From Another Riverbank (a song for Scott Walker)

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
framed against
the distant clouds

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
singing her song
without words

from another riverbank
I stand watching her
as the rain falls
on the still waters

and the ripples which grow
closer to the other side
roll against the footprints
where she once stood
and whisper my song
too late, too late

while I can only stand
and watch her
from another riverbank


The Nonsensical Madness of Pub Breakfasts

gin palace breakfast bowl
old fat Henry Tudor roll
watching wooden tulips grow
big red bus to Old Kent Road
chandelier spiderthreads
reminding me of Pier Head
Mr Wimpey dropped down dead
and slipped into the river cold
somewhere in the heart of town
a pair of yellow boots were found
which stomped my nation underground
with it all our future’s sold
and so dear friends my song is done
I’m off to sing another one
before the inspiration’s gone
or if the day grows old.

A song for Paul Simon

and so in his Augustan phrase
forced between the ringing bars
a poetry of his young passions
duets with his cold guitar

there’s loneliness
where none should live
and sadness takes
when love must give

and though his rhymes are older now
they still beat inside my dreams
sing along with my heart somehow
and drive away the clouds it seems


the patterns make their way through
those memories we have all shared
and though they fall to pieces
even scattered shine those words


A Naive Little Song I Sort of Sung to Myself on the Train

I loved a girl on the beach in Spain
only we both didn’t know it then
destiny would see to it
was just a matter of when
she had no cares in eighty eight
or whenever it may have been
and nor did I wherever I was
that changed when I had seen
the woman she grew into
before I even knew her name
and from the moment I held her
something inside me changed.