Month: Oct 2011

Love Should Be [poem/sonnet]

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love_should_be

Love
[I mean the full real thing
not some bland and pale
embellishment
with little mutual
relishment or one
wherein there is no heat
or where blood runs
through cold blue veins
or where unequal
treatment reigns
or where somehow
with clanking chains
such fetters mean that
passion wanes or where
there is deceit and guile
so naïve hearts are
crudely wiled away
like wood is whittled
knifely deeply down
to pieces on the floor
so separately they lay
togetherness no more]
Love I say
should
be
1
l
o
n
g
orgasm
of
everything
[by which I mean that there can be no trace
of compromise in any words or deeds;
no turncoat treason acts of ‘about face’ —
its garden sown with flowers (pluck out the weeds).
Full truth transparent is my battlecry
against all dull concession trade-off pacts
with all the forces massed to sell the lie
which from our fervent destiny distracts.
For how can heights which we profess to know
become a less-than-blissful dream fulfilled?
To go to higher peaks will mean to grow
if on our frail foundation we will build.
I will not have my love served up lukewarm:
To ecstasy alone will I conform!

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Gymnasium [poem]

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gymnasium2

I’m not a gymnasium, she said,
as my body moved with litheness
round her icy rigid form
on that well-sprung soya bed;
her hoity-toity voiceness
making echoes in my head
(And then the bridge
between the wetness
withered down
in shock(ness)
as my brain sent
vibes of mourning to
my sorry little cock).

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That Sacred Day [sonnet]

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that_sacred_day

When in those haunted corridors you hide
wherein you try to make another plane
the quest for truth can glibly be denied
and only fantasy and guile then reign.

You cast around to hear approving sounds
while compliments are lavished on your name
and fawning strains from courtiers abound —
just slivers from your broken mirror’s frame.

But, darling, let me whisper in your ear:
You need not confirmation’s bogus show;
for all the love to fast remove your fear
is right here in this starstruck Romeo.

I wait with patience till that sacred day
when all pretence dissolves and fades away.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Arcadian Streams [sonnet]

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arcadian_streams

Will waterfalls of swell soon give me rest?
Or must I ever sink in lakes and streams
which run like blood that never coalesced
and flow from my red eyes’ Arcadian streams.

A swimmer’s arms I had — or so I thought —
until that deadly current washed my flesh;
and all my loving energies did thwart
when I was in its siren weeds enmeshed.

If only reaching hands would pull me clear
I’d fling myself up to those arms with fire.
We’d then be hurled into the stratosphere
evaporating seas with strong desire.

Although I yearn to drown in salty deeps
a dim and glimly hope from Lethe me keeps.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

The Law of Burdens [poem]

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the_law-of_burdens

Every burden not picked up
at this stage on the road
if picked up later down the track
becomes a heavier load.
That’s a basic rule of life
which many do ignore;
and I myself have walked away
from weighty loads galore.

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Tornness [sonnet]

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tornness

Being apart is what tears us apart
and torn apart we spill ourselves to earth.
Kicking below on the ground broken hearts;
forgotten is the price that true love’s worth.

As ripped and shredded clothing flew around
disguises then emerged among the rags;
while masquerades which camouflage rebound
and in our hands were posies and white flags.

But even though that desolation reigned
for such brief time as our fool flesh allowed
continuance was never foreordained —
to tear us more we quickly disavowed.

If we will now abandon all our fears
the tornness of our love will heal through tears.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

Outsider [sonnet]

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outsider

Some people are destined to be alone.
Like it or not they wander through the earth
as flotsam at sea — kings without a throne.
Naked they stay as on their day of birth.

Preordained as pilgrims of the planet;
gathering wisdom from wounds which won’t heal.
Writing their runes on great slabs of granite;
secrets of heart to the world they reveal.

Yet even though they walk a rough-hewn road
and have no shelter from life’s raging storms
a dignity of sorts will be bestowed
to comfort them to live outside all norms.

On mountaintops (despite their scene remote)
they keep their equilibrium afloat.

© 2011, Alan Morrison

I Never Loved Like this Before [poem]

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i_never_loved_like_this_before.jpg

I never loved like this before.
Never been
first
a shooting star
and then
a globule on the floor.
Feelings all mixed up
and blackened and
wrapped around
barbed wire and
flattened and trampled
and strung out and
stretched into break point
with bounteous ardour
(but yet I confess that
I can’t live without her)

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When you Said [poem]

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when_you_said

When you said “I’m yours” I
never knew that, crouching on
all fours, I’d have to beg to know
the truth behind that clause

When you said you’re mine I
never saw, as one more in
your line, I’d soon receive
the lie which broke my spine

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Somehow I doubt it [poem]

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somehow_i_doubt_it

Did you find a measure of space in the kinks —
some ardent pasture where the stink of
untruthness doesn’t breathe its wasted
jinxed and messed-up methadone madness?

Somehow I doubt it

Can you see by the trail of slime in the wake
of the thousandth time you pulled the wool
over naive eyes that everything has
consequences even all your denying?

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