synaptic branches
neuron tipped limbs
sacred grove recovery
oakbrain opens doors in my head
ashbrain spears my ideas
elmbrain plays the fey
electric gust moves limbs
inside my head
barkskin neural net
circumnavigates damage
fruited hemispheres
replenish, restore, reimagine
senses water roots
grove in my head
grooves in my head
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ORPHAN BORN PREGNANT
she enters dark
catacombs her wings
scrape off
she brings new birth
wingless orphan lads are born first
search for their unborn sisters
fuck one
dig an escape tunnel
to light
and die
orphan lasses born pregnant
exit through escape tunnels
new birth clings to them
as they unfold wings to fly
THE WILD FIG
I’m allowed to dress in her clothes,
richer, softer, more delicate
I’m out with the other lasses
in the streets hitting ourselves
with wild fig branches
lads eye us up as we breathe
heavy and show more flesh
they might have us later
or we might have them
I’m supping and eating with her
tomorrow I shall wear
poorer, harder, rougher clothes
and do chores
LIBERATION
SERVING WISDOM
Tha wants to hear
‘ow tha nannan saved tarn
al tell thee.
a were nowt but
a serving oik
to big bosses
on r tarn.
serving ’em sup a were
an they were in
a reet tacking
seein as son lads
from another tarn
as said ‘Thas best
do as we ask else
we’ll beat thee
black and blue.
Know what am saying?’
“We want tha lasses,
wives and girlfriends
fort neet or maybe
longa.”
In a reet to do.
Well as bein a serving oik
a ‘ad an idea.
So a pipes up
“al sort it for thee.”
an they continued
wi their yammer.
” a said, al sort it.
For thee.”
an their still yammer,
yammer. a slams full
pint pot dahn so’s it
splashes all o’er
“Lunk’eads! A said
al sort for thee!”
Well, they eyes me
up and dahn like a were
summat art a tarn.
A were a bit on a looker
then, tits pointy, reet curve
on ma hips and dash
a blonde hair.
Then been so engrossed
they’d not noticed us.
“Well!”, chief boss says.
A outlines plan
to ’em while they’re
eyeing up me goods,
int plan a volunteered
a stack o’ me female
mates to join us.
An it were on.
SECOND BEST DRESS
Bosses telled their wives
an girlfriends o’ plan,
an telled ’em to keep stum.
Some o’them lasses
as doubted us lot
lower dahn pecking order
could do job reet. Snobby
bitches. They says
“We’ll tek ’em in an
teach ’em how to play part.”
A told our stack o’ lasses
an they were game. So
all on us volunteers
turns up at posh lasses
doors and got a reet
pampering.
“Tha dunt want too much,
else tha’ll stink like a whore.”
she dabs rose petal scent on us,
rouge’s me cheeks,
chooses second best
linen for us “Dunt want you
showing us up.”
an a were saving her.
Other lasses had been tret
same, but now all on us
were off to meet
wi enemy artside tarn.
a gev lasses advice.
“Play hard
to get, first. Thas posh,
remember. Up to them
to woo thee.”
LIBERATION
When us turns up
they’ve laid on a reet spread
for us, hot meat and fresh fish platters,
rice, pasta and sweet wine.
bearded enemy is all in a line up
to the tables. “Are you their
wives and girlfriends?”, one
o’ them asks.
A walk along line o’ men.
Stop. Pull a lads goatee
beard towards
ma tits an say ” No, we’re
shit under thee booit. Av
got some goats milk
‘ere that wants suppin’.”
an ma tits in his marth.
One o’ other lasses,
reveals a thigh an says,
“ma fig wants chewin’ on.”
Yet another pouts her lips,
“a need a tongue to tek,
ma nectar” an snogs
one o’ the enemy.
soon all are coupled up,
an suppin’ place dry
an sossled
an ma lasses are play
fightin’ wi enemies weapons
an hidin’ them away
lad on ma breast as his hands
all o’er, a gently prise him off,
“Time, yet, lover, time.”
an sneak artside
an climb a wild fig tree,
an raise a torch
art on folds a ma dress
leet it so’s bosses can see.
an bosses come dahn
on enemy fistin’, cuttin’
av blood splattered o’er
her second best dress,
ma rouge is redder.
beat ’em soundly we did,
atter wi were gin r freedom
fort savin’ tarn.
an that’s why we’re ‘ere
under wild fig tree,
suppin’ goats milk
an lasses play fightin
o’er yonder.
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I.
At eleven years old
my Dad’s teenage sketchbooks
opened.
Cows sat down in pencil.
His Dad’s backyard full of tools
a preliminary pencil sketch.
Wanked off at
his female nudes, even when
drapery hid modesty.
Extremely detailed Clwydian hills,
mountains, landscapes,
rotting stump colours
ablaze yellows, ochres, greens.
I wanted to draw, sketch,
inspired.
I asked
for my Dads’ books.
He did not have many.
He gave me all.
Alfred N. Whiteheads
“Problems of Philosophy”
“An Introduction To Immanuel Kant”
“The Poems of Rudyard Kipling”
He played a 33″ record Dylan Thomas
‘Under Milk Wood’ from my earliest memory
so every portion of my life
a quote from it pops into my head.
“Listen, listen. Time passes…”
II.
White, steaming big neck
swings like sail in full.
Horns razor sharp Madras cow
clanks down metal aisle
three funnelled merchant ship.
Dad, up from hot boilers
his mate behind the beast
they hit it with sticks herd it
back to wooden corral
above hold.
Heat, more flies than sweat.
Dad knew white monster’s
coal blistered face,
nostrils hissing air
steam scream water
through pipes, pistons.
Knew every caress of its flank
every flinch, flick, strain
yawn of engine below
the only way to get there.
Indian cows are sacred,
so are ships boilers.
II.
(cough)
I kept at him
‘Have a drink of water, Dad.’
Retired he climbs Lake District
up through
earth’s forest lungs
(cough)
Specialists ask “Have you worked with Asbestos?”
‘Only cleaning boilers when I was young.’
dust thickens
lungs
diffuse thickening
dries lungs
branches and twigs
(cough)
“Listen, listen. Time passes…”
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Received English version
Bright Battle is asleep,
in a torc of fire,
in a torc of linden shields
at top of a peak called Hindfell.
After hearing from Nuthatch
about Bright Battle
Siggy wants to see
for himself, journeys to Hindfell.
With his horse
he splinters through the linden shields
and leaps the lapping flames
to get to the sleeping maiden
With sharp blade he slices
through thetight bound straps
of her corselet, so it falls
on the floor, and he kisses her.
She awakes and tells him
” I have been trapped here
by One Eye when I picked
the wrong dead king to fetch
back to the great mead hall.
One Eye stabbed me with a sleeping
thorn and put me on top
of this peak asleep
with flame and wood around.
And gave us to believe
only a mortal kiss
from such as yourself
who has braved the wood
and the fire would set us free.
You have freed us
and I am beholden to you.”
They fall hard
for each other.
No need of horse
he eases through
her fleshy torc of fire
her unbroken torc of linden.
Dialect version
Bright Battle is fast on,
in a torc o’ fire,
in a torc o’ linden shields
at peak called Hindfell.
Atta hearing from Nuthatch
abaht Bright Battle
Siggy wants to see
for himsen, goes to Hindfell.
Wi his horse
splinters through linden,
leaps lappin flames
to get to fast on virgin lass.
Wi sharp blade slices
through tight bound straps
o’ her corselet, so it falls
on flooar, an snogs her.
She weks an tells him
as “av been trapped here
by One Eye when I picked
wrong dead king to fetch
back to grate mead hall.
an stabs us wi sleeping
thorn an sets us atop
this peak fast on
wi flame and wood arahnd.
An giz us to believe
as only a mortal kiss
from such as thee sen
as has braved wood
an fire as set us free.
Thas freed us
an a owe thee.”
They fall hard
on each other.
No need of horse
he eases through
her fleshy torc o’ fire
her unbrok torc o’ linden.
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let me light your dark
in flicks with pale blue.
Let me make you cold,
no pulse, confused,
forgetful, tingling
paralysed.
Let my concussive
shock wave lose your ears,
listening, hearing,
give you hypertension,
fixed and dilated
pupils. Inhale burn.
Let me flower over
your skin, feather your
flesh with red tattoo
spindly tree ferning,
fuse your sand into
glassy tubes, twig limbs.
Let me shower live
electrons on your skin
singe hair and clothing
shred or blow apart
your sensible clothes,
explode your shoes from
inside; magnetize
your watch, cuprify
brass grommets, zippers,
while you sacrifice
two dark oxen and
round honey cakes to
placate my moods.
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said to charioteer o sun ” Ma pipes can beat thy harp anyday.” An he agreed an said that winner would av the other. A thort am in here, either way.
So r blew till ma cheeks puffed art like Minerva wat slung
pipe cos it did that an med her look ugly.
a lost, an charioteer has me nar, “Ah-h-h! why r tha now ripping me apart? A pipes not value of ma life!”
Ma living skin is ripped off from ma limbs, ma whole bodies a flaming wound, wi nerves and veins and innards open to air.
An all you grieving folk a shed tears
on fruitful Earth, drop dahn to her deepest veins, as drip moistening dews,—and, gathering as a spout, turned uppards from her secret-labyrinth caves,
to spurt, sparkling, in sun-snogged air, clearest river in land through which fast flows between steep banks dahn to sea: and is named atter us “The Marsyas”
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barks forard flames, raves wi its fire,
an doubles burning heat o’ sun.
Torches earth an shoots its rays,
earth looks forard to holocaust,
tastes its endin’, watta lapped up,
green drained from leaves an grass.
scorching heat too great to wi’stand,
an poorly sick an dyin’ on its own making,
frettin’ in its cremation oven: heat scattered ‘mong star shapes,
and all brought to stop by Clever’ torch single blazin’ ember
‘mong other embers
lobbed inta neet sky
from massive fire at start on it all.
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Siggy falls fo’ Sword Spirit, beautiful
daughter o’ King Eylimi. Siggy
wooes Sword Spirit agin younger kings.
Siggy wins an gets hitched to Sword Spirit
One o’ younger suitors Lyngi says “Tha not ‘aving ‘er. Al av thee bollocks on a spit, first. Thas won battle but not war. I’ll av thee.”
Reight scrap an battle ensues,
fists in heads, lamping one another.
Siggy can’t be defeated ‘cos o’ his sword
as is one only he could pull out
on oak int mead hall.
One Eye arrives wi his invincible spear, Swayer. When Siggy sees
One Eye, he attacks him, when he strikes Swayer, Wrath shatters into two.
At night, Sword Spirit, preggers wi Siggy’s bairn, finds her hubbie still compos on battlefield. Siggy says ” Gather brok bits o’ ma sword, so r son can forge a new un. He’ll avenge me an thy father.”
Lyngi, still wants to marry Sword Spirit,
fails to find her or her treasure.
She’s flitted to Alf, Sea Rover an marries him
Sword Spirit bears a son, she calls Siggy.
Alf, brings up Siggy’s son as his oan
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Atta Counsel’s tale, o’ how
Hugger killed his dad, then turned inta a serpent, Siggy agrees
to help his foster-father get Ottergold
Twice, Counsel meks Siggy a sword,
both brek on anvil. Finally Sword Spirit giz
her son brok bit o’ dead Siggy’s sword.
Counsel forges wi brok bit, Siggy calls sword Wrath. Wi Wrath, Siggy cleaves anvil in two.
Siggy and Counsel go “Glittering Heath”.
Siggy digs a pit to hide in wait for Hugger. When Hugger sups from stream,
Siggy kills serpent wi sharp Wrath.
Counsel wants treasure for himself,
tells Siggy that he will not seek revenge
for killing his brother if Siggy will cut out Hugger’s heart and roast it for him.
Serpent’s heart will gi any man who eats
it power over other men. Siggy agrees.
Siggy roasts the heart over fire,
tests heart to see if cooked,
burns his fingers from juice (heart-blood).
Siggy puts his fingers immediate
in his mouth to cool ’em dahn
an sudden like knows what
bird language means.
Birds tell Siggy ” Counsel will
betray thee
once you eat the heart,
take all treasure fo himsen.”
Bird says ” Bright Battle,
a virgin shieldlass
sleeps within a torc
of Fire at Hindfell”
Siggy strikes off Counsel’s head.
Siggy eats Hugger’s heart himsen.
finds magic finger torc
sword called Brute,
Helm o’ Awe,
an Golden Byrnie.
Siggy,leaves Glittering Heath
trogs north to Hindfell
to chat up Bright Battle.
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One Eye an two mates, Mud King
an Clever Sod stroll Dearne River
an Clever says “Am reight peckish”
“as tha ever ad Otta? Reight nice.
an he waits by bank, rags one
stones its head an skins it.
meks a fire side river, cooks meat.
Soon arrive at fellas house,
who says “That were ma son tha et.”
Small King says “That’s ma changeling
son’s pelt on thee shoulder”
an chains One Eye, Mud King and Clever
“If one o’ thee can pay ransom,
I’ll let thee all go.” King says.
“I’ll sort it, lads.” agrees Clever.
Clever knows a rich lad called Careful
works winding wet o’ River Dearne.
Sat by weir side he waits and waits.
Clever crouches wi net by weir.
Sudden gold fleck flitsup
“Let me go.” cries leaper caught.
“an Careful what will tha gi us
for freein’ thee?” asks Clever.
“All ma gold.” cries Careful.
“an finger torc rahnd thee tailfin, too.”
“Aye, that an all.” and Careful
shows Clever where his gold is hid.
Fetchin’ rich ransom back in otters pelt
to Small King, Careful slips Clevers net,
curses all who use his finger torc.
Seeing rich otter pelt gold packed
Small King releases One Eye an
Mud King, forgets his grief
Brothers Hugger an Counsel say
“Dad can we av share o’ this glitterin’
pelt?”. “No.” says small king.
Hugger steals finger torc .
“Giz a hug, Dad.” an as his Dad does
Hugger slips knife between his ribs.
Counsel says ” Otter pelts rs nar bruv.”
Hugger’s eyes now a snakes.
“Giz a hug, Counsel.” Counsel flits
Hugger’s hunger hoards huge
gold, silver on Glittering Heath
burns all who would have it
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The Wombwell Rainbow 