Month: Sep 2014

Mixed Metaphors, Part 1 [sonnet]

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That sleeping serpent coiled around my core
was startled into pristine wakefulness,
at first by one brief glancing eye unsure
and then another which removed the guess.
Then soon the honeyed knife — whose blade’s so sharp
that one can never know has entered in
till after it has found its purposed mark —
had pierced that scaly flesh, was deep within.
But yet this time I felt it carve right through;
as if a jolly butcher with a smile
and ruddy cheeks had cleared a way to you
and there you stood before me, clear. No guile.
So now that knife must cut a bloodless trail.
The blade of love that footpath will unveil.


© Alan Morrison, 2014

More than Homeless

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Just came upon this human being on a main street in Steglitz, Berlin. Hundreds of well-dressed shoppers walking around him. Surreal. I burst into tears with sorrow and outrage. No one should have to live like this. Ever. It will be down to 8C at night next week. Yeah, I know, people have emotional problems, etc. But my first instinct is always to protect and defend the underdog. My tears were also because of a feeling of total helplessness. I wish I could round up every human in the world like this and nurture (love) them better. But we’d probably need our own big country as the number of people would be so huge. (Hmm… come to think of it, I might be joining them in one week if I can’t find somewhere to live when my current abode finishes!). I saw a guy outside Starbucks near Potsdamer Platz in a terrible state. Filthy, deathly pale, skinny as a stick and worn down. He must have been about 20 years old. I said to him “Wait here. Don’t go away”. I dived inside and bought him the kind of lunch I would have liked and gave it to him. He began to cry mournfully. Turns out he’s a junkie. I talk to many homeless people and they all have a story. Life is a bitch and then you die. Without a roof really is the most rock-bottom place to be in life. They aren’t just homeless. It’s more than that. They are without shelter, having lost all hope and living in shit — literally, if you look at the guy’s “blanket” in the photo. Everyone needs some defensible space. Maybe we should try and find that big country to live in (or should it be planet?). Maybe I should organise a benefit concert for the homeless. Now there’s an idea. Anyone care to join me in that?

Equinox [poem]

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as summer dies so beauty fully
with that sigh (sforzandolike)
and autumn’s golden smirk
falls silently as homeless leaves
drift rocking side to side and down
to earthen featherbedly endofride
i smile through tears which mingle
with the lightsome lazy mist of dawn

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Free to Dream [sonnet]

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“You’ve no ambition”, said the shrillsome voice.
“You’re lacking gumption, drive and raw desire.
Where are your savings, car? You’re spoiled for choice
to make yourself succeed; yet you lack fire”.
That’s what they’ve always said, as I recall.
At school I stared through windows for the joy.
The pictures in my mind, my waterfall;
how strange these things so many should annoy.
Yet, if we just seek stuff to have and own
and only want the things which we can touch,
when we have lost our flesh, we’ll be alone;
for there we’ll take no prop or earthly crutch.
The things they want are not what I esteem.
For all I want to be is free to dream…


© Alan Morrison, 2014