Long Power station Poems

The way you decode your words MR professor to those ambitious students in your class
And with that so called lecturing you drop a big mass on their path
and by keep reminding them their stupidity, you...

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Moulded electric plugs, go to landfill the earlier ones were sectional and re-useable,
 Copper tanks kept water
Hot all day; maybe two days, if they were bigger.' They were removed in the interests of
Sustainability..? Pre 1990...

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Imagine a world if they made it first
Their want to dominate would continue to thirst
Heavy Water to be their goal
More innocent lives, more lost souls
 
The German want for Nuclear Arms
Brought them to, Telemark's charms
A...

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Ukraine is putting up a brave fight and is not giving in
A two finger salute to that murderer, Vladimar Putin
For eight months now they've held out in their cities 
Dispite missiles, murder, rape and other...

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Up but Down…part-5

“Poor place”, the spectral humming of the winds
Seems to tell, “the hills too would have to lose
Their birthright just like everyone of us.
On the way upward, somebody points

To a pitiful mile or so...

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Dust descending
fills my ears and nose:
small stones loosened from the soft rock
bleed our faces and our arms......

the smell of this cellar
the drought of this cellar
the echoing sound of this cellar
the rumble of this cellar
the body...

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A blanket of warmth cossets us with calm.                           ...

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Tuesday 17th 1998.

Escape…
I felt an atomic bomb erupt from within me, as I the being I am raged an unending battle against the person that is I.  My internal thoughts betraying my external actions,...

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Darkness stalks the evening sun shadows flee 
The streets, the moon and the stars illuminate 
The night from their power station in the sky 
But neon signs and florescent brights fornicate
their presence  

Bittersweet sorry...

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Blasted through the arteries of great wide open spaces
like fuel-injected bullets from some laser-sighted gun,
over-priced and deathtrap built, nothing cars to nowhere places,
trailing prisms of bleeding sump oil underneath the cooling sun.

From the money-grubbing fingers...

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Crystal Ball

Crystal ball's, a concentration point, 
for the one who see's afar,
 like old Nostradamus,
 looking darkly quaintrains are...
(for those that see images in the mirror)


crystal ball stores a charge within,
 like radio crystals when...

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We didn't go abroad this year, we had our summer holiday
Here in the UK where it had rained all summer long.
We scuba dived in the sea but it was dead, devoid of all
Life; we walked...

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A tall, chain wire fence
surrounds the perimeter 
of the power station, casting
its evening shadow over a wide
bank of grass leading down
to the river. Sometimes I sit there
just to listen to the sound 
of the wind...

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Crazy People

The signal they need to be on the same 
channel as you, is being interrupted, by voices or
wave signals connected to a different power station. 
So why not listen to the message?
Instead you medicate....

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There are times
when I long to move
beyond the edges of myself
as when, this morning, alongside 
the power station fence,
I passed under a red cloud 
of bottlebrush flowers
dripping nectar in a frenzy
of birds feeding on the...

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the chimney stacks
of the old power station
claws at the belly of the clouds
and with its sulfurous billowing
it bellows its stench
tinting the clouds, yellowing nicotine stains
as its cadaverous fingers clench
and releases, as it pleases
the painted nails...

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FOUR   LOVE AFFAIRS

The French health food shop
Near Vasilyastrovskaya metro,
With a tiny patio garden bench   -
Fell in love there with the language of the French.
Closed now for property development.
 
Ironbridge Folk Club,
In...

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Throughout the Oxford countryside,
Ubiquitous.  You cannot miss
That chimney or those cooling towers,
Dubbed “cloud machines” by local kids.

Fuelled by coal, this power station,
Condemned to death by Brussels Greens.
“Marmite” to a generation –
A love or hate...

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To all of my loves, 
I'm nothing but a greying power station.
They're not interested in me
or my well being
I'm not sure if they ever were.
They come at me with endless barbed babble
have little need for...

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Where ever I go
Where ever I stray
in the cold of the night
or the heat of the day
I carry her around everywhere 
in my joyful heart.

It feels like I'm walking around
wearing the softest cosy blanket
made of...

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Graffiti on an old rusty train 
I see this through my kitchen window 
And globs of dripping dropping rain  
A field house light shines at night like a little flame 
There is a golf...

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