Mad words, bad words

Fled, sped through brain

Talking up a mental storm

Sowing, growing again

Poking, stoking a last lightening bolt

Exploding a chamber, in an unsound colt

Raining, draining

Words, energy all around

As the skeleton smiled sweetly

At the closing ground


Faster, faster 

The dancing man swirled

Twirling balletically

For the ghoulish world

Shouting, pouting

At the spinning mop top

Bloody hell! he's jumped

It's a hell of a drop


Floating above gloating

He soared as they roared

Losing a mind's pain

From an Earthling's brain

Flying with yellow beaked angels

Hang gliding into new birth

Gravity racing, sand embracing

To kiss the advances of the surf



Sun bleached bones, caressing cockles

Massaging mussels, in salty, sparkling wine

Distant dreams of becoming a fossil

An exhibit  from a happier time


And the rain fell to dwell

On the bloody pulp of hell

Down, down, down on the ground

Once so perfect, once so round

Now so flat, now so still

The crowd gasped its last

As the night swallowed its beach-kill


But, there would be no fluttering police tape today

To keep the rubber necked back from the affray

No black holed, black glazed, spooky van

No undertaker's magic on an invisible man

No sunken faced lifeboat crew

No coastguard van bedecked in blue

No unemployed ambulance man

No helicopter scything sea air, with its fan


For a samaritan up on the cliff path

Had saved the dying day

A glowing lady up on the cliff path

Fleetingly smiled his way

Bringing warmth through stubble

To anchor human rubble

In safe harbour for now

No, no, no cliff top prow


Back crossing the seafront road a picture stared

Knees buckled, as his old soul was bared

Missing person - have you seen this man?

Oh, dear God, how he missed that man

Hooting, tooting, people shouting in vain

Ambulance man's arm, cranking up the merry-go-round, again 


Michael Ashby Poems

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