Peter Lilly: Poems

The stone spire of the palace Dwarves the corner tower of an aged house Fish scale tiles spiral upwards Next to odd chimney pots; Uniform in height and not in style Un-assimilated tin cans of varying contents Organized in two regiments One of four, one of six. Below the ‘Stag In’ is quiet busy A grey haired man who is Scotland sips a beer Sat next to his small white dog; Wise beyond it’s years, it speaks of a town That change only breathes through; Aging and weathering, Not where that change resides; Replacing and digitising. As belonging as the valley-settlement lining peaceful waters A young family tessellates with streams and bridges Dwelling the town which dwells the valley Rustic leather beanbags of postmodern double coding Support the weight of life. A child plays the tin whistle As though painted in by an artist; Fascinated by ideals, Or written into a piece composed by a boy In love with cliché So much so, this is fresh and natural. Eight trees shade a unique sanctuary A conven...

Uniform stripes of anti-sight shadow Score guidelines across opaque reflexes, Reaction products cling to the magnet floor, Scraps of identity stare at the respiring occupant From lofty two dimensional houses Of random placement And subconscious recognition. Summer 2007

Licks of deep heat Redden relaxing skin Tired throat apprecietes this rest, The collection of what’s important Is interrupted by Frustration snapping peace The reason for lying in heated ground Under the first revelation of summer; Queued too late, but shouting To make up for lost time After flood-boredom beat Rain of closed roads And cancelled gigs A broken reel. Written whilst recording with my old band on a forced break, because the reel-to-reel player broke. trying not to get too frustrated we sat outside and did our best to enjoy the sun. This would be the last opportunity of recording some of our songs before we all headed off to different universities. Also the summer of the floods in Gloucestershire, which had caused about 4 gigs to be cancelled. Written: Summer 2007

Please try to mitigate The pained dilapidation Digging up the roots of Tired respiration Exhausted painters try To capture the essence Of absence of substance With out their sense of smell Sleepy doctors are stuck Lusting for their patients Pillows; but time delays Prescribed what they don’t know Each with naturalistic Fallacy found inside As Hippocrates own Assisted suicide Oaths are hidden beneath The filthy aim of thirst Decadence un-defied Collects itself and worse Oppressing each wall with Bloated pressure; excess Misguided ambition Mislabelled as success Learned star gazers star Motionless and the ground Honestly asking why In space they’re hearing sound Unaware of the air The lungs of men receive You, enslaved by passion Forget the need to breathe Necessary numbness Does no longer exist Ignorance is poison Increasing deadliness The voiceless worker and Anarchic protestor Dig for myths in concrete Whilst truth begins to fes...