I wrote this one on the fly on a disastrous day culminating in an “interesting” gig in Coventry. True story, all of it. Yeesh...
Tinpot Luck
It’s one of those days
Written out like fate
Can’t be anything but late
My only talent is to knock.
And drop.
And break.My confidence unravelled
over every stumble,
Humble, braced, yet
unprepared,
lacking any grace
and out of luck.And just to top it off,
The toilet’s out of paper.
Fuck.
’nuff said.
Written after attending the February “Raising The Awen” - the Love Special...!
If you’re seeking guidance this month,
look up.
Venus lights the sky;
a wet and naked,
full-grown birth set to music,
dancing to the waves’ order.
A name to bind the cruel,
moist, hardening fire;
the dark, organic cleft beneath the
marble lines of Governance.
From this insistent voices issue,
prophesying ivy to twine
around those columns,
birds to nest in gap-toothed roofs,
and those stiff lines softened,
broken and concealed
by weather, theft and newer gods,
whose love is spoken differently.
As you travel, you will find that
Names can be slippery.
Fly North across the iron-cold ocean
Where these waves crash heads and
foam at the lips;
follow Loki’s light -
a spear thrown across the sea
to bring ash and blood spurting
from a lust for gold and screams.
And further yet,
In another country,
that bright, consuming mystery
has yet another name.
For love of freedom,
Lucifer ignites the eastern sky.
