shades of green & grey fail to divulge
The beauty of this place I now call home;
“I now call home…” these words unreal to hear,
How many times I sing them to my mind,
If this is so, I must now be prepar’d
For all eventualities life throws,
But balanc’d in my years let fear subside,
My body following its shining soul,
For love has led me safely here thus far,
Where now I feel a Caledonian,
Sent here by love, by love deposited,
Sensing a while of work, so to remain,
As in this place, & time, three things converge –
An art, an artist & his ain heart’s surge.
*****
PRESSMENNAN
Feel the feeling on the edge of summer,
Hours before your first foggybummer,
April, perhaps, or March on a good year,
Out on the tracks with the shy, pregnant deer,
Wearing the hat that you’ve worn all Winter,
Skimming thro’ Plath or the plays of Pinter,
Warming each pace in your courdoroy clothes,
As petals do abud before the rose.
As all at once we lessen from our haste,
& cardigans are tied about the waste,
We feel a spirit stroke the naked arm
A zephyr-waft, so soft, so cool, so calm,
So, this is Serendip’s pastoral muse,
Far from life’s little fish-hooks, & it’s news.
*****
HEATHER LODGE
There was a time I felt compell’d to race
Round London at a hundred miles an hour,
Hopping twixt train & bus; but now my pace
To footstep slows,
For living far away
I notice, now, the needlessness of car
Walking six miles, both to & from Dunbar.
With rent I’ll pay upon my country pile,
I could afford, there, just about one room!
Blessing my zephyr with a certain smile,
Erewhile she blows
Above, the clouds grow gloom…
As, yesterday, I London would adore
Today I wake to walk the Lothian shore.
*****
SUMMER VISTA
Upon the steep slopes of Spott Dod
I sat, observing as a God
Surveys Creation all below,
Thro’ fields reflecting sommerglow
The London train creeps past a car,
The wavy mane beside Dunbar
Grew angel blue, no northern sea
In glassy, grey conformity,
But more an Adriatic Bay,
Ecstatic with this cloudless day
& I, above it, with the sheep,
Some rustic Croat half asleep,
Dreaming where men have rarely trod
Upon the steep slopes of Spott Dod.
(SR) JUNKIE FUCKS
ON
the
JUNKIE
FUCKS
of
LOWER LEITH WALK
He tried to tear the horror from himself,
Searching in the sockets of his eyes with needles
Till they burst blood
The Phoenician Woman
———-
Strophe
There’s a Junkie Fuck
Everywhere you look
: in Leith
Great Junkie Street
Five-minutes-to-midnight
Zombie-crowded cash-machines
Kids like, ‘Where’s-my-crack-pipe?’ Kinnon
Grinnin’ into school
Thinkin’ he was cool
‘I’m never injecting,’ he blusters upsetly
Blazin’ ’bout his Best Friend’s funeral:
At the Wake… to ease his grief… shoots up for first time!
His crack-whore ‘Wudya,’ works Leith Links’s edges
A posh-painted picture pick’d up by drunk dockers
While her daughter chews straws at McDonalds.
There’s a Smackie Kunt
Always on the hunt
: in Leith
********
Antistrophe
There’s a Junkie Worm
Every corner turn’d
: in Leith
The Skag is a slippery, shrieking Beast
Cunning as Fox, strong as Lion
Foul as farting Pig
Don’t listen to what they say, but how they say it,
Bullshit Defence Mechanism takes control
Insidious serpent contorting thought
How the hell can ya call it glamorous?
When glamping means begging up the North Bridge
Contemplating suicide in torn, soggy shoes
Viledom’s finest scourge Leith Walk
Piping, ‘We are young… We can handle it…’
‘…We could drop it just like that.’
There’s a Bag-Head Prick
Itching itself sick
: in Leith
********
Epode
There’s a Junkie Fool
Shuffling past yer school
: in Leith
I was twenty-one once,
Busking down Bournemouth
Boozing wi’ beggars
I’d follow’d ‘em into a nappy-dirty yard
Watching ‘em cook up their hard-earned stuff
& said, ‘I’ll have a go,’ in all innocence
‘You don’t wanna try,’ said Feathers,
‘Do I not?… alright…’ three days later
I found him overdosing in his tent
Never babysit a Smack-Head!
If you show signs of weakness they will take
& scrounge & lie & steal & take & scrounge & take &…
There’s a Junkie Shmuck
Lonely, Soul-less, Stuck
: in Leith
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