The stream (all workshops)
HAGGIS HORROR by Ian Thomson
My Love and I went hiking on the slopes of dark Ben Down,
Thick mist descended, we got lost, strayed off the path to town
My heart near stopped, as through the murk, I heard an off- tune whistle.
The chilling sound as bull Haggis played pibroch on a thistle.
Self seeks expression
Like our oil flow station
Connected to a reserve
Refineries meant to serve
Suffered serious sabotage
Locked and neglected
Dust speaks for the rejected
Our resources misapplied
Hardship thus multiplied
With tests, temptation and trials
Turn on the safety valve
Let crude from the other half
Be refined by the essence
That which gives us presence
To exist and be who we are
Just for now, don’t let the world escape,
Reach out; don’t worry about the mistakes,
Think loud, but don’t lose your mind in the fray,
Don’t be afraid, the worlds supposed to be this way,
And everyone knows it’s an incredible game,
So put a smile on your face,
And keep your head held high, so the waves won’t take you away,
And if you need advice then it’s okay, so does everyone else,
And if starts to rain, don’t leave right away,
But just for now,
Don’t let the world escape.
The night the sky opened and
angels fell to earth
I was dreaming an Alligator dream.
I have to write this down before I forget
my opening line and the dream eats me alive.
I have to wear the black-lace wings of poetry:
to lift me from the mushroom of perception
and the crater of depression,
not that they happen to happen with any regularity,
though the moon turning on my dime
brings out
the beast in me
bleeding with an elusive prey that
I think, looks more and more like me.
Religion, Science and God!
We all are entitled to our views,
Though evolution,
As a part of science can't be overruled,
It is as much essential
To keep integrated
And
As human beings,
We all can't do away
With God nor Religion
Nor do I want to be isolated
I respect all religions equally,
So no one can call me
An atheist nor irreligious,
Nor only scientific
A juggler of
Science and religion
Perhaps I may be.
There's trouble brewing in the bushes
Green foliage fading around the edges
Leaves turning brown, eaten through by insects
On the other side, flush green grass grows
Oak and pine stand tall among the fruit bearing vines
And I peer into the unknown, unlike my own
Some imply grass is not greener on the other side
It may be a mirage in the desert of my trials and endeavors
But, the grass really is greener
The "high-a-load" phrase is a play on words. "Hyaloid" means transparent which I was when stoned out of my mind.
It’s forty years ago this fall Ford made
a Maverick of a car that I would own.
All baby blue before the rust was laid,
the poor thing never once a bath had known.
It could not move on tires with deep tread,
so I saw fit each one would show some steel.
I often filled them sheltering my head
prepared for high explosive as I kneel.
I caught you in my gravity
that summer many years ago
like tides capture a restless sea
and you've yet to let me go
Elliptically our journey started
we'd nearly touch then draw away
yet we never really parted
I wonder why you chose to stay
Now, over time, our orbits grew
to a perfect circle, pure
a binary system me and you
destined always to endure
Until now, still, here we are
separate from the galaxy
as we circle our own star
the way which it was meant to be
another morning bird
calling to dragging
again
shoulders to knees
creak like long timber
leaves like toes
rustling under sheets
here
squint squint
the street light
peeking thru the
blinds’ own missing teeth
balls sagging low
asshole stinking sweat
vinegar and shit
radiate me
but, time,
showers seem
unimaginable
tedious
like brushing
teeth
or finally living
alone
A thousand images this day reflect
Once gone in a simple tear,
I ponder what is left.
On what line do you stand?
In what truth do you believe?
On this day I find it to be
One simple moment in solitary.
In time hallways will grow old,
The park bench stretching so long,
The days seem so cold.
That simple tear not so simple,
A thousand life times inside
Four seasons sit within,
To the demons I can only confide.
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