Asphalt [poem]
It seemed just like a scar
but it was just another
bump in the road.
Asphalt is like that —
(so my road has said
with deadly accuracy)
— inconveniently
melting through the
dissipated heat of
wasted passion into
dangerously delightful
suddenness of flight.
Blindsided by my
worthless dreams
and schemelessness
(despite the wounds)
I’m getting used to
trembledom of night.
Lord Greville protected from Prosecution
Some Paradoxical Words about my Personal Experience
TODAY, SOME PARADOXICAL WORDS ABOUT MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCE. It was going to be a 3rd person poem but it’s come out in a more prosaic manner. To some, these words will seem crazy. To others (maybe just a few — maybe none at all!), they will ring so true that bells will peal in your hearts. It is with you who I share them for your encouragement.
The Rocket & The Simulated Door [poem]
As I made my weary way across the cosmos
[may the reader glean the mystery here],
my rocket engines getting past their prime
(for I had travelled far and wide and rocketed
through many gruelling rides, though here
I don’t think I’ll confide in you them all),
I’d contemplated putting into scrap (and thus
I’d forfeit too my journey back) my old
fatigued titanic frame and would no longer
be linked up with other craft and astr{a}nauts
(or so I, at that wretched time, had thought).
Philophobia [sonnet]
Fear of falling in love is now the weft
and woof of life within this broken world.
Responsible for frozenness and theft
of hearts, on which its bitter gall is hurled.
The Missing Jewel [sonnet]
Some years ago a stone fell from my ring
(and all because there was no setting there).
It somehow balanced on the goldsome thing
all by itself, until the ring was bare.
<!–more Continue reading…->And so I’d lost the stone (it seemed back then).
But even though it disappeared from view
I knew it would be found (though just not when).
The whole event was swathed in déjà vu.
It may seem strange (it came as no surprise)
when some years later, by the frozen food,
that missing gemstone danced before my eyes —
exquisite in its sparkling pulchritude!
I fastened it with ardour on the band.
Its light then filled the void upon my hand.
© Alan Morrison, 2015
The Girl on the Quayside [poem]
She was naught but a girl of fifteen;
her skin was like porcelain unstained.
Her heart filled with delicate dreams;
her fantasies bred unrestrained.
As she lay on her mattress at night
(the moon and the stars in her bed),
no inkling she had of the plight
which would one day engulf her ahead.
Ride my Heart
I INVITE YOU TO RIDE MY HEART TODAY on a wave of contemporary folk. Click on this link to listen to the entire title track of my 2010 album. https://soundcloud.com/alan-morrison/ride-my-heart . It’s about a couple who have made a pact that wherever they are in space, time and history, if one of them dies the other will join them. Alan Morrison on acoustic guitar & vocal, Emeli Jeremias on cello and Johan Ahlin on French horn. Produced by Lasse Englund in Sweden.
To say “No”
ONE OF THE GREATEST LESSONS I have learned in the last 6 months is to say “No” to (and walk right away from) things which — though they may glitter and appear superficially attractive — I discern to be at best worthless (of no real value), at worst potentially destructive. I’m speaking here not only about material acquisitions but also about relationships with people. This has been liberating and I would recommend it to all without hesitation. With practice, it gets even easier. However, it should not be used in a cavalier or whimsical way but with discretion, as something serious and life-enhancing. Be prepared, though — in terms of the direction this world is taking — to end up with nothing (or next to nothing) and no one (or almost no one). 😉
A Stain upon the Sun [poem]
One siren sunrise, when all was seeming well,
a shiverness within my limbered hull
was sounding off with bells — a death knell
tocsin making every atom of my heart
stand to attention while their goosebump
broken hairs stood on their ends in sympathy.
The Naked Troubadour 