Pixie Haiku

Naked upon the blue dawn
pixies tread with the
willowsome clods of grey air

Ripe armpits, laughter and dancing

Light, happy, peaceful Shakti
Round off a painting with
the beating of tabla,
the trill of the violin,
acoustic guitar, birdsong,
a thousand hare krsna's
to the guiding light of the moon
This will I do, as well as
the hoovering and garden
How to find the sacred feminine
light in a sea of flags and sausages
I envisage lettuce and spinach
with your gorgeous dressing
This poem dressed as a pet cat,
when the time is right...
Your ripe armpits refreshed
My hippiness gradually returning
Now I'm rambling but
I love you my gentle rose
My painting nearly complete
I hope it transcends
the everyday rumble of the household
You are my steady shakti squeeze
I'll squeeze you til the sun goes down
And I go down
The love I speak of with my tongue
touches your sweet yoni
And, like the eloquent words of the guru,
my mouth shall give you comfort

Leather Jacket

Puddle running runnels
grass stretched out
meandering with the trees
I sit in the morning sun
on a bench in my leather jacket
an ant walks up my leg
a robin lands near
then spicks away
the beatific vision already
this morning
the sun in an oily puddle
on Christ's pieces
young mum's walk past with prams
a man sits reading his paper
the council man sits mowing the grass
wafting sound to and fro
birds hoot and sing
and I wait for Auntie's Tea Shop to open

Celestial Showers...

My cock's wet from your mouth
You sit on my face and I can see into your eyes
Last night you had two orgasms
I heard your pussy squelching in the night
as I entered you
I came too, in between yours
You know just how to tease
the juicy loveseed from my loins
We recline, immortal lovers
satisfied again
A thousand kisses and then and thousand more
Sweet perpetual flavours of you
in my mouth, on my tongue
I love you and your blissful ways
I will always speak
eloquence of your name
Sadie.... Sadie....
Sadie... Sadie...
I come inside you,
an unseen spirt in the universal tao
Your pubic hair rubs against my belly
and we lay together,
our nature's intertwined

Pylons

Angels over the Westcountry
The tide waning
It wants to wane
A weakening before it strengthens again
Cows foretell the whispering velvet monogamy
Secrets kept in a box of mohogany
Noble house, unkempt bay window
A view of ancient druglike hedge
Rare golden bird nesting
in Shiva's painted blue den
Solid foundations, wrought iron
industry fades in
A TV flickers image noise on the train
silence while we stop and regather
I bring myself to see the zen in these bolts
People in the station
The whole holy whirl of weekend colour
Artist friends gathered to combine energies
Indigo massive girlface
Whitman and Ginsberg represented
My Madonna and Child a curtain of violet purple orange
Sigils for a better life for mine own
England I'm not sure if I love you
I feel the call of India in my loins
Together we will revolutionize
dinner party valley
Return O Goddess to your chosen land!
I am an Arthur of old
Making my way thru this island
I will plant my sword in the earth
and shout to the gods
Only Buddha responds with a single word
for it seems pan is gone,
his flute rarely heard in the goat meadow now

- on the train from Bristol after Upfest June 2010

Obsidian Giraffes

Obsidian giraffes
all and sundry array
of holy socks in CB1 garden
She reminds me to
reach my hand to the
papered smoke stick
India virtues
hot orange

Sadie Slightly Imbibes

Sadie slightly imbibes
gentle words from my mouth
Tit-suck - she jumps on me
poetry and cock play
Canoodling whimsical pixies
scatter oblique tantras
on the grass for the
cleaner to mop up
I Ching greatness of the
pine leaf sage
Mountainous region of
the Netherlands
The aging process you defy
Your childlike nature returns
Now to Grantchester with you!

The Metamorphic Gardens

Once every two weeks
wolves ponder the existence
of middle-class emos
how they hide behind
shades of green-tangerine
The metamorphic gardens
Tantric wet corridors
Utmost salvation, Karma
I believe in you

All is Change

All is change. I know that everything is going well for me at the moment. I know that in the future it may not go so well. That is the nature of life. I know that in the face of my potentially impending death (I might die tomorrow) nothing really matters. The thing to do is to not worry about the square world., just deal with them peacefully and patiently. Don't cling, for all is change. The river keeps on changing and is always different. It is linked to the wild vast silent ocean of freedom that is one brahman soul. You are that and more. The Universe in fact! My purple shirt and orange beard sings in the window. These dynamic patterns of change are my cool blue waves. But I am also the red scorpio king capable of creating irresistable passions. I bring her hot yoni alive and she is all for me, as I want her. Her divine body, her smooth skin. Her sacred mouth is mine to kiss. I am all for her forever. I am kindled to her heart. I will keep her warm. She melts my ice and turns me to indivisible water, which she catches on her tongue and swallows. A part of me she has drunk and I stay, in her body, in her memory. She dressed in finest cotton saying she loves me and she means it. Do I love her? Is this what love is? I would surrender my utmost to her as I have done before if I would not lose my mind again. Even that it seems I am not afraid of. Only that we'd be parted or that she'd cheat. Be faithful o queen of my heart and you will see the realm of true happiness. Together we will radiate beams of love from our hair and others will yearn to know it. Love is in your come (comb). You have it dutifully in your artmaking hands. You the creator and I the creator. Both with a vast power we don't even realise and certainly don't dwell upon. To create and nurture and liberate sensibly. Not to hurt and destroy. Sometimes the beauty is too unbearable. Rising violins fill the azure sky with hope for the future, for you and me. The sunset melts betwixt our eyes and emerges a vision of our eternity, if you want it xx

The Divine Seed

Wagneresque outpourings of tears.
Violin symphonies. A stone pathway.
Blue water. A sacred flame turning nonchalant.
Walt Whitman in Grantchester.
Dappled sunlight.
The voice of a learned man.
Religious virtue in nature.
The middle way of buddhism.
A lover's ecstatic face during sex.
The spilling of holy loveseed.
Cottonmouth. The sacred pipe.
All the rivers of the world.
Aboriginal music and paintings.
LSD. The Word. John Coltrane. Pompeii.
Illuminated manuscripts.
The cold side of the pillow.
Sand mandalas. Blek's Sybille.
The Sistine Chapel. Cats.
Santana in a caravan. Jesus.
Narnia. Eden.
Shiva and shakti forever merged.
The present moment.
Blake's eternity.
The Universe.
Deathlessness.
Gaia. The green earth.
India. Nice people. Festivals.
The ozric tentacles. Strawberry Fair.
Windmills. Blue feathers. Life.