TAKING MY FATHER AT GUNPOINT 6AM

 

Dripping Taps | Sound Effect

A dripping tap started 

meditation by 4am

interrogation 

PAINTED BEFORE STROKE

ALIEN

Moon landing on tv

British tanks on the street-

red blue green gold paint

blue beyond blue

 

 

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. 

        MY FATHER FORGOT HOW TO CRY

 

SUNDAY MORNING

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.

ME 1969

NOAH GRANDSON 2021

SUNDAY MORNING

 

painted before stroke

before I saw natural stone

repeat repetition

I brush the soiled tears

from your eyes and you wake-

glistening in mine

Stace could undertaker

create something like this?

my hands are cold

RAW

Black Friday, ashamed kill

Rittenhouse, school killing 

labinjo humanity. Why is

life so cheap?

Before my head hits

The pillow I mouth the man-

tra I- am ness

 Stephanie you live

                         in me, beauty is in-

                                                    eye of beholder

I need a ringpiece

To levitate me of 

the bed, do donut

 

Oh-Micron-

          ology, a watchmakers

      timepiece-countdown

Woe be gone, woe be 

tide, betide of woe 

begone inside.

Get off your high horse

of capitalism speak to

 me of humanity.

'finding yourself in a hole,at the bottom of a hole' in almost solitude, and discovering that only writing can save you.

 Poems, dreams, realities

      I wrote them before my feet

           hit the ground.

A SHADOW OF MY FORMER SELF

I’m going black into myself, I've been

On Gaia, Curiosity stream, Prime but

Nothing catches my mind's eye.

My long-term memory was wiped-

stroked out.

I am trying to remember something

that I cant see, I suffer from aphasia,

Aphantasia.I hope that you can make

me out, a shadow of my former self.

I have written this before but 

in a different vein. I’m like a junky

Chasing life that's beyond me

Shooting up to get down. Some-

times I remember being in a place

that I cant see, no hollo-gram.

There is no projection not even

a Mickey Mouse sketch.