Poem: Hymn to Mother Autumn



Oh, Mother Autumn, enter into our hearts,

And pierce them with the joy of your ecstatic frosts!

Your hair is woven from a net of leaves –

All the mystic colours your season breathes,

Invest us with the might to flow along with change,

As time doth all things rearrange,

As sorrow fades, and blooms into wisdom,

Usher us into the citadel of your burnished kingdom,

Into your faery landscape, charmed, enchanted,

Where the seeds of hope and joy are planted,

As sunset burns, and daylight lessons,

Brighten us with the balm of your blessings,

As The Mother of Ivy binds the forest together,

May neither time nor travail make us sever,

This our loving friendship, enkindled bright,

Roosting in the furnace of every star-filled night,

Oh, Mother Autumn, Mother please!

Paint us all the colours your season breathes



Oh, Mother Autumn, Changer of Trees,

Enliven us with your thrilling melodies!

Reveal, oh, the wistful wonder of your workings,

And prepare us for what in the winter is lurking –

Paint us a path – show us the way,

So we can lilt most freely to your tender decay,

With haws on thorns, hazel nuts on bough,

Fructify our thoughts with your ethereal plough!

Fed on fruit of love at this Harvest of Souls,

Help us each attain our inmost goals,

Safe from claw of carrion, or sweep of scythe,

Keep our friendship always alive,

As wheat is reaped, and corn is threshed,

May these souls uplifted be refreshed!

Help warm our nights, and delight our days,

As we wander on our time-torn, winding ways,

Knowing that if heart or head is ever a-muddle,

We can always come together to find peace in a cuddle!



Oh, Mother Autumn, come here to us now,

As the winsome robin reclaims his bough,

Shield us from thoughts desolate, and feelings forlorn,

Like the lonesome jay screeching for want of acorns,

Though the birdsong has receded into your chill air,

In our hearts may your symphonies eternal sing there!

With mushroom fruiting on log, in orchestral wood,

We learn e’en cruellest change can deliver kindliest good,

Now summer is gone, and sunlight displaced –

Come to us now – reveal thy face!

Standing by river, or willow-wreathed mere,

Hie to us sprites and spirits of deer!

Though we may feel sadness to see the forests laid bare,

We can rejoice for return of redwing and fieldfare,

And once again, we ask, this union to bless –

This Trinity of Hearts – Reuben, Hannah, and Jess!




Poem: House of Flesh


I really do wish there was

Someone who could help me;

Some emotional navigator who

Could orient me through these endless

Avenues of Pain. I am completely

Underworlded – I’ve been stuck here

So long I feel that I should at least have

Squatter’s Rights. Or a natty little office

On which my name can be bleedingly inscribed.

I do not feel I can win or lose in this situation;

I am introduced to a cathedral of flames –

Infernal masonry braided with the pulsating

Flesh of the living – the mortified skin of

Sufferer, upon sufferer,

Upon sufferer.



Someone once wrote that the regions

Of hell are infinitely larger than any

Enlightened Buddha Land. Is this the

Truth? Is Heaven so claustrophobic?

Isn’t it just one of the effective illusions

Of Hell to make it seem like it will never


When you’re in Hell, you’re constantly

Looking for the end, for the exit, for

The outside, for release – for

Some alarming mystificator

Who claims to know the way to

Peace. But, in Paradise, such self-

Conscious time has met its

Demise – everything is bornless

And Impaled upon an eternal moment

That can never be vanquished or




I look to my pen as the

Key to my escaping:

And yet, to keep on

Writing, I must keep on

Suffering: write – suffer –

Write – suffer – until ‘writer’

Becomes synonymous with

‘Sufferer’ – a computational

System – a DNA strand of

Double helices, intertwining

Lover with




So, in last night’s dreams,

I was attacked by pigs –

The envoys of Vajravarahi –

Sows of greed who lived in

Houses of Rotting Meat –

Oh, what a feat, if they were

To add my offal to that ungainly

Collection – I would mount an

Insurrection – If I were to die,

As usual, my soul would be

Raging against itself: one part

Of me, traumatized, yet relieved

To have been reprieved from the

Constant contortions of life, would

Shout: “Don’t ever make me go back again!

Thank goodness that’s over!”

Thus throwing himself in the arms of

His merciful Cosmic Mother – while,

The Other Part, crazy, excitable, restless,

Selfless, and Fearless, would rebel against

My pain-avoidance instinct, and yell:

“What’s the hold up?! Let’s get this show

On the road! I’m not done with Earth, yet –

Give me a million, a billion, a trillion more

Lives, and I’ll still be thirsting for more!

For more blood and war, and sex, and death,

And the inevitable loss of breath – give it –

Give it to me! Pain and tumultuous

Experience by the gallons! Serve it

To me in flagons! And I’ll drink every

Last one until this whole rotten whore

House is out of business!” – but that

Is the interminable conflict: that in order

To take away all the suffering of the world,

I must take it upon myself – be a one-man

Waking-Hell – a Silent Christ – A mother,

Whom, in childbirth is willing to sacrifice,

Her life, for the parturition of a new Horus –

A new Messiah –

A New Throne



But, I do not feel I am

Asking for much: to be a

Teacher for those that wish

To be taught – and at least

A cheering presence to those

Who do not. I am quite happy

To bear the suffering of all

Of these. I just wish for one

Little help-meet; one little

Angel of Flesh, with whom

I could lovingly intermesh.

I Crave Touch. Not False-Touch –

But True Touch – a truly loving

Touch that is capable of permeating

These malicious miles of malevolent

Membranes we perfunctorily refer

To as ‘Skin.’ A within! A within! –

Someone who knows how to swim

Through this dark lake of isolated

Suffering that surrounds me; who can

Reach that island – that lonely island

That is always at the centre of myself;

Where I sit, and weep, and rock myself

To sleep, contracting myself into a

Woodlouse creep, until I find repose

In sweet, sweet



Oh, that someone would push

Away the myriad boulders occluding

The entrance to my heart, and make

Of me a romantic Lazarus!

But, I cannot ask anybody to do that.

So I will carry on, wandering in

Solitude, until at last, this

“Too solid body’ is added to –

That House of Flesh.



Poem: As You Like It


Sleeping drunk under a bridge

The night sands caressing my face

The disco dancers are still about

Roaring against rhythms that should destroy them

But only give them more power

I watched the seagulls circumambulate the sun

In a disorderly procession

Against which their shrieks were rung

This is not a lyric ballad

But the last desperate jottings

Of a lovelorn tramp

Catapulting himself over furniture

In riverside taverns

Like a peacock of the night

I glitter and gleer

Unleashing my tail feathers

Faces all around detonate with delight

Every dartboard becomes a kaleidoscope

And the jukebox a sacred transmitter

Through which the Words of God are heard

But God is a cross-dresser

Like a Shakespearian heroine

She disguises herself as a handsome boy

But is happy to get her tits out

If she thinks it’ll do her any favours

“I’ll give you Ten Commandments

If you’ll give me ten lashings on the bum!”

She proposes, with a lurid wink

But, of course, she’s just as drunk as I am

How else could she have made me

Without falling into my fermented pisspot?

Or pulling up the wine of truth

From a fountain so deep?

Ah, Rosalind, you saucy Pagan romancer!

Won’t you banish yourself from your court

To get lost in my ghastly wood?

It would be awfully good if you would!

I’ll twinkle gently as the spaceship lands

For I’m going home tomorrow

To find the barroom in the stars


Poem: Marriage Proposal to a Goddess


Oh, my rose hearted goddess!

I know you adore me

For I can always feel your silky luminescence

Festooned around me

But can’t you come into this realm

This Nirmanakaya

And find a human body to inhabit

Just for a little while?

I know all phenomena

Pour from you

Like sweat from skin

But I want to touch you

To have both a physical

And a metaphysical

Relationship with you

Call it the ridiculous fancy

Of a hermit seasoned by suffering

I am but a fly who chooses

To fly into a spider’s web

So that the other flies have the luxury

Of knowing they are not alone

Oh, my lady!

I want to feel your skin condensed

And interwoven with my own

To feel your hot breath in my ear

As you kiss me in places

No sane human would

Be my wife on all planes

Both spiritual and material

So we can have a non-dualistic love

That leaves no boxes unticked

Never have the corpses glittered

Quite as they do tonight

So I throw my engagement ring

Into the abyss

And wait for my bride

To rise







POEM: The Ecstasy of Truth

white tara


When I chant you name

All beings in all realms

Are greatly pleased

The green energy of the earth

Rises up to engulf me

And the Isis of long ago

Becomes very present indeed

My womb opens up

As a heavenly lotus

Dispersing rainbow pollen

To all and sundry

I dance in the streets of India

My see-through sarong

Exposing my verdant limbs

My vagina is the flower

That all beings like to kiss

Thorns cannot be found here anymore

In the ecstatic dance of truth

POEM: Carnival of the Dying King

Lear and Cordelia 1849-54 by Ford Madox Brown 1821-1893
Lear and Cordelia 1849-54 Ford Madox Brown 1821-1893 

However much hurt you give me

I will always be willing to carry it

You are my Goddess

And I, your ass,

Willing to bear all the burdens

Your purity does not permit

Every misfortune

Or swing of the axe

That life levels at you

May it be my own instead

May I be the scapegoat

Of all your suffering

Who can be cast off into the wilderness

Where he can do no one any more harm

Jackals will gnaw at my ankles

Swarms of insects and locusts

Will harry me constantly

Urging me onwards

To my inevitable collapse

Yet I

Bleary-eyed and braying

Will be anaesthetized by love

The more the love

The more the pain

The more the Heaven

The more the Hell

My ribcage will be a marimba

Upon which King Yama can declare me conquered

My fleece will be made into slippers

So you continue to dance on my woes

Even in my absence

Goddess, Goddess,

Unknowing Goddess

Has anyone ever been as ignorant as you?

But the ignorance is all my own

It is the sharpened throne

Upon which I slaughter myself

The king has used up

His twelve year turn

The populace are in outrage

Frothing into a frenzy

Carrying me through crowds

And bellicose hoards

Prostitutes scourge me with chains

And vicars piss on my wainscoting

I am the mould growing upon the world

I do not blame you

For wanting to remove me

Have done with this wretch

This champion of lies

Cast him into the bonfire of vanities

And make him vomit forth

A final quatrain or two

We’ll tie him to the tracks

And be the final straw

That breaks the camel’s back

Let’s not be hasty now

Let me suffer slowly

Let every last incineration

Be like an intimate conversation

By candlelight

“Isn’t it romantic?”

The werewolf declares

Licking out my eye sockets

Bringing filth to purity

And purity to filth

Radiance to obscurity

And obscurity to silt

It’s a tomb with a view –

What I can I say?

So I will love you all extremely


And devotedly

As you scourge me

Instead of

My love

POEM: That Insidious Sun


My darling,

You are Kali herself

The skulls of my various lives

You wear as a necklace

A testament to

My ongoing mutilation

The chamber of my heart

Is the bloodied mansion

In which you insouciantly ensconce yourself

Using my entrails for a hammock

Swinging to and fro

A pendulum of pain

Hiding yourself demurely

Behind the veil

Of my invisible agony

Do you come back

Life after life

Just to torment me

The one obstacle

I have never been able to surmount?

The wailing prophets

Were never short of apocalyptic visions

Sickened and spellbound

After poisoning themselves with putrid fruit

Grown on the crooked tree of love

I’m sorry if my suffering overflows

To fill your glasses too

This a feast of the dead

A feast of the damned

The samurai strides through the battlefield

Decorated with the corpses of war

The maggot-ridden

Medals of glory

Alone in the ocean of death

He thinks of his Japanese maiden

Her face painted white

A living Amaterasu

A sun he could never have dreamed

Would ever enlighten him

Now that light only burns

He hides himself

In the darkness of the demoniac

Yet he always comes crawling out again

To gratefully receive his torment

Wounds and injuries

No armour could ever prevent

He looks in the mirror

And sees her face

Staring back at him

His identity is gone

Hers is an infection

That eats him alive

He thinks of his blade in its sheath

Thrust into his solar plexus

A fitting marriage

Of steel and soul

But this soul has already been stolen

By a queen who has no use for it

Except to plump out the cushions

Of her squalid indifference

I used to be able to do that

To sit happily upon corpses

And watch the world go by

Now the corpses

Are all my own

The world is not going by me

But I’m going bye-bye to the world

Going the way

Of ashes and bones

Of horseflies and mallets

And assembly-line clones

After all the people I’ve killed

I have no choice but to be crowned

With that insidious sun

POEM: Seed of All Beginnings


All our actions

And intentions

Are mirrored

And reflected

Like light shining through

An infinite prism

What you do

On a mundane level

Has its parallel

In the spiritual

Fasting in the bath

My higher self

Prepares for ablutions

In a beautiful pyramid

We are going to see the Goddess

Our bodies must be lighter

Then the lightest flower

And clearer

Than the purest light

Then I will return to

The womb of my mother

As the seed of all beginnings

Poem: Love Without Body Parts


I’ve realized why love is so powerful –

It has nothing to do with me!

I’ve realized with love is so great –

It has nothing to do with you!

Just sharing a room with you

Makes me happy

Like a parent selflessly doting

On their child

Take me to all the rooms –

I’ll sit in everyone with you

I’ll share in everyone with you

You are my goddess

And I was born

Just to worship you

You are so lovely

Like a cascade of vines

An embryonic child

Rising into life

Put your third eye against mine

I want to lie in bed with you

And have you fall asleep on my chest

It doesn’t matter whose child you were

You are my child now

Crazy Reuben dances through life

Smashing skulls

And beating brains

Don’t you want

A thighbone trumpet

To call you dog home?

But you are so lovely

My secret goddess

Amnesiac to

Her own divinity

What do you make

Of this fiendish jester

Who follows you

Like a dog –

Isn’t he you?

Isn’t he you?

Lie down on the battlefield

I’ll let my body be

A pincushion for lead

If you’ll just carry me away

Carry my splattered body parts

Off to A&E

It doesn’t matter at all

If your feelings ever mirror my own

I love your spirit

And your spirit does things

You do not know

We are all love enough

Without firing guns at one another

Thinking with the safety off

Who ever read such moosh?

Poem: Poppies and Scrolls


Do you remember when you and I

Used to build the sky?

We were not star-crossed lovers;

We were the stars themselves


I love you

Although I don’t know why

You should be singled out

As the object of my attention

What hidden history

Is it I see

In the frozen genesis of your eyes?

What ancestral force is it

That makes me see you as my child?

I love you, and yet I don’t know why;

But I do know that

We both built the sky

And we both filled the sky

Masters of the Universe

Great creators of gossamer gentleness

Can you see it?

Can you see it?

Can you see that I am your brother?

Just hold me

And put your mouth to mine

It does not matter

Who you are now

Because what we are together

Is eternal


I hold no images of you

For images repulse me

Holding onto them

Sunders you from truth

But there is something in your eyes

The sacred geometry of your face

That resonates beyond mere form


What was your body like

Before you had a body?

Are you an emanation of Tara

Now disguised as a human

Hatched in the Nirmanakaya?

A craving to be close to you

Occupies my heart

Almost as intensely as the Buddha

I do not feel it keeps me

From The Way

But allows me to behold

Parts of it I have not yet fathomed

Or begun to explore

Did you watch me die?

Did you see me filled with tubes?

Or on the grass of a forgotten field?

I was just out for a walk

Out for a reflection

And you found me lying there

In my scholar’s robes

My corpse buried under

Poppies and scrolls

 I was a Master Calligrapher

Adept in ancient Chinese

So it’s no wonder that my use of English

Handwriting makes no sense!

I don’t know what become of you

After that

As your tears watered my body

Fertilizing its future existence

And I’m back in the swamp again

Besotted with the notion of

Universal Fatherhood

Allowing all beings

To become interlocked

In the labyrinthine tendrils

Of my hoary beard

All beings embraced

In my all-embracing robe

Don’t you know I’ve always been here

Holding every single one of you?

I cannot tell you how much

I want to thank you

For the way you have opened my heart

Without even intending it

It has given me a glimpse

Into the godhead

Into the remembering

Of my fully-realized being

I am not becoming a Buddha

Because I already am a Buddha

Safely carrying all of you

In my cosmic rucksack

My satchel of poetry and dreams

Pacing the void

I span the universe

Literally taking eternity in my stride

There’s so many things

I want to tell you;

So many things that I want to teach you,

Instruct you

I want to reawaken your eternal being

So please become my disciple!

We’ll live together in a pine forest

Hidden from civilized concerns

I will teach you The Way

All the while

Kowtowing to you

And holding you as my superior

Bowing to you in deference

Scarcely able to look at you

But never wanting to look at anything else

Ah, to be a madman in a world

That has forgotten their usefulness!

Come live and love with me

And I will show you:

How the ivy grows

How the river bleaches bones

How nature butters her scones

The atrocities eternity condones

Love is not gentle

It is vicious and ferocious

Eating me alive

Chewing up my guts

And doing unfathomable things

With my secret heart

Things I have never felt before

Which we feel so very familiar

And so very certain

I want to howl, cry, laugh, weep,

Walk slowly through the morning fields

And lap up the sunlight

That you always exude

I can’t believe this

 I feel like fucking

Walt Whitman

As though I’m rewriting

Leaves of Grass

Without knowing why

Who am I really?

Who am I really?

Who is this marvellous imposter

Deceiving the world

With his gentle and exaggerated face?

Still, the poetry hurtles out of me

As I cannot stem the tide

Though half-starved and sleep-deprived

Caught up in a different tide altogether

Exultation above exultation!

You are the goddess Tara

I know you are

I know it in my cells

And other places

Where the truth of everything is hidden

This pen is going beyond me

This mind is hurtling away from me

But love keeps on attacking me

Assailing me from every direction

A mutant, I am

So it must tear me apart

It seems quite absurd

If looked at quite plainly

As a corporeal being

You just are as your are

Meaning no less to me

Than the rest

But beyond that symbol you’re wearing

I feel something deeper

I feel something ten trillion poems

Could not begin to relate

Though there is nothing that is not poetry

As none of us will negate


So, now my unknowing lover

What do we do

Now we’re at this crossroads?

But I just talk foolishness

There is no crossing;

We are just beginning to converge

I don’t want to scare you away anymore

But this hermit crab

Must destroy his shell

And hide his secrets in the cave

Where the pearl of honesty grows

Where the pearl of integrity grows