The Effect of Moon on Men

A late hour is not good for men
A certain madness faintly strikes
Messes with the their where, mixes their when
Phantastical notions form about what a man likes

It is the hour of dreamers unasleep
The clock ticks disapprovingly in the half-moon
It is the hour which makes women weep
Over men who run for things too soon

At this hour a moonwards man might fly
Intoxicated by the fresh breath of night
With words springing to his lips in casual lie
As a thousand dreams and hopes take flight

The Wonder Sense

Do not be fooled by scientists in coats
Let not journals throw off your hunt
Ignore the professorial gloats
There is no one you need be in front

Forget museums of dusty bones
Turn your back to ivory towers
Discover what for you are unknowns
In beautiful new excited hours

You are the discoverer of your seas
You are mapper of your uncharted
Adventure with only you to please
A quest not for the faint-hearted

James Peter Wolfe, 22 August 2013  ©

Oxford Stones

Oxford stones writhe and breathe
Oxford stones are living fantastic things
Angels wings, fairy stools, dragons wings
Were Oxford ceased so would I cease to be

Oxford was my song, my dance, my joy
Place of beginnings for endless quests
East after East, West after West
Palaces of tout bene neu

And if those Oxford stones could speak
They would bear bold bardic witness
To a thousand intellectual kisses
At a place where three roads meet

James Peter Wolfe, 21 August 2013  ©

Cool Metal

I say cool metal yeah on the skin
It’s a chill chill all around feeling
Chilling outside chilling within
Making life yeah more appealing

You gave me your so tired eyes
Your clothes crusted with tired sweat
Now now it’s time for goodbyes
As hello life we just met

Swing around life in a whirl
Joyriding off that cool metal chill
Makes me a boy makes you a girl
Sparkling, bubbling with life of will!

James Peter Wolfe, 21 August 2013  ©

Innocent

I gave you a heart you covered in colour and dross
You stumbled, stumbled, falling all over
You thought you were utterly lost
Doomed as a lost soul to eternally rover

You held on clinging on gripping on for life
Through the cold sharp winds and piercing rain
You grappled as knuckles scraped under a knife
And you made it through again and again

Somehow you reached the point of stillness
The quiet stripped cleaned dross all away
And watered down colours of heart illness
Now innocent, truly innocent, is your way

James Peter Wolfe, 21 August 2013  ©

Insomnia

Insomnia comes in different flavours
It prickles like a spider walking across the eyelids
The scan of a night’s hours to savour
Passing time is trapping one in a matrix of grids

Insomnia, does it have a cure?
Let out the cat, let in the dog
Throw insomnia too out the front door
Or wander on in permanent half-light fog

Some think too much and some too little
Perhaps a life of joys is for
One who delights easily in tat and tittle
For he is entertained and at peace of not war

James Peter Wolfe, 18 August 2013  ©

The Physical Impossibility of Life to Someone Dead

There is no nothing
No moment no stillness
No end certainly no beginning
No emptiness no fillness

If death is opposite of life
A stop and total cease to be
No ideas and no naïf
No observer and nothing to see

Then life is inconceivable
There is no eternal vital spark
Logic even is unreasonable
Just a stop unseen in the dark

James Peter Wolfe, 15 August 2013  ©

Voice from the Crull

I am captain of the Crull
Captains have had worse fates
At least it’s not a job that’s dull
Alright I’m a pirate for moneys sakes

Pity was my Mother and Bitter was my Father
With a heart so stormy tossed
I went to the waves white lather
And found myself happily lost

Am I unfairer than lifes been to me?
Could I rob or cheat you more
I’ll answer like the cold unforgiving sea
I am the natural ending of lifes maw

James Peter Wolfe, 14 August 2013  ©

If this is dying

If this is what it is like to pass
I don’t think much of it
It really seems quite a farce
To not mind nary a bit

If dying can be beautiful
And filled with rose honeyed moments
Wonderful then becomes dutiful
And life becomes a little romance

I’m catching that last breath
Feels as amazing Swiss air it feels
Come life my lover give me a last caress
For it is happiness I steals

James Peter Wolfe, 14 August 2013  ©

The Sciencetist

Science goes overracing so far ahead
From the altar of the hidden lab
Comes news filling all with secret dread
Excepting happy dead on the mortuary slab

The formulae of the elite priests run
Everyman gaze up in wonder
At the new midnight sun
Only backs of minds hear the thunder

Blinded stumbling and claiming to see
The poor Everyman trusts and is trampled
He had no right to be or breathe free
As in the rush for reason common sense is trampled

James Peter Wolfe, 13 August 2013  ©