Urban Poetry Poets: Tim B

I am ex-patriot English and have been living in Australia for 37 years. I have been writing, amateur, fiction and poetry since high school but seriously since around 2000.

I write speculative-fiction and my poetry spans so many genres that I can't think of a single word to sum the style up, except maybe "chaotic" LOL
I experiment with words the way some scientists do with mice. Somebody once told me, "You have to learn the rules before you can break them." I replied, "S**w the rules, I've got my own thanks - it's called creativity." That's kinda me in a nutshell.

My two favourite sayings are; "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." - E.A. Poe and "Nature says we have to grow old, there's no law that say's we have to grow up!" - Me

Poems:

City of…

Between faded brownstones,

In cold tenements of grey,

Minds dulled by social control,

Preside over hearts of clay.

Sightless eyes behold,

The weak and poor getting rolled,

Bundled rags seek shelter,

From cardboard tents in the cold.

The black and white’s slide by,

The night’s sullen cast,

No lights can penetrate shadows,

Where deals are made fast.

Time can have no meaning,

Except by the factory clock,

And boughs break under infants,

That never had a chance to rock.

The suits, crims and junkies,

Mingle in their scores,

To the mighty god ‘Dollar’,

We are all wretched whores.

Streets fill with desperate faces,

All counting up the cost,

Of having dared once to dream,

Then watch those dreams lost.

Or they sit at kitchen tables,

With the demands strewn about,

Before going to the garage,

And blowing their brains out.

Perhaps they’ll take the hit,

To get out of life’s rain,

A massive shot of pure horse,

Straight into hardening vein.

The sadness and the darkness,

No movie show can relate,

No television commentators,

Can adequately debate.

Shuffling home at day’s end,

Strong, rich or plain,

We all face the fears,

Of darkness descending again.

A World Beyond

Beyond the grime, and city pall,
Far from crime, and avarice’s call.
Past the hills, cross ocean’s deep,
Lies a place, our hearts to keep.
Far away, from madding crowd,
Cover’d o’er, in mysts soft shroud.
Come let me take thee, by the hand,
And show to thee, this finest land.

Where magick holds, endless sway,
Beauty holds, both night and day.
Satyr and Nymph, join joyous play,
The Green Man leads, the hunt away.
Dragon and Unicorn, side by side,
Faeries and Elves, in peace reside.
Ne’er a line, twixt black and white,
Knight and maiden, fancies flight.

Secret sweet land, of dark and light,
Balance struck, good and evil fight.
Not the pure evils, that men will do,
Honour and valour, hearkened to.
Green robed hill, quiet shady vale,
Often perceived, beyond mortal veil.
Glittering dance, and sacred chants,
Soft sweet song, and healing plants.

We’ll dance to dawn, thee and I,
Our dreams take wing, fears fly.
A sweet peace, ‘pon our raw soul,
Soft dark repose, our only goal.
I’ll sing thee songs, by Pixie drum,
Just close thine eyes, say “I’ll come”
Just take the step, the first toward,
For magick world, Fae boat to board.

I have no use for, ‘the real world’,
In thine arms, I should be curled.
Sleep sweetly now, in green bower,
Round about, giant Oaks tower.
Fall to enchantment, there with me,
A new ‘reality’, wherefore to see.
Open thine eyes, let me show thee,
The kingdom where, we should be.

Copyright TB 2003

Cosmic Oasis

Music of the spheres, tickles and soothes our senses,
Lowering inhibition, removing need for defences,
Drift warm in solar light, surrounded by deep night,
Eclipsed by planets, entwined our bodies, wound tight.

Comets light the way, bathe us in radioactive embrace,
Starstuff in your eyes, I look upon your shining face,
Curled together in sun’s fire, phoenix rises higher,
Ether trembles at our core, we super-stars of desire.

Tantalise my seething skin, with fingertips so sly,
Nuclear white fire, emblazoned with your sultry sigh,
Energy courses the universe, taste the heat in space,
Open our hearts and souls, let us fuse in this place.

Draw down the glimmering sky, to wrap us where we lie,
Braced ‘gainst the planets, I hear your breathless cry,
My body slithers over you, to find your wild core,
Solar winds to fan the flames, fused together evermore.

Copyright TB 2003

Lifeline

Blue gives way to black,
Earth shadow at my back,
The rocket man will fly,
Beyond the bluest sky.

Silver gleam of the moon,
I’ll not be back too soon,
Some folk will even cry,
Rocket man bound to die.

Flying fast and flying far,
Nothing else is on a par,
Engines roar is silent now,
Total void before the bow.

Slowly lift my head to see,
‘Nothing’ waits there for me,
Could I ever feel this free,
In this cocoon of machinery?

Cut the rockets to slow drift,
Freedom beckons spirits lift,
Just one button separates me,
From the gulf of eternity.

Hatch wide gazing on stars,
Forget all of lifetime’s scars,
Pushing clear of this tin can,
Just another lost lonely man.

Turn my eyes at last to see,
The blue world of memory,
Reach down unhook the line,
Everything will be just fine.

In a strange and abstract way,
I watch the craft drift away,
Make myself shape a crucifix,
Forget my lonely mind’s tricks.

A comet streaks across space,
This is such a peaceful place,
Gentle tear in my own eye,
At last the rocket man can die.

Copyright TB 2003

Le croisement (The crossing)

No longer seeing the light, nor the angels bright,
No more the sweet day’s sight, sylvan eyes to excite.
The time has come at last, the darkness closes ‘bout,
No time left to forget, not even for the most devout.

When the tunnel closes, the shadows gather ‘round,
Darken not only sight but also sweet song’s sound.
Phantasm’s driven by, with hollow and mourning cry,
Not even the Shaman’s powers, can this end defy.

She stands ‘pon the threshold, her skin a shade so pale,
Her gentle hands reach out, to brush aside the veil.
The answers she has sought, the questions all now seem,
To fade to insignificance, at the end of time’s stream.

No ferry man she needs, no coaxing from angel o’ death,
Now she is ready to cross, ready to draw her last breath.
She was born for this moment, o’ this she is most sure,
She has come to the crossing, still so young and pure.

Sweet the scented breeze, that rustles amongst the yews,
Around the weathered gravestones and all along the pews.
‘Round the lonely steeple, will it shift the ancient bell?
To sound the single note, o’ a mournful death knell.

Will any gather to cry for her? Will any come to see,
Will there be sweet hymns sung, how can this be?
That the world goes on about us, as we watch her leave,
Waiting with bated breath, will she the crossing achieve?

The veil will draw behind her, will hide her from view,
The darkness will close finally, there be naught we may do.
Farewell the gothic beauty, she who came and lit our life,
With a sombre grace and poise, shining through the strife.

G’day ol’ mate

G’day ol’ mate, it’s been a while,
I just got back this way today,
Thought I’d grab a couple of coldie’s
And head on over this way.

Sorry I haven’t been around mate,
I’ve been working way out back,
Fencing in the old paddocks,
And clearing back th’ track.

They told me yer boys had gone,
And that yer patch is up for sale,
Strewth! cobber, that’s a turn up,
It’d make yer ol’ dad, turn kinda pale.

Still, I reckon’ all them years,
We fought drought, dust and flood,
We couldn’t have done better,
If it wasn’t in our blood.

Maybe the days of th’ ol’ cocky,
Are quite soon to be no more,
There aren’t too many of us left ol’ mate,
Of that you can be sure.

So when they told me at the pub,
This is where you’d be,
I thought I come for a chinwag,
With a beer for you, and one for me.

I’ll just leave yours by the headstone,
And I’ll be on me way,
Do me a favour would you ol’ mate,
When you get to heaven, tell the missus g’day.
© TB 2011

Surreal Dreams

Lock the loch with rock,
So that Nessie may not unblock,
And stay there lock and stock,
Forever sealed in the loch.

Dream the sombre dream,
Of the silvery bream,
Where they dart in the stream,
Of the twin rivers scheme.

Vague the ominous tick tocks,
Of sepulchral clocks,
Where rock and roll rocks,
From shocks to aftershocks.

And we may ride an ocean tide,
A ride we take in our stride,
And lie about when we lied,
Deathly thoughts of when we died.

In a dark bar or a third-world bazaar,
We can never be sure just how far,
We drove our decrepit luxury car,
Mind stripped and senses up to par.

Watch sun rising at sunrise,
And much to our surprise,
Again the world is our prize,
For surviving night time's lies.

Haiku –
This is an ancient Japanese poetic form that is written according to rules for a set number of syllables per poem and which includes a seasonal theme and an active, or action/event. The traditional number of syllables used is 17 arranged in three lines but many modern writers of the form employ a 3,5,3 structure that totals 11 syllables over three lines. The following are in the 5,7,5 syllable arrangement:

            Spring brings a fresh rain
            For to wash away the grey,
            To cleanse the streets’ stain.

            Between the brownstone
            The pavement lightly shimmers,
            Summer heat sets tone.

            Summer days are gone
            But you know that leaves can’t fall,
            From stone trees at all.

            Clouds on tower tops
            City gripped in winter’s icy pall,
            With snowploughs on call.

Senryu –

Is a Japanese poetic art form (along the same principles as Haiku) that is used in making social and political satire or observations dealing with society. These I have written in the more modern Westernised interpretation, 3-5-3 syllable form.

            Railroad yard
            Steel cold, rough and hard
            Hobo sleeps.

            Penthouse life
            Soup kitchens in strife
            Have, have not.

            Street level
            A gangland revel
            A new drug.

Urban Poetry Poets: Tim B

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