Tag Archives: Sean Lavery

Whittled Down

Who wants tragedy
when we can have
a whole lot of fake
frivolity going down.
Who needs a window
on the world –
when we can have
frosted glass and shade.
Who needs solemn
when we can have
antidepressants daily.
And a newsfeed
that tells us how it is –
in our own version
of the world –
whittled down.

Name Dropper

I’m not a name dropper.
I’m an aforementioned,
Falling east, south west.
Falling north, north and
north again.
A sure-fire king of all
that useless stream
of consciousness.
Railing against the
Falling so far away
from all that’s real.
A dropper of names.
A name dropper.
A do whopper.


You think about manana.
You think about tomorrow
and the hours that fill
the time in between.
Symptoms of a craziness
that reflects nothing
concrete, nothing real.
And there you are –
sitting beyond a stare,
waiting for the reflex.
A slow drip.
A slow suppose.
Drifting out there
in the dying light.
Tomorrow, manana
and whatever else
out there is calling.
Calling for you,
with mystic optimism.

Fibrous Gatherings

So, who replaced
Brian Jones in
the Rolling Stones.
Who nodded out
in some Las Vegas
hangout, with indignity.
Were the last hours
of a certain singer,
actually spent in Balham,
sleeping forever in a car.
Was a slow dive
into the Mississippi
all it took to end a life.
A one so short,
just like his fathers.
Remember when it
was good to be young,
and the spectre of death
only lived for Rock and Roll.
Carnivorous it was,
eating away at tender flesh,
until all that was left
was polish white bone.
Rendered beautiful yet
bleak, a reduction
of sorts –
charcoal burning.
Lamp oil smell.
Fibrous gatherings
atop the altar
of marble and stone.

A Carnival of Light

A carnival of light
snuffs-out the darkness.
Shedding splintered rays
and brittle diamond shines.
Illuminating the hollow
and the low.
Cutting through like
glass and stainless steel.
Suffusing a mild gentle
warmth on everything.
Touched and untouched.
Stroked and left shimmering.
A move from night-time
into day bright sunshine.

The Hard Way

I move sideways.
I move backwards.
I segue this way.
I segue that way.
I find a way,
that’s the hard way.
A difficult way –
bending with the wind.
How this happens
I have no way of explaining.
But it happens.
A subconscious signal
to the soul.
And the rain sounds.
It falls outside, making
sad stricken conversations.
Head through wood
and brick, through windows
closed but not double glazed.
And I segue this way.
And I segue that way.
I find a way,
that’s the hard way.

The Unknowable Feast

Tomorrow is never
today or yesterday.
Just a great
unknowable feast –
that’s slowly rotting
in the future.
Send forth and
shout it out.
Make break and
misbehave, temper
and begin again
with gusto and
free thoughts of
chance and today.