Watching The Horses

Sporting a flat cap watching the horses,
a proud man gambled on a loser. Rejected
by a beautiful woman he felt nothing.
Her eye shadow smudged, clown-like.
She screamed, she shrieked revenge.
Her red nails clawed, hissed.
She cowered waiting to strike,
fangs shivering.  Her chaos numbed her
senses.  Only blood could ease the pain.
He watched the horse fall.  It's leg cracked:
Snapped The jockey grovelled away,
avoiding the stampede; paid no heed to
The horse lay steaming, whining,
whinnying, snorting, dying.

 

Ten to one the man in the flat cap
wouldn't make it.  He'd spent too long alone.
Animals provided his only real sense of the
world.  Humans were humans. Still trying
to make sense of themselves.
The horse looked sad. An aura. A sentiment.
A tragedy. Not least a survival  without human
intervention. Human pleasure.

The horse, galloping free,  dusting up the
landscape. Bucking.  bowing to its' shallow
master. Shallow thoughts.  A race course.
Not so the land. The green, green land.
Trees. lanes.  Streams of innocence trickling.
Streams of consciousness heckling - Grazing.
off.  Off to wherever the canter took it. To a foal.
Fragile spindly legs. Wobbling from birth.
Protected. A nod. Recognition. A nod of adoration.
A nod of love.

 

Dyed on a race course.  'Cept there's no race.
The pleasure's in the journey.
The end is death. Put down. Fell down.
Fell at Beachy Head.  Only the pleasures
are missed. Goals. Pursuits. Gambles.
Pursuits of happiness. Humans.
Always going somewhere. Gamblers.
Never able to stand still.
 

Excellence, excellence, excellence
A child cried in the corner of a classroom. 
It had failed. On wobbly legs it failed.  No smile
of recognition. No chirp of happiness.
Just a snort of contempt. The man in the flat cap
looked across his land. His land. His money.
His land. A woman in white.  A horse. Backed bare.
Hair flowing. Golden locks curls. Freedom in the wind.
The answer my friend. The horse died.

Someone said: "Look to the buffalo breath

on a cold morning. Dew on the cobweb."

Look to the minks' breath on a shoulder of vanity

Driving down the lane lined with trees. Dressed
in golden leaves. The mist lay waiting. The unknown
appealing. Darkness dressed in cotton. The flat cap
lay on the passenger seat. Dead Can Dance. A call
to prayer.  American Dreaming. He shifted down
a gear. He heard the cold outside. He shifted down,
A gear, he heard the cold outside….he shifted down

 

The tree trunk  - power. They stood for hundreds of years.
They’d seen many drivers passing by. Many mists. They’d
Heard the clippity clop of gentle Greys. In days when
exhausts hadn't coughed the air. Neighing. White
doves in dove coats. An olive branch. Stallions rose
high in victory. White manes; waves of the air. Crashing
rapids of curls. Swirls and pools. Mountains. Green
blue. They stood guard over trees brooks stupid fools
climbed to vain victories. Conquered. While The mountain
laughed. Snowfalls avalanches. Crisp. Sparkling.
‘Yulunga’ wafted through the car. A Jaguar. Teeth bared.
Daring you to pray to gods. A lady wailing hit the air.

 

Screamed through the mist, smashing the screen.
Glass shattered, crisp, sparkling. Sharp. Little razors.
The howling. The vixen cries. Rape. Brutal force. Auras
destroyed. The tower. The secrets. The ghosts. The lady
in waiting. Red nails clawed the old stone. Splinters of rock,
splinters of glass. Shards. Shahs, sheiks or black stallion
deaths. A woman robed. Silk mask with diamond anklets.
Deserted. The sands of time shifted. Trees rocked; creaked.
Groaned. Swayed in the mist. Branches showed the way.
Gnarled; twigged. Witches cackled. A wizened old hag
gazed into her glass globe. Eyes wide: wild. Long spindly
fingers pointed to the cries. Red nails reached out. Grabbed
her throat. Clawing, scraping flesh. The witch shrieked.…….

…….The sheik wailed. The stallion lay bleeding.
Eyes pleading. The foal bowed, pleaded. The gambler
threw away his slip. It wafted in the wind, through the leaves,
the mist. Floated. Caught or gusted. Disgusted. The man wept.
The sheik clapped his hands while the hashish departed. The
woman threw herself to the ground. Begged for mercy. He
gathered his robes, snapped. proud. Unmoved. Collect your
thoughts; muster courage to continue. Don't lack the will to
see this to it's end. Chaos be life in disguise. Meanwhile,
A child sat gluing magazine cut-outs to a large piece of
white paper. It wasn't a collage. His mother stood guard,
watching his every move. the child of just four years old
was capable of  the unimaginable. The mother watched
as her child stuck a picture of the devil  To the Pope.
Oh God she thought What’s going on Jimmy
What are you  Doing Nothing Mum…

 

…..I’m watching the horses.