Poetry

Falling

In England the leaves are turning golden brown
And falling, falling
Your beautiful towers are twisting
Lovers are falling, falling
We want to put our arms around you.
To put our arms out to save you.
Flight path, flight path, flight path
Passenger prisoners smash
The building walls agape
Twisted metal arrows, shattered dreams

A blast of hate, the centre is falling
Its all too appalling
A massacre of innocence
All our passion, tears and love
All our prayers unanswered

The dust is settling of the flowers
Petals falling, falling
America in mourning, dreams are falling
Eros, far too late (tears are falling)
Give thanks for those who did escape.

And When

And when the Golden Age comes
All the treasures of the Earth will be in abundance.
Man will replace the fallen angels
Fulfilling their sacred destiny.
All the great Gods and deities will then
Walk and talk together on the 'Jewel'
And all will be well.

Graham Peter Metson. 01/02/13

Abstract

Orange singing in the rain
Crystal eyes that explain
Passions that fan the flame.
Shapes that drive you insane
Sounds from heaven
Things you can’t explain.

Abstract for change
Everything is rearranged
Feeling safe but strange
Mysterious waters ripple
Communication exchange
(Impressions left on the senses)

Speaking with silence
Stations of experience
Fingers in the tangled mane
Blurring the frames
Breaking of logic
Two colours plead
Understanding a need.

The true path of the heart, freed
Energy gathering speed.
A journey untamed
Alchemy tantalisingly unexplained

Occasional English Food

Strangled egg
Sour sausage tasting bread.
Pint of lead
With no head.
The main course has fled
See red
Just desserts, flavours bled
Taste buds dead
Enough said.

Graham Peter Metson 28/05/12. (21.20)

People are Falling in and
Out of Trees

People are falling in and out of trees
My head is hurting
But I am enjoying it
It's marvellous to watch them emerge from the sky
From another universe
From another sky in another place
Arriving from outer space
Knowing this is not a dream
And that I've known it from the day I was born
How it all forms
How it all floats
Why it rotates
For life, for that laughing face
From the static to beyond
A tumbling song
Of signals, shapes, stars and sounds; on and on.

Graham Peter Metson. 17/04/13. (23.30)

Captain Beefheart Coming
out of Me

I've got some Captain Beefheart coming out of me
A cracked mirror, feel free
To play the hoochie coochie with me
I look pilchard, like a dead mackerel.
Slap me with a Zappa
That would be a real dapper
Give me a grand la fever viva
Brought on by a contemporary minded diva.

Dog in the corner with a beery beard
His pint glass is in arrears.
With doorstep sandwich smile
He consumes bar food in a claw jaw hammer style

Let the lady sing so fine
She hits the heart note every time
A doner kebab wrapped in dolphin fashion doily.
Stun me now with some sound guitar
Have some fun over the cocktail bar
Aeroplane my electric brain
I feel as safe as a a sausage in vegetarian heaven
Give me some credit on the debit
To stop me 'feeling like a Doric dorba.
Standing alone in New York
With a silver fork, minus the pork.

Liquid, liquid everywhere
But no time to stop and think
I feel so good. gooood

Let me clever, blether your never never
With classic Doric, historic frolics
Don't take it for granted
Cause oh, I've got some Captain Beefheart
Coming out of me.

Antithesis afterthought:
Captain Beefheart tart
And earl grey tea
Just fine by me.

Graham Peter Metson. 22.04.13 (21.36)