Killer on the Loose.

There’s a killer on the loose; on the prowl.
The police are applying their know-how
to identify. Won’t throw in the towel.
To carry on killing, they can’t allow.

A stabber with repeated blows and strikes.
All grass blades examined, but can’t find knife.
It is the slaughter moment that he likes.
Takes the weapon to take another life.

Whole town in thrall to murderous intent.
Motive? What category, next victim?
Concerted, the effort with murder meant!
Possible to survive if resisting?

Needs to be caught. Simply cannot allow
killer on the loose; killer on the prowl.

All Remains.

Releasing the body for burial,
after post-mortem examination,
the policeman prayed for a miracle,
for that telling piece of information.

All Remains, to get to the funeral,
and the investigation to proceed.
The body been rendered beyond recall.
Prospect to capture, not want to recede.

The forensic scalpel did its duty,
but clues remained disappointingly few.
Without the weapon to compare and see,
little  but its stabs and strokes to review.

All Remains, to go to the funeral.
Tragically unrecognisable.

The Madman.

Listen now, don’t think of making a sound.
Don’t you know that there’s a madman around.
Be undiscovered. By him, be not found.
It’s safer this way. Unseen. Gone to ground.

Killed a couple already with his knife.
Not bother him taking another life.
If nearby, under cover better dive.
Don’t want anything to do with that knife.

Wait until he has passed. Gone on his way.
Be absolutely sure. Until then, stay.
He will be captured, perhaps killed, some day.
And you’ll be safe with him out of the way.

Until then, don’t let the madman near you.
Don’t want him to be bestial to you.

Depressive Thoughts.

Eminent Psychiatrist globally,
on the radio about depression.
Affects lots of people personally,
including families, by extension.

A western society condition
affecting many who are affluent,
those poverty place in bad position,
and, ‘chemical imbalance’ element.

But not just post-industrial places.
In Africa and Asia, sufferers.
The description “thinks too much” replaces
‘depression’, but the same. Sad thoughts, incur.

Aware of what has gone, … can go, … is, … wrong.
Alas, alack, sad at it, thinking, strong.

New Theory. Origin of Life.

Dispersed energy, originator
of life, according to new theory.
Not understood, starting instigator.
Going back, it’s not at all clear to see.

Atoms and forms of matter miniscule,
when subjected, perhaps extensively,
to right conditions for the miracle,
like heat, light and other intensity,

absorb energy. A crucial build-up.
Speck seeks to cast-off excess into new.
Single, settled grain, extra does disrupt.
Division. The sole cell becoming two.

Surplus energy transforms; the physics.
Dispersal to reproduce. Life exists.

The Brain.

The limitations of a single brain.
For little creatures, basic survival,
subsistence and reproduction sustain.
For their moments in the light, alive all.

Then, humans with quick and complex thinking.
Property, Acquisition, War, added.
And with others’ findings, … mistakes …, linking.
All sorts of new learning well-regarded.

And so the brain, with its computing skill,
has short-cuts to remember and locate.
Can reason and put logic to its will.
To more appreciate, open the gate.

But limited, and there’s self-deception.
Long way distant from perfect reception.

Injury.

It is a young footballers’ injury.
I should not have it. I am far too old.
Why upon me, this painful tyranny?
Just have to let the agony unfold.

Ligament, hamstring, kneecap; disabled.
Slow and arduous, movement has become.
Pain-filled, too. Makes unbalanced, unstable.
No way, should I need to, that I could run.

Wouldn’t mind so much, if scored the winner;
if my efforts helped my team lift the cup.
Feels like effect of a foul, this stinger,
permanent, on my movement, to disrupt.

But it is old bones that war torn and worn.
And sinews and muscles. Goal chance forlorn.

Integument.

Essential element integument.
The cover that’s needed to self-contain.
Certainly no sort of impediment.
Skeleton, without. Life would be in vain.

It’s integument, this flexible skin.
A shell, a coat, with body parts within.
Safely concealed, but all operating.
Like the heart, with all that it does, pumping.

Integument, all of that porous flesh.
So, making it a living, breathing, hide.
Tight connection of holes, like dotted mesh.
Organs, like the cognitive brain, inside.

Functional. In its way, intelligent.
A rind. On the surface. Integument.

Cole Porter. (After seeing the film ‘Delovely’)

Is the song with lust in mind, mocking love?
The passion that’s portrayed, particular?
Still worthy, ‘though it started looking rough?
Got right angle when perpendicular?

Is it a mock-love that the song conveys?
Intensity of desire that’s recalled!
Remembered, but not lasting? Just a phase?
Listener, not knowing, easily fooled?

But what’s transient may be genuine.
Forbidden love. What must be thinking of?
Song set alight as though with kerosene.
Capturing the flame. A meaning of love!

Not mock-love at all, to others, transferred,
or a mockery, however incurred?

Luminous (Love Song). Tribute to Marlene Dietrich.

Luminous, your look. You look luminous.
Shining and glowing. Rude health. Beautiful.
An internal light, in which you can trust,
illuminating your face. See it all.

Lips to kiss there. They’re your lips. Lips to kiss.
Feel through ultra mouth sensitivity.
Taste the tender moistness, as though sprayed mist.
With lips, catch up bodies’ proximity.

Whilst always your look’s luminosity.
As if perfect for the camera lens.
Can’t help personal curiosity,
how facially your bright aura extends.

Exuberance adds to the impression.
Describing you lit-up takes expression.

Green, Painted, River.

Flowing quite fast now, the river current.
Ducks sit on the bank. Their television.
Good forward movement, but not a torrent.
Flying ducks land upon. ‘Safe’, decision.

Murky, muddy, green. Thickness in texture.
Not the lightness or thinness that expect
in transparency of water, more pure.
An oleaginous skein to inspect.

Oil-like passage. Duck with the flow carried,
until, with sideways effort, puts brakes on.
Joined by another. They are unhurried.
Leave Side now, but know the river flows on.

Oil painting. Could not name that blend of green.
Lucky ducks. And me. A pleasure that seen.

The Flehmen Response.

Has a name that’s very largely unknown.
Physical activity in species.
Scenting from upper mouth, the teeth are shown.
Check for mates and rivals in the species.

The scent goes from duct near nasal passage.
Distinct; this its particular function.
From animal waste, picks up smell carriage.
Galvanising pheromones, it functions.

Its technical name, the Flehmen Response.
A bit different for us, one assumes.
Our nose, direct, gets a heady response,
sniffing one of a whole range of perfumes.

Origin there, though, unless mistaken.
If show teeth whilst smell, maybe it’s Flehmen.

Nature.

We are freaks of nature, in existence.
Alive, by a breathing mechanism.
Oxygenated air, with persistance,
converted to human dynamism.

Nature! … close by …, usable …, in our grasp.
But otherwise, too huge, too dense, too deep.
Beyond comprehension. Cannot recast.
Just within own scope to form a belief.

Nature then God?, or, God behind Nature?
It is a force that is immutable.
By being of it, we will be no more.
So strong, makes need for God inscrutable.

So, I just bow to Nature. Like a God.
Need no more, or to pray to like a God.

Trees in Autumn.

Trees with their embroidered cloaks of autumn.
Multi-coloured. Reds and orange and brown.
The sight of the varied many, awesome.
The fallen leaves start covering the ground.

Although beyond, there’s a watery sky,
and a weak Sun through a thin veil of cloud,
the cohort reach majestically high.
The summer heat no more, but still unbowed.

In their duty they are assiduous.
Standing over and protecting the land.
Whether evergreen or deciduous,
stay together strong, and do not disband.

And for this time, colour. Could think of gold,
or rust. The trees autumn presence is bold.