rewrite

THREE UNFINISHED BATHROOM PIECES (HASTILY TAPED TOGETHER IN THE FASHION OF SIDE 2 OF ABBEY ROAD, A LONG PLAYING RECORD BY THE POPULAR LIVERPOOL BEAT COMBO THE BEATLES)

Oh magic mirror on the wall
are you that magic after all?
I ask you questions every day
you never have a thing to say.

I lost time
attempting to recreate
the clockwise
Coriolis effect
in my plughole
I’m sure I witnessed
during my shower
this morning
and settled on
the thoughts
of tailors in
Australia
and inside legs
and has the
world tripped over?

If I had a bag of sherbet dip
big enough to sleep in
I’d want you as my lollipop
if you were up for lickin’
You could be my dib-dab
sweet as sweet could be
all sugared up from tip to toe
a candy treat for me.

The Old Stones

are their souls afire still
from the mountains long since dead
and capped perpetual winter’d chill
no more the flames of Vulcan’s dread?

they stand to watch the eons die
no mortal mind may fathom well
as beneath the countless skies
these sentinels no secrets tell.

so silent stands their mystery
as before man from clay was born
that none may know their history
from then until the last sun dawns

BACKGROUND NOISE

this constant murmered noise behind
my thoughts, an echo beyond rhyme
that fell between the cracks in time
which call to me from their eternal nights

where reason holds no true domain
never to be spoke again
and makes from beauty only pain
then all the physic laws descend from light

but still heard deep inside my head
the breath of galaxies long dead
upon which my dreams soft tread
and hide from them and so from their dark sights

explosions faded from their wake
like ripples on a silvered lake
the purest mirror they forsake
and find their way into the words I write