Get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo
Ernest’s waiting Gershwin too,
do just whatever you ever have to do
to get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo.

The Heiress sitting at the bar
she wears a coat of Jaguar,
the Barman fills her Bloody Glass
she drinks it, it drinks her class.

Behans lost the manuscript
beneath the bar it’s sodden ripped,
twas only good for pulp and porn
poor genius drunk from dusk till dawn.

In the dive they tickle keys
the cymbals brushed with kissing ease,
and no one ever seems to leave
before the Sun itself does heave

its mass above the Avenues
where Hausmann built in ordered views,
and Adolf did himself amuse
whilst shipping out the vermin Jews*.

So get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo
for all are gone who passed there too,
and nothing matters from before
it’s just a bar beyond a door.

© Wolfgar 2019

* Vermin Jews, How members of the Jewish faith were consistantly referred to in nazi Germany. Not representative of the authors personal feelings.

While we sleep we’re losing time
the unheard tick a clockwork crime

Our eyes are blind to burning stars
our once smooth flesh replenished scars

Our ears are closed to artful Joys
Cathedral Bells just background noise

Athletic limbs now limp and frail
betray accounts of grand regale

Our silver tongues turned slavering sloth
bed-wetting Slumber on dampened cloth

For all the peace we find in sleep
tis from the waking world we reap

and in that wake our madness grows
till lifeless rest relieves our woes

© Wolfgar 2019

As if being pulled toward a force,
free will became delusion.
Greeted by ashen faces in the shallows, swallowed whole,

powdered with fine crushed bone,
they parted ranks to let me pass.
Stairs of Hyacinth garlands pressed my feet.

Skulls spun on bamboo scaffolds, jaws agape, sockets black,
lemon grass malaria,
Incense spiralled funeral pyres above the canopy.

Heaven reeked too much of life for me,
the Temple held too much of what once was
When all I wanted was to be free.

© Wolfgar 2019

The River steals light
from the Street and from the Stars,
like floating lanterns of reflection
launched from the cupped hands of Gods

the city skies are blinded
where men’s eyes are lit by lesser wonder,
in darkness all that shines distracts
in darkness only the sightless see,

hearing storms in telling trees,
sensing sea salt on the poison breeze,
in days when polar ice caps unfreeze
We bathe ourselves in centuries.

The Estuary feeds the greater wash
the Planet fades tide by tide,
the Moon cannot restrain herself
and floods our world with tears she cries.

© Wolfgar 2019