End of a Day

A day comes to its end again
And now it’s time to work the doleful pen
Whether the malaise of a child
Or crowds running wild
The words are never short
This is a fearful sport

The melancholia of music conducts a draft
Of libretti, whilst I sit on this sinking raft
Not even the darkness can hide
The truth, for it’s reach is far too wide
So here comes the sorry story
In it there is no glory

The morning broke afore the light
For me the commencement of my day was night
It seems not even the splendour of the rays
Would materialise to avert the awakening of a critic’s gaze
And there was an immediate reason for my pen to shed blood
The devil, on my very head he stood

What news of slaughter or of famine to whet my appetite
What could be better to examine, careful lest it bite
For morning tunes are misleading
Only serving to delay the bleeding
And once the blue blood makes to start
Caution to the wind and with the words depart

So into the day I came
Another, but not the same
For this was tempered by the drug of sleep
Not efficacious in the night but for now to keep
Massaging with a hand so divine
I might imagine that the touch was mine

Nevertheless my duty was to record
As much gore and misery as I could afford
And there was no shortage for to please
As soldiers, babies, innocents fell to their knees
Imploring with their outstretched arms
That I must diligently record their harms

And so, I tell you, raise all hell in streets
Describe, as I do here, each time a tyrant beats
Make images resound and sounds for imagination to never sleep
Do as I say, lest complacency your fate shall reap
The very agonising experience your fellow humankind does feel
For this is not some dream or mirage, this is real

The day was long and as always grey
Even when the sun does shine, it alone can never clear the way
We and only we are able to make good
To do as righteous men and women should
Take heart though, there is movement in the shade
For even from shadows are souls made

Where did the phrases go, the page might well be blank
Was this a trick of time, a nefarious prank
When I woke, intentions were to solve
The troubles of the world, the human mind evolve
Yet here I sit, merely transcribing verses that are bespoke
Whilst officialdom still has its hands around my neck to choke

And what of you
Or did no reader have the will to chew
These fleeting words, then spit them on the fire
Of vengeance, rebellion, shouting from the spire
My hope is that one set of eyes did read
Result of which this mutiny shall feed

©27th November 2011 Hey Hey

All We Have

All I want to do
is to see the buds unfold
and know I lived another year.
For time is all we have;
not continually as in dreams,
but within this small fragment of forever,
given through grace of being.
Not to understand;
rather to explore
and to empathise,
simply with the way things are.

Looking upon the sky,
I see all I need to know.
Whether in the time of day,
with the clarity of blue
or abstract folds of white.
Else when the sun has past
and celestial acquaintances
beckon surreptitious glances,
lest their secrets be revealed.
For time is all we have
and this is that time.

©2011 Hey Hey

Poème

a tale of trouble
that bursts the bubble
and woe
you know
the kind where
the lover’s tiff
or a dampened spliff
makes days away
too sad to stay

then a dream to comfort me
perspectives to see

a poème for all time
or merely rhyme
to save a soul
take a part and make it whole
but then comes the thought
and once again it’s caught
in a world of word
that is so absurd

how does a communiqué
pave the way
how does prose
show one knows

©2011 Hey Hey

2exist

is life an existential twist
i think therefore am i deceived
do you, or even i, exist
what is out there, how is it perceived

is existence, or non-existence, real
in the mirror, who looks back at the homunculus
does he know how I feel
are there actually only pebbles or really calculus

is sleep the examination to pass before death
halfway between this world and no other
does life stop between each taken breath
how many lives is foetus in mother

to exist is to know that all is unknown
to exist is to recognise that each is alone

©2006 Hey Hey

For this is time

As the abyss seems ever closer
once more comes a calling to
look across the vastness of the past
that makes now seem everlasting
and possibilities appear limitless.
Then the music takes me on a journey
that only life can exclaim,
a passage through wonder
behind closed eyes
with no ticking clocks or rising suns.
Now, in this everland
materialise meaning and contentment,
and with consummation comes
an order of clarification
and an enlightenment like no other.
For this is time,
where’er gentle or wild, ‘tis motionless
as only we know it,
a resting place in eternity,
a present within the continuity.

©2011 Hey Hey

giving

when you’ve visited a star
and seen the earth from afar
you know where it’s at man
so do what you can
take the world in your hand
each and every land
and breath the fire of living
while thinking sole of giving
then as you are absolved
enigmas will be solved

©2011 Hey Hey

Walking

……
When she said that
it was devastating.
Like a cat,
I was merely waiting.
Who’s low?
No,
it’s not the whiskey talking,
it’s me; I’m walking.
These days,
always,
perpetuity,
continuity,
ambiguity,
no acuity.
On the roof was quite.
Maybe I could try it again;
but when?
This is a time to take,
not give.
To make,
and live.
So how?
Now?
Why is it always too soon to make a decision?
Fear of derision?
Some people just go for it.
When things are this shit
maybe a course of action
might diminish
the dissatisfaction.
Start a reaction.
If nothing else, be a distraction.
Help finish
what I started;
satisfy the departed.
But this is me;
free.
I’m mobile,
igile
infantile.
It’s been a while
since the last
discourse.
Of course,
the past
could never last.
……

©2011 Hey Hey

Forever

It seems like forever since
anyone could convince
me that ever began
or there was some kind of plan,
fate-like
or Third Reich;
whatever.
How clever
of a race
to put in place
such complexity
as this ‘time’ with its perplexity.
Let’s look at what transpired
in this universe so neatly wired.
First there was a mind?
Maybe not this kind
but for sure to contemplate
and appreciate
the firmament,
this ether and its full extent,
such grey as could transduce,
and quantify, reduce.
Then a pinch of evolution,
who knows how much to provide an inkling, toward solution?
Remaining as organic will
or necessitating androidogenous pill?
Still, must be a plethora of schemes,
including dreams.
Who cares, so long as means toward the end?
Needs must, then all should blend.
Where stand we now, how far the road to task,
is this the time to ask?
If time should evaporate,
what might be an eventual fate?
Without the now to see,
how could be data free?
Or space,
the place
where lovers state
their bond and procreate?
Is there life without the ticking clock
or view to take the stock?
Perhaps that is how forever hides;
how fate, existence abides.
For sure as futures have disappeared
now into the real, so weird
we go,
our futures show,
or perhaps the past,
apathetically aghast.

©2011 Hey Hey

Smoking jazz

Concluding that days must end,
‘when’ becomes the question central,
my friend,
literal.
“But,” you say,
“days are humanistic,
not deterministic.”
“No way!
Days are here, as fractions of forever.”
“Whatever.
Let’s take one step hither …
Not to dither,
divisional propensity
(Thinks, “Here comes the philosophical intensity.”)
can be physically resolved.”
“Perhaps, for those absolved
of spirituality.”
“So, where do we rest,
in perpetuity?”
“At best,
we have a starting point at now.”
Whilst smoking jazz to allow
thoughts to flow
ethereal,
we know
that nought is material, or immaterial.

©2011 Hey Hey

When The Strength Wanes

Sometimes
The strength wanes
And it’s too late
For the sun to warm
A heart
But the twilight
Won’t go away
So where do you go
What do you do

In the shadows
The music doesn’t stop
Nor the pictures
As a heart
Still beats
And the blood
Still rushes
Though yesterday will endure
Tomorrow must appear

For your light
In the dimness
Makes a whole world
Complete
Justified
The butterfly’s wings
Are you
Forever
Is you

©2011 Hey Hey

minutiae of home

the dazzling days in sparkling sun
of never ending summer fun
or whistling window nights in bed
when covers covered every head

perhaps the drifting supper call
so warm, and comfort in the fall
then times near sleep upon a knee
to hear the words too tired to see

surrounded at the table’s grace
nowhere to turn without a face
of smiling joy, for you are there
time passing slowly, have no care

to fill another boundless tome
wherein minutiae of home

©2011 Hey Hey

come and go

days come and go
though might be long, some never show
and when the covers shield the light
they help attenuate the plight

faces come and go
there will be some you never know
but just one smile can turn it bright
and for a moment hide the trite

lives come and go
most, unlike the breeze will never blow
for wanderers seeking black or white
will often only find the night

sleep will come and go
helping life to pace the flow
and when the noose is feeling tight
come dreams of bliss to put things right

©2011 Hey Hey

of this

not by grand design
nor accident
this sign
could that it paves now the way
for salvation
or simply may
be sent
for procrastination
like the rest
of this
the worst, the best
the piss

©2011 Hey Hey

better good

a smoke, in times of old
large whisky so i’m told
to warm the hearts and minds
to keep the different kinds
but now we have to jibe
at those who might imbibe
a pipe is peace no more
one over, here’s the door
how could the smiling end
and stranger be no friend
why did the rhymester frown
the jester lose his crown
for all, the better good
or maybe we all should

©2011 Hey Hey

for who

to write this song for who
and those they never knew
whilst cycling in the sun
descending, on the run
a dusty sidewalk rest
now see us at our best
two lips became all four
if not of past now sure
a day that was unfair
to those who were not there
the music’s oxygen
no limits, where or when
forever in our eyes
the blue of summer skies

©2011 Hey Hey

midst these icicleworks

this sound
of the wind
in an empty skull
resembles the howl of a wolf
the cry of a life
and when the molecules settle
so time freezes
as does love
in the grey
the gaps
still, might a dream
survive
midst these icicleworks
could the rime layer melt
eyes to see
perhaps for a reason
or given purpose
suchlike hearing
this sound of the wind
in an empty skull

©2011 Hey Hey

the earth is you

waking to an amber morning
and musical smoke
winding the same song
as when we slept
upwards
skywards

the clearest daybreak
through misty eyes
is a rousing dream
of the new
the past in the now
and how

then I saw
a star in the east
but I’m no magus
and you’re no hypnotist
still, wanderer, one thing is true
the earth is you

©2011 Hey Hey

dues

o my friend I got my dues
or did I simply get the blues
perceiving all there was to see
it wasn’t much yet it was me

and so I sit here musing when
it could be soon but transpired then
for more than often laughter said
this is a dream and you’re in bed

but fantasies don’t make it real
that pleasure pal is how you feel
as always though one has no choice
for what you hear is not your voice

thus dues are all you have to sum
counting til the time will come

©2011 Hey Hey

letters

letters from
the kind that bite, the bills, the fright
or those that waste, that have no taste
worse, those that tell of friends in hell
but some might be the very start
of matters pertaining to the heart
letters to
dear sir or madam, pleased to say
i saw your lottery win today
and should you have the spare to share
i too could be a millionaire
‘tis only fair
letters of
announcement conviviality
your presence sunday next for tea
or maybe sit in pews on right
for son at last his troth will plight
but better mend a friendship’s lack
over fine cigars and old cognac
 
©2011 Hey Hey

When your life ends politicians can go to hell

Laying motionless in the heat,
contemplating the psychedelic treat.
Levitating in this darkness; a comfortable room
(that might be a sardonic tomb).

Behind eyelids, a world oblique
has an essence of Angélique,
and shows what could be nature true …
… more colours with each turn of screw.

But as you act, o politician,
prior qualified (smiles) mortician,
the clock inevitably revolves
and no white paper ever solves.

So in this wakeful trance, I race
to find a secret smoking place;
somewhere you cannot legislate,
for wordfullness incarcerate.

Furthermore, should this sanctuary discover,
authority will not prevent my smother,
as dreams are merely in the head
and cannot be misunderstood when dead.

©2011 Hey Hey

Gift of Circumstance

Do the eyes have it, or
do the whys,
when a stare is a question?
Living within a
gift of circumstance,
can there be sincerity,
a credible answer,
or must truth
forever remain opaque?
So the response
should return from eyes?
And thus arises
the infinite reflection
of misinterpretation,
or simply not understanding at all.
Which circumstance
were you gifted?
Is it uncompromising
or did you look out
from your window
to see … that
the eyes have it?
Always the eyes.

©2011 Hey Hey

All

All

When the air that you breath is cold
And the stillness is alive
Are you

Does your essence chill with the night
Or do the stars
Light your fire

Is the rise in your throat
A palpitation of claret hue
Of realisation

Before each blink
Do your eyes catch the psyche
That is all

©2011 Hey Hey

at all

the truth of it, is not
what it seems, this lot
of which i, we, bear witness, cannot
be sufficient to
describe this
moment, that
you
are unable to
appreciate, for
this is mine
my own
unique
experience
implicitly discrete
in no time
without the space to be
yet, here
with me
inside
outside
perhaps
no side
at
all
 
©2011 Hey Hey

The Walk

The walk
Down wake street today
Was cold as ice
With few words to talk
But plenty to pay
Most not too nice

The walk
Down dark street this eve
Was far from starry bliss
Those flashing lights for squawk
And dancers to believe
Or taking the piss

The walk
Down dream street tonight
Was favour in guise
At last gone the gawk
Disappeared the plight
No dealing with lies

The walk
Down life street this ever
Was making the choice
Avoiding the hawk
Circumventing the never
Stifling the voice

©2011 Hey Hey

water

water was were she met her dream
refracting the truth
reflecting the madness
of bygone days

the floating was euphoric
her mind emptied of thought
to become weightless once more
aspiring to be just another void in time

immersion took a while
each inhalation bringing the prospect of relapse
but with the reminder of existence
came a dread of reality

the final breath was liquid purity
captured within the spell of a moment
gone was the insufferable clarity of life
and the cleansing was complete

©2011 Hey Hey

Machine

This funny machine!
I mean!
Nothing is perfect
and although we object,
the nature of existence
is merely persistence.
But nevertheless,
what a mess!
An asshole
next to a shag hole?!
And who would a head make
that suffers from a headache?

This funny machine
is so unclean!
Never mind the stench of death,
did you smell a morning breath?
The beauty through an eye
inflicted with a sty!
One might say
there is no way
that evolution could create
such a being, or even contemplate.
Yet would a god through creation
generate this abomination?

This funny machine
can be absolutely obscene!
With a dangling cock
or tits that rock!
Did you see that toe
through tight pants, you know?
Yet, I can see from a touch
on canvas, so much.
And she reaches the essence
with a note of quintessence.
This funny machine.
Do you get what I mean?

©2011 Hey Hey

In

Is the way out
to drop in, or shout?
Maybe the movie tones,
(the drones),
are ahead of us here
with the favourite genre, fear.

With enemies, who has time for friends?
Enemies, friends; it all ends
somewhere, somehow,
unfortunately never now.
Is making the best
just a test?

In the end, having dropped in,
would dropping out be a sin?

©2011 Hey Hey

Yesterday Is So Close

Strange invaders of my air
They permeate without a care
Their yesterdays are, oh, so close
But time was never this verbose
And waves, they wash upon the feet
Of almost everyone they meet
To cleanse away the dirt with spells
Made liquid gold, the story tells
Look down to see the hex emerge
And not too soon, so close the verge

Strangeness seems the order day
Will someone take the smoke away
As much as we might shout and bawl
Tis wasted, roaring, screaming, all
Opaque will be the norm from now
No-one knowing when, or how
The young, the old, eventually
Some will hear and others see
Yet there he stands, enigma true
Can he be me, can he be you

©25th April 2011 Hey Hey
For Jono

Tough Love

Spring can be tough love,
like waves caressing warm, white sand
but fracturing the backs of the running scared.
And those tentative, fragrant darlings that
break free of encapsulation,
to peek for snow.

This spring is tough love
for black and brown and yellow good nature,
with the world turning too fast.
The hangers on, hiding from debacles,
blame the gods or voters.
And all eyes miss the birth of change.

Another spring of tough love.
Once, the weather was the changing exhibition of
art in the sky and in the soil.
But this time around the paint is tainted and red:
artists run after it in the gutters;
those providing it are very still.

Spring was always tough love.
Some change never changes;
other transformation has a human smile.
So, my love, bring your possibilities
and kiss me, as I ask,
“Where are you summer?”

©2011 Hey Hey

blue dot

another universe in a box
waiting for the clocks
to start
be a part
of a new everything
where they can sing
just one word

it’s not so absurd
to yearn
while the past and present burn

it’ll transpire
(that fire)
like it or not
tiny blue dot

©2011 Hey Hey

Again

A cobalt sky. Without sleep
again.
The silence though, tonight, is unnerving in
its intensity.
How can a cloudless sky have no stars? Where
do they hide? What is causing the silence?
When I look around I see the moon has
been watching me, secretly, strategically.
I know not the plan, nor the reason.
Then the horizon appears. What a surreptitious pair
of enemies
they are.
Illuminated from west and east,
I have to decide how to evade capture by the light.
Else I could be trapped
by night
or revealed by day.
A morning breaks, suddenly,
like an A-bomb,
blinding eyes and incinerating thoughts
of escape
from this wake,
again.

©2011 Hey Hey

Me

See!
This is me.
Not the one who walked down
noisy streets
to the store.
Not the one with the ironed blouse and
white finger nails.
This is the real me.
I used to sweep the path to
my garden
just to smell the sweet night
flowers.
I used to stand,
waiting for shooting stars to
change the
eternal sky.
Now you can know the reality.
When they arrived my
heart missed a beat.
When he arrived a
light appeared
to brighten
even the dullest day.
See!
This is me.

©15th March 2011 Hey Hey

Toast and Jam

Sleeping the world away,
whether night or day.
Desorbing the humour of wars
and Cinderella’s floors,
with dreams of stranger lives.
Outside the fault line thrives.

As she sings me into word,
Awakening seems too absurd
to pass up tales of faces,
smiling, frowning, but still with traces
of what is who I am:
a life of toast and jam.

Then, lonely tears of stir,
incarcerated blur,
define the changing theme.
Things are now what they seem,
without a fix of god.
Run, catch the land of nod.

©2011 Hey Hey

in the squall

when the breath of eve takes your arms
to fly high over the sharps and harms
whisper riddance to the dreams
as the approaching night takes it all, it seems

later, with a crescendo, first the notes
arrives a revelation, a reversal of motes
where the creation of life in harmony flows
then come the lyrical tears, and everyone knows

that there are always new days
whence the fortune stays
as the sunbeams dissolve the mist
and those whose eyes awaken are kissed

by the nature of water and air
and in the squall of this passing fair
who can find a quiet time of love
for both innocence and nightmares shine in stars above

so sing the heavens to those who wait
and become the smallest part in an ultimate fate
of whatever you might believe
whilst striving for such a freedom yet to conceive

©2011 Hey Hey

Incompleteness

These thoughts are forever secrets
and a performance, in confidence,
cannot reveal the existence of this existence.
For the telling is an incompleteness,
merely a fragment escaped,
a means to a beginning,
at best a sincere message
from a dreamer.

And so, these mysterious lyrics
permeate the salubrious aether,
to travel how far, to where?
Then to divulge a half-truth,
or representation,
or model that sits on shadows,
twix black and white,
existence and illusion.

Now, what makes of signs the signatory?
Thinks, “Transmutation in dispatch,
notwithstanding the madness in creation.”
Thus, how might significance be deciphered?
Can uncertainty reveal reality?
Or must infinity embrace even reasoning,
eternity blemish the resolution?
These thoughts are forever secrets.

©2011 Hey Hey

Winter

Not to forget winter
Who took sensation to a new low
And blackened the life
That smiled at your bitter, white caress

Thank you for the grey days
Of skeleton trees
And the lingering nights
Of stone faces
The thumping iron
And shattered bones

However
Degrees are now tempted to reveal

But for some (of us)
There will be forever twilight

©2011 Hey Hey

Game

This game
This real world
Of yours
Timeless in its ending
Frameless by its limits
Painted, so bizarre
By the very hand
That would be free

A spell
For such liberty
From whence to here
Will fractured dreams release
More grey than sanctity
Bestowed in stars

©2011 Hey Hey

counting

as you count
the stars
in the sky of another year
does the firmament
hold less
or more light
than recollections, pictures of
eyes-closed bliss
the stillness of
dreams
and faces
their lips (their voices)

as you count
the misplaced days
perhaps discovered
in the journal of another youth
reflected
from white space
or snowflakes, or sand
where eternity resides
where does the truth (the chapter)
begin
where do the numbers
end

©7th December 2010 Hey Hey

photographs

when you look from your tranquillity
what do you see
does it make words worth singing
love worth living
life worth giving

so to gaze
reflections of whoever’s ways
do breath the air
that lives could share
send hearts to bear

here are the days, laughter and blue
just passing through
a spell, a rhyme
this mountain to climb
the gift of time

one day, might look so high
consider where and why
and absorb the years
know this disappears
wipe the tears

©27th November 2010 Hey Hey

that sparkle in your eye

though that smile
is your joy
and the stillness
is your peace
the fire
is that sparkle in your eye

though the answers
are perplexing
and the reasons
so surreal
the enigma
is that sparkle in your eye

though your journey
seems so far
and the path
of elusive fare
the reward
is that sparkle in your eye

though changes
are the cost to live
and each day
brings its different trials
the constant
is that sparkle in your eye

©20th November 2010 Hey Hey

secrets in tinderboxes

where goes the unmannerly world of days
and how did the masquerade begin
might beauty have unseemly ways
be gold a mere vermeil herein
has time an essence or is memory staid
can hunger hone an edge on passing plight
when gone the stage where be the role played
will all of this revealed, an alchemist’s delight
should quicksand take creation, reabsorb
could cycles reinvent what once was true
or do all motes remain the secrets of this orb
in tinderboxes, held against their will, like you

©17th November 2010 Hey Hey

narrative

with a fresh quill
dipped into the ink of my life
heavenly red
turned into worldly blue
to compose
a story of warmest sand
in sparkling sun
of the highest midday

here
chapters surrender
light to cobalt
where moon and dreams
unite as love
a singularity
without contemplation
or endeavour

and mindful
that fiction does not end
a solitude, perplexed
is future
without reason
maybe satisfaction
can be words
as generations pass

©2010 Hey Hey

20anddead

a singalong, a mantra
a taste, with added extra
of this life, of now
but better and how
whether moon or sun
can be sad or fun
open top or cycle
michele or michael
water or wine
raining or shine
scientific, maybe soul
reality or perhaps role

a singalong, a mantra
pavaroti sings sinatra
here, there, everywhere
take it easy, what’s to care
just this
with nothing amiss
curved downwards or on the rise
make a face, look at the skies
where did it go
everything, you know
could be 20 and dead
how about here instead

©2010 Hey Hey

shadows

shadows can be illuminating
as illumination might be wearing
for the wealth in contemplation
whilst photon depleted
can be colourful
if not overwhelmingly
lucid

shadows can be unambiguous
as ambiguity might be stifling
for the clarity in definition
whilst in darkness
can be untainted
if not of idyllic
purity

shadows can be heavenly
as perdition can be singularly confining
for the vision of naught
whilst in ecstasy
can be cosmological
if not synonymous with
freedom

©1st October 2010 Hey Hey

no straight edges

there are no straight edges
and the liquid life
descends tortuously
by orchestras of hearts
beating rhythms of now
while raindrops fall through parched air
to quench the very time
and wash all past away

there are no straight edges
when a knife
cuts tempestuously
and the breath departs
as fast as humanity can allow
but can an accelerated demise forfeit the aware
avoiding the psychology of crime
if hereafter is at play

there are no straight edges
when paroxysms are rife
and never a harmoniously
calculated sum of the parts
for reality to endow
yet the curvature of a opportune affair
could be such an onerous climb
that the preference might be to stay

©25th September 2010 Hey Hey

for those

for those smiles
that were so in your eyes
at the time


for those whispers
that were so clear
at the time


for those moments
that were so real
at the time


for those times
that were so short
at the time


for those


©2010 Hey Hey

no-one knows

no-one knows

the you

knows

how you tell the sun to shine

and warm rain

to bathe the summer

no-one knows

your eyes

when

the snow falls

and the child

smiles the cold away

no-one knows

your dreams

songs

of magic and tranquillity

when angels listen

and I wonder

no-one knows

©15th August 2010 Hey Hey

eulogy for the past

the souls of freedom
are in temporary guise
seen through a window of opaque rhetoric
as though miming
a sad eulogy
for the past


but playing like the dead
is no solution
rather, a distraction


so up you cowards
in awe of illumination
take the helm
course the journey
from perplexity to enlightenment
save the route
protect the words
for they are
the mere
saviour
all we have


©14th August 2010 Hey Hey

The Purpose

Of a canvas
That to seek the white employ
Has become so arduous
Though ever still a joy
More, while rainbows merely arch
The beauty is unexpected skies
Or land will green
Else, filled with time in guise
Ephemeral, as might blink an eye
Tis gone
No matter how can breath be held
The fever of to look upon
Is all should need, encompass
The purpose


©26th July 2010 Hey Hey

clarity

the music of a long passing waits in dark corners

of a shallow mind

where forgetting could be so easy

but consequently unkind

and as high clouds

slowly paint the abstract story

of another day

hence comes the night in all its starry glory

with icons to fill the celestial stage

and a blushing moon

who stares upon your sleep

his face in dreams too soon

now consolation is the sweetness of the song you hear

for in your trance the words are ever clear

©23^rd July 2010 Hey Hey