The Geranium Hotel Poems

I meant to tell you what it was on my mind I meant to tell you what I found in your looks I meant to tell you what I heard in the songs I meant to tell you what I think it’s about The pounding song coming from the piano It is what the young men expect to cure their heads Their poor heads, full of disease, full of thought I can’t admit that I trusted in my thoughts Ever, for good or for bad And I can’t admit I ever knew what was good for me Let alone you But I’ve always been good in an emergency But I don’t think you ever expected me to emerge Into the great son of Pomp And I don’t think you expected me to be called Anywhere near the time that I was But you know I was always true, like the vibration of gravity And I become the Daffodil to you didn’t I? I become the blood of Narcissus You know I meant to tell you so much Maybe you can hear my words through Echo? I meant to tell you of all the anticipation I held in my heart I thought it would burst I meant to tell you that a heart could...

Sing the industructable piano song towards my big fat head! I need it between my legs before I go to bed! Wave away my flies Wave away my flies Let your pale white digits do the walking in the cavity Let your mind run wild with its unlocked depravity I am lying here smelling cigarette smoke and old cologne Lying here thinking of where I’d like to poke my bone What a theatrical show! Beneath the snow! One of natural woe! From head to toe! Look at you boy, you are the son of death All scars and fur, the part of the beast Look at you boy, you’ve lust on your breath And baby, I wanna be your feast The lightening it hits the town, lighting the spire and angering the snarling angels Oh, a stranger, I don’t believe we’ve met! My name it is purity, but my middle name’s regret The pavers move up and down we better stomp quietly Better take off the bells from our sleeves Better not make a scene and put a stop to this revolution! Those angels will see us Those heavily armed angels, blushin’ snar...

I was a soldier  I never fought  I watched someone die though Who? My younger self  it was so sad…  so... unexpected…

A man walks through the concrete night he has a laser beat throbbing against the chill that rushes from his hands Through the trees that line the pavements he walks listening for the gospel heroes of the past He has drawn himself up to the full height of just over six foot These days are his and he is the night's Somewhere a light is switched on for him Somewhere a light is extinguished Here it is autumn and the leaves are smouldering in their own decay As the stars reach the brightest stage A bending note of music grabs and pulls at the host The creased dome and fleshy silence of thought is moved Oh the ugliness of sarcastic love And the aged body stepping from the diamond bath This is the truth that cracks the pavement Cracks the pavement burn off your wings step into my arms THIS IS THE GREATEST OF PUZZLES Like the truth of the gods can love's narcissism pull you from the flames? The night it is a cage One that withholds the wildest of beasts Here ...

Folks of the circus! Do not be afraid, after scanning the prose, to leave a kiss in the form of praise! or tell me how it is that I fail you... A comment from you, yes you oh charming one, would be delight in its purest of forms. TIMOTHY

Mad in the desirous blur of lights flickering all over the men, all over the bodies that lie naked on the relaxed earth. Here are the broken, here are rich, the poets with bad intent. Look at those boys with the dreams between their legs! Like the religion that once stood high in their hearts but has now crumbled like the walls of Eden. All the angels fly in their frenzied echo, teeth bared and swords drawn waiting for the pause, the entry, Oh, there shall be no beat for them though, no drummer to announce their entry for this is the city of trees where the pavements are golden and the language is pure, there is no mongrel culture here. What is the spark that ignites the search for beauty in the embrace of man? Who gently exhales warm breath on the spark to ignite great torrents of flame bearing down on the thoughts of the pure minded? Turning them from the bland soups on the bare tables of their schools and introducing them to the banquet upon history’s flamboyant table. Oh flicke...

We are the new shades of blue We are the forgotten sons of Pan We are the axe men in the forrest vast We are the time keepers in a world with out momentum We are the boys amongst men We are the sweet words unheard We are the dictionaries clawed by poets We are the fish's fin rippling through water salty We are the hitch-hiker's blistered feet We are the archer's bow and arrow in the sky We are the muscles relaxed and tense We are the happy shoreline flat before the cliff We are the highest of musical notes We are the sunflower dying in the frost We are the roman coin found by the school child We are the crying grandmother in love We are the honour and sacrifice of the religious We are the daylight streaming through the bathroom window We are the spring coming from the winter We are the final breath being passed as a kiss We are the touch of God, the touch of Venus We are the steps to heaven We are the embrace of youth We are the end of motherhood We...