HITLER’S DAFFODILS

Wonderful proud clusters,

Quiet in green shirts on the bank,

Standing tall to herald the inoffensive Spring,

Your shiny golden best is breathtaking.

Nurtured by the nihilistic darkness,

Bulbous in blunt armoured love,

Life is unfolding in floods of sap,

Soaring to parade.

Such unquestioned lemon brightness,

Unbidden in the wicked wilderness,

And the staring little man passes,

Distorted, distracted:

Grotesque reflection

Of horror and light.

You remain oblivious,

Uniformly erect in your single pleasure.

Colin Morgan  

WHERE

I imagine running with you on golden sand
Pressed between toes
Laughing to the laughing blue water
To swim free
To run and taste the wind
To lie in the dusty warmth

To see green, hear gentle summer sounds
On days so long that they wrap around
and fingers on clock time stick in the afternoon

To gently tease away the edges of the mind
leaving a flood of calm

Taking in real life on an island



Colin Morgan 
  

OUTSIDE SPACETIME

Let me out - freedom spirits august reason
Sending each thought with passion

Think of here as bent from time
The objects fickle as young love

Think of soul as forever bent away from time
To stand spired through reality forever

Think of body as ruled by rules
Subject to a cliff top fall

Think of love - love beyond reason
As lasting outside the universal all

Meeting souls meld in fever
Allowing the dot forever to fuse

As death removes us from clock world
This moment - it can never close


Colin Morgan  

MY COMA, MY WORLD

The news of my demise is premature, but I cannot refute it.

The machine I occupy knows the date and time, but not I.

The radio may speak, sing and dance, but I pay no heed.

My Facebook page is a lasting memorial I cannot see.

I am still sixteen and unformed, but old as a Pharaoh,

And like them, I lie hidden away for an age.

In this place there is no darkness, but my eyes are closed.

There is a chink in my doom, but no light penetrates.

The game is a plan filled with waiting, hope and stillness.

Those that love me are holding me close, far scattered as they are.

Those I love are hovering around me, and though I am so heavy in them,

They reside as bubbles that float and bump above my bed.

The clock on the wall, watching, makes no comment.

My months are rolls of the Moon, yet the Earth is still.

Medicine may be my true friend, but not just yet.

As I lie here on this threshold, in sight of the Light, live on for me.

Take each day you are granted, with me inside you,

And let my love play in the sunlit fields of your mind.

Colin Morgan