Dream me.
I am neither asleep nor awake.
I am in parenthesis.
Watching
   With love and remembrance,
I am your heated vision.
This sense beyond the furthest limit
      A new language –
               The stuff
   Waking sleep is made of.
It makes no movement.
An unsaid moment.
Did you call me?
There is laughter in your calling.
The refrain though is mine remembered.
      Notes capturing a shadowless beauty
Beside a shaded meadow,
      Around the blunder/break of sleeping.
Now only the sleep/lightning
   Has my echo.
What can be said? Look around.
I am alive and you must remember.
Although I stumble,
   Listen –
I hear the music of the water
   And dream for it to take me.
Where is this place?
   It is between each birth
     In a timeless tense
Injecting each repeated second.
     Told in whispers before you wake.
   Neither here nor there
     But in reflection.
Waking, no mirror, nothing –

                                             B H Fraser

You flash thing,
You master of the cooking bling.
God, you’d be good in bed – arms, legs, skin,
Even the words unsaid. Good luck then.

Top pudding, number one, legless fun.
You bellied-beast,
Sometimes what’s best is least.
Who claimed you’re good Monsieur Haggis,
‘The Special One’?

What with the knife, Shorty?
That cuts what looks like muck.
Until a light - you realise what luck,
Gold amidst the tripe.
The oozing ‘insides’ rich, as thick as thick.
How about it?

And what’s the deal when you eat this meal?
A burning sensation,
The starving air, starved itself until the pricking:
Fire with energy/
Gloriously rich like all
        Temptation.
A gasp, perhaps a whiff of danger
From that gangster pudding.
His face honest but thin - deadly beast.
A form of midnight porridge,
More fun but rougher on the lips.

Some resist.
A smile, a microwave, a menu,
            Nothing genuine,
Not a word of truth amongst them.
Sauces thinly/sick.
To be this famous -
As slick and slick -
They go by the name
        Of the Cognoscente.

Contrast -
Hair plumméd, shoulders set,
Ready to extend a hand of friendship –
The Immortal Memory.
Flame-throwing son of Caledonia -
Making vegetable into nips,
His words as succulent as chips.
The stomach ready, greedy for the saucy bits.

Transmitter on/Receive:
The power of universal union.
Tune into ‘Radio Pudding’ -
The hairy guy, silent sometimes,
     Can baffle a bit.
You can’t hurry love
And you can’t hurry a haggis.
So now do you fancy me?
And can a night be spent together
Learning the meaning of all eternity?
   Time to eat and say your prayers.

And did those words in City speak
    tell us much about what was said?
And was this secret place still England
    now it's owned by global inc?

And did the governor (himself divine)
    Judge like Mercury upon a whim?
And was mammon raised here
    amidst these bright, intelligent things?

Bring me my bonus of burning zeros!
    Bring me a nod from my manager!
Bring a decent appraisal, o career unfold!
    Bring me a car with two steering wheels!

I shall not rest from making millions,
    nor shall power sleep in my wallet,
until we have built a new Jerusalem
    where money is without limit.

Shall I compare an option to a future?
The thought of all that money is lovely.
Markets are volatile - alleluia.
Wow, the contract has a month longer
And the market's gone loco.
Hey, it could be an opportunity (in such confusion).
As once in a while you get this kind of thing -
To go away in May and come back in September,
Overpowering us happy few with a price
Nobody can remember.
I guess we couldn’t believe it -
The vanity of the forbidden City.
For as long as someone’s able and willing,
There’s always a chance to make a killing.