British tanks on the street-
red blue green gold paint
A VIBRATION OF LIFE ( ALAN WATTS )
A boy creates his own east,
publishes it aged fifteen.
Through Christian dogmatics,
Hindu mythology, Buddhist
Psychology, zen practise being
a Tao positive flow state wavering
towards a centre. One man weaved
like tapestry inhale exhalation in a back-
words law giving to get. A poet of all
these doctrines and more that add
up to humanity.
No one will ever touch that humanity
who seen through the veil of religion
to flow like water does flow, this man
Won’t ever be rivalled spoken a true human
being that should be a global force.
What more can one say, go with his flow.
Belfast 1970, grey sky hung
mucus of tar, the scent of hatred
and spent shells residue.
A woman loved for a moment
by the enemy, cried like a gull
embedded in an oil slick, somewhere
off the coastline of my heart.
The etched guilt of a one night stand
tied to the lampost. Some men
passed wrenching Traitor, Slut, Cunt,
and greenhorns from their throats.
That slithered on the black tar
of her breasts, seeping into
the feathers of her heart.
