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he stood with wailing tempest, pd lyons

he stood with wailing tempest

against the unjust world
as if a howling protest
could bring insanity to sense

he thought the problem
was they couldn’t
he saw how clearly
that they could
his heart broke by their simple truth
not couldn’t but wouldn’t


Bagdad Dove

boomerz by pd lyons


I live only in memory
The day to day does not inspire me
I only want to sit here think about what used to be.

Here only in my own home.
Locked doors, paid taxes, insurance policies, protect me.
TV,  petrol chemicals, nourish me.

People not like me outrage me.

Blue jean Jimmy by PD Lyons Poetry re The Wind Cries Mary by #Hendrix











Smoke Sat leaning

Head across

Your Mary knees

Said no one ever played this song for you


This then

was before empty blue tomorrows


This then

was everything possible

No blue but the sky for reaching


This then

was every wide-open 

breath fled after you


All Now ,

is left.

Only ghosts, the past.

Only here, Wishing smoke.

And how can anything be created besides memory?

Ever altering

Ever moving memory

Like love

Like our wide-open kisses

Like our smoky Jimmy

Playing Mary.


she to her own personal buddha. words and photos by PD Lyons



she  to her own personal buddha




the answer

same again.


of course she said smiling at her self



 as if in reiteration

the buddha





Urge for Going, poetry by Joni Mitchell song versions by by Tom Rush, Joni & Mary Black

I know this is from the beautiful poet Joni Mitchell but the song version I first heard was by Tom. I’ll include a version by her and one by Mary Black , another of my favourites. But first I Invite you
 to read the poetry before you listen  to the songs.
Today the sky is steel grey and the winter has found it’s way back. Snow and the outside air hurts my fingers…
So give it a read and a listen yeah? Tell me he don’t make that guitar skate like  sharp blades upon a black ice lake….
I awoke today and found the frost perched on the town
It hovered in a frozen sky, then it gobbled summer down
When the sun turns traitor cold
And all trees are shivering in a naked row
I get the urge for going but I never seem to go
I get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in
I had me a man in summertime
He had summer-colored skin
And not another girl in town
My darling’s heart could win
But when the leaves fell on the ground
And bully winds came around pushed them face down in the snow
He got the urge for going and I had to let him go
He got the urge for going
When the meadow grass was turning brown
And summertime was falling down and winter was closing in
Now the warriors of winter they gave a cold triumphant shout
And all that stays is dying and all that lives is getting out
See the geese in chevron flight flapping and racing on before the snow
They’ve got the urge for going and they’ve got the wings so they can go
They get the urge for going
When the meadow grass is turning brown
Summertime is falling down and winter is closing in
I’ll ply the fire with kindling and pull the blankets to my chin
I’ll lock the vagrant winter out and I’ll bolt my wandering in
I’d like to call back summertime and have her stay for just another month or so
But she’s got the urge for going so I guess she’ll have to go
She get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And all her empires are falling down
And winter’s closing in
And I get the urge for going when the meadow grass is turning brown
And summertime is falling down
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Joni Mitchell
Urge For Going lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Crazy Crow Music / Siquomb Music Publishing,
Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

ruff, by pd lyons

how many times have I thought to see you there?
after all these years – damn near 40
don’t I still imagine I come round the wooded path way bend
and by that turtle pond somehow you’re there

ghosts haunt the places that the living know
it has nothing g to do with where they died
ghosts haunt this place where I grew up
where I first saw you naked
and you broke my heart open before I even knew I’d love you

I know I won’t ever see you now
but if promises can be made to ghosts
then someday soon I’ll meet you here again
golden apples silver apples
pine needles on a summer day patch of grass back by the old turtle pond

wonder is a natural response to beauty

wonder is a natural response to beauty

from: Searches For Magic, Lapwing Publications, Belfast – by PD Lyons

The Good Daughter

Do not fear the world.

It will never yell as loud as your father.

It will never be as oblivious as your mother.

If you must, forgive your parents;

Not for their denying you, but

For their faithlessness which caused their

Willing sacrifice

To that god of scarcity.

Do not fear the world,

For despite all the hungry gods invented,

There has always been The Goddess.

from Searches For Magic, Belfast Lapwing,2001

ISBN 1 89472 59 9

the veil

today’s writing play list #JazzIsDead #RoyAyers #SynchronizedVibration

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Download the full ‘Jazz Is Dead 001’ Compilation here:…

Winter Solstice Blessings


The longest night when light returns

The candles flicker, spirits yearn

Crisp moon, ice breath and silver stars

That shine through light years from afar

On this dark night all things renew

But visions eclipse, none in view

The winter’s lessons hard and bleak

Are only for the strong to seek.

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Trần Băng Khuê | The Caterpillars contained in jars (5)


By Trần Băng Khuê, translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

The Caterpillars contained in jars 

I often have these strange dreams about caterpillars.

They are the most lively entities I have the pleasure and patience to observe, though I’m fearful of their ominous spiky skin. I’m now acquainted with their movements, wriggling in the trees, the ground. Including when they abandon reality for a world in my dreams.


The summers draw forward layers upon layers of old memories in the yellows of flower petals, reds burning in canopies in every avenue I’ve come across, the pauses of my childhood. Yes, we all have memories of glorious summer dreams on butterfly wings. But, watching the caterpillars perched upon the branches and red flowers fall off, a nightmare. Being confronted by caterpillars is terrifying enough. The lingering fear is always there hovering in the subconsciousness to show up in new dreams.

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