Fern Hill

At 1:49 you will see the esteemed Mr Jakes reading a line from Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas for the 100 year anniversary. Diolch/Thanks for watching, it was an honour to take part.

The Drink and I

5 Second Poem for Poet's Day

Today is National Poetry Day so here is a quick recital of a piece that came straight from the top of my head for the camera. No notes, no thought, simply press RECORD and this emerged. It sounds like I say "Tides" rwice but the second time is TIMES. Just something different I decided to do rather than rehash something written months ago. Makes poetry more interesting, more alive I feel.

Enjoy!

Steven xx

Reading from BratNews

I am currently working on a new play, "BratNews", which has been inspired by the internet and its many forums. Its still in its very early stages but in attempt to beat to death, I decided to put this up in case, God forbid (and I hope im not jinxing myself here) something happened to me before it was finished. I would hate to have this disappear without trace. And even if it is only the title and bare bones idea, that 'makes it', then that is better than nothing.

Diolch/ thanks

Steven

At the Farm Window

The horizon sulks with a gallows on its back
hanging dead wood and sinking stars
as curried clouds clamour for the night.
In my left eye, daffodils and newborn rabbits
cower from deadly weeds and satanic looking wolves
frozen in my glassy right.
Nature, as far away as television had intended,
halts granite ravens with mossy riffs
for butter lilies to rise from dew,
the morning glass.

A sightless explosion,
mother seeds in union
shattering the window with a mortal blast,
kneel deep in those wild, clove prayers...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Throat for Porno

C*cks in silver sheaths
guiding lights to thorny aisle
as clothes look on
(their legs broken by moral foxes)
crumpled from too many triple censors and litter puppy halos.
Banish XXX fiends to hell,
send them to daytime television
and let Poundland scriptures
wrench their groins from penny sands.

Oh my God this boy watches porno!
Wrench his slow worm guts
and toss them to hell,
lest chance befalls the devil's dick
to muddy virgin coves.
Run! Run! Flee from flesh!
Strip it from next door thighs of virtue,
shield natural modesty from obvious monsters...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Politics, Thanks

There is no need
for later thanks
or awards for pints poured
after ages flow.
No need for small dicks
in shallow holes,
tongues tossed by eager crowds,
or postponed portraits
that lead to masturbation.
The wolves will come when all is done
when the wait is over,
and words ignored by drainpipe friends
soon become gospel through green spires...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Remembrance View

This thing kept spinning a soft yarn in my mind, like a butter burn etching its tune into my brain. Thought I would shre the damned thing and see if it infects others.

Over Solemn Walls

Got to name the perfect dead
when once they lay that indulgent head,
sin looks no good on silent frame
hang a halo on saintly names.

No more fault, no lies to tell
the bad it sinks into the well,
bones begone under graveyard stair
ignore the fire that got you there...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Wake Now, Horizon

Come 100 years
swift on a minutes trail
where footprints lead to blind valleys,
time is simmering.
Wild nettle haven ,
a childhood deja-vu,
time all hallowed ground
already sunk when we were kings.

And time not so eternal
rises in our throats
as we twist busy necks for better views,
to choke those sanguine dreams
of hemlock lords and angels.

Man leaves without whisper
as mortal bones care not to scorch the shilling earth.
Into scented trenches fall,
reminding nought of favoured hymns
or food.
Our mark here fades
as tails leave for the cancer doors...

© Steven Francis poems 2013

Alko Instrukto

Behead those lion heads
who bathe on lotion sands
and twist the fire to replace yoga
with wretching.
Take away the skin plug
and water gags;
install grave
cover with masticated gauze
and proceed, pro seed!

Oily cheating wounds stunned by shame.
Lo behold the bruised flytraps
as heads roll and teeth chip,
a surge toward the liquid gallows.
these mourning arms need execrise in craving.

And when all the tales
lay spent like barking dames,
the autumn bandsaws shreik quiet
at the oblivion of blowfish feet...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Gizzzard Yaga

Frog Morton
frog Morton
lead the boys to their dune,
witches on stars
those goombas on ink
frog healer dance to your tune.

Ferret heart
ferret heart
straight until ya bend,
leather giblets
from grilled moles
carnivorous sonnets to the end...

© Steven Francis poems 2013

Scarred by Bambi

Scarred by Bambi
as a child,
tricked into believing
that soft is the wild.
Oh idle wishes
of a Disney mind,
those yoghurt souls
fooled and blind.

Shun burger pools
with thy lily hearts,
think flower toothed lions
and candy stars.
Hop and skip
to the panthers lair,
care not for lost limbs
which take you there.

Amen Amen
wild is the God,
who put His creatures
on mortal sod.
And two by two
those animals follow
'Fluffy' and 'Tufty'
your blood will swallow...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

The Banyan Tree

The Banyan tree!
The Banyan tree!
Pray to never see the Banyan tree!
Where shadows dance in locust fits
and werewolf silhouettes prey
on those pray.
Empire of ghosts
orchestra of undead
worship the gods to hatchet the tree.

The Banyan tree!
The Banyan tree!
Darkness holds the devil
in the Banyan tree.
And where she roots
anfgels fall
because the devil holds darkness
in the Banyan Tree...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Burry Port

The Leather Ass of a Hollywood Dracula

Stars, all born to fade
as knives cry victory in Mercedes footwells
under the shadow of bitter, neon columns
where fame is just a ring~tailed cur.
Golden gods shaped with the sincerity of tabloid pus,
that lottery of demons for kid minded outlaws.

Burger joints and L.A.X,
hanger of the damned.
Glamour zombies miming a perfect bad world
of love and murder,
its a dull blast this bomb.
Hollywood, HollyGrief
the birdman of a dislocated Alcatraz...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Funeral Skirt

Oh raven sheathed ankles
fuelling abandoned passion,
as I drop these eyes
not in mourning but sincere lust,
to imagine rowing the boat uphill.
Drop the hem
and let us raise a bomb together...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Jade of Night

I only speak with family in dreams
where eyes are flat and voices low.
No longer trees go by in seconds flight,
life is hesitant where tombstones grow.

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Grimace (Or Not for Dogs)

Stay that heel
assassin of night,
dont make me dead just yet
for my head is too full of random errands
to be the death I must eventually become.
And while the minds eye tumbles over boggy meadows
my heart slices the khardoma sun,
needing one more blink
to breathe before I suffocate.

And then after sips of maple syrup
will I fold my cadaver
into fountains of earthy whiskers
and give my morbid hand to the tantrum shore...

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Friend Of Waves

Rag doll bounce
'God help me' words
as you sink like a mole
beneath watery hole,
goodnight sweet forget-a-lot
adieu.

Bikini innards
twitch zombie strobe,

heil heil the summit floor!
For sale
forget the ale,
smorgasbord mama
help!

Revelations 999
flip six six six,

kidney Dostoyevsky.
Werewolf smiles
bedouin miles,
reap the
Titanic, sink...

©Steven Francis poems 2013