Many Miles

edging very slowly
sideways
over great clods of earth
twigs, gravel, spilt cooking oil

huge stress
small crab
many many miles from the sea

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fighting

for the answers to hidden questions

sinking into paranoia

mouth twisted tight

body taut

whilst every moment

desire stampedes through me

unable to play

unable to pretend that your refusals don´t affect me

getting younger by the minute

soon to be

a mewling, pulling baby

a shell of one who once was

or

who once thought he was

somebody, something

HOW NOW ?

how now
little martin cow ?
whaddoido ?

twenty years and more
i was in your clutches and in your bed
yesterday you opened the fingers of your hand
waved me away
closed the bedroom door
telling me i can go now

my heart
my heart of different ages
guardian of my times
my heart that keeps time
and no landslide ever blocked the river
my heart that i have from my mother
keeps on
kicking, shouting punching
running, riding, rolling
beating out
my very own martin blues

THESE MANY LONG YEARS

was it gross misfortune
or luck streaming in like the sunshine
a gift from the heavens
whilst shiva´s back was turned
or a complicated curse of sticky webs and poisonous spiders ?
good or bad ?
right or wrong ?
whatever !
you have had your ragdoll
and he has had you

I / NOT I

these days ebbing and flowing
me inhaling and exhaling questions and answers
diaphragm rising and falling
the sexual pulse
happiness, anti-happiness
lightning flashes of violent anger

i stand back
jaw aslack
i stand back
concerned and consternated
yes ?
well, i don´t know
i´m just a kid from sutton
fingering the panic button

REAL LIFE

endless whining lines
through years of tears
it´s simple though
they own you
they own you
they control your driving wheel
make you shout and squeal

if that´s what you want
if that´s what you really want
just keep on keeping on

IN CORDOBA IS A WATERWHEEL

they speak of rogue states, feral youth
and further words of an age
the programme features
nuclear and environmental catastrophes
economic blizzards
drones and the four riders

my simple sexual desires
make me unexceptional
just a man-child
cock-a-rising
in cordoba is a waterwheel
we fetch water, the sun sets
and desire is the only constant