My Hurricane - The Blue Aeroplanes

My hurricane is here, humming through phone wires

And humour, near tears maybe but part of life

You hurricane will be God’s signature

Signing organdy fields and foliage in squares of organised history

Calm light and bitter winds.

These hills have seen more blood

That this.

The landscape is littered with peace

And surrounded by roads.

Smoketree on the horizon

Your hurricane is for the dispossessed and the names of saints

Mine is the heart to heart and the pulse that races

This is a dark song

And no mistake

Take this gun and shoot

This is a tv

And this is a street

And the man who loves you is lost

Clean and neat, where the water meets the shore

Old buildings are propping up the sky

Heading out to sea, what a lot of boats!

The wind stinging the eyes, drink stinging the throat

She’s dressed for the bedroom on a clifftop in autumn

Staring unfocused at overcast skies

Let’s go and point a mountain, eat comme chez soi

And burn the soul cats from their homes

This is a folk song

And no mistake

Take my gun and shoot

This is a tv

And this is your room

And the man who loves you is you

The writing in the sky shows we’re not at home

Advertising music, it shows we’re not alone

Its characters look like faces, local commercial

Priapic and car crash, dollyrich.

You’re right to be scared

Your lover’s left

Your friends are right

And nothing is what you hold

But getting old

And killing things

Is the natural order of the world

And let me tell you something else dear

This is not your country

You just live here

Back home, there are boy racers heading for the bridge

The tracks of tyres and the smoke from fires, guns in the hold

Marks of past volcanoes and wars, trees and churches

Broken by history and surrounded by new towns.

Also

A preview of coming attractions, nakedness uncovered

Unreasonable suspicion.

Look out your rear window and update!

Little girl prove a masculine point, pretty little cockatoo

Should smash his jaw.

My hurricane does not exempt me

Remember that green, that’s the green of the green man

The colour of the world that knew Saracen

Before Iraq and Iran

There were the heathen and the Christian gentlemen

Your hurricane does not exempt you, but mine can

Fires into the sea like mouths, fires under the water

There are lupins growing on ash, there graphs like fir trees

Nursery plants for a new forestry on Mt St Helens.

Let’s go

New lands with better order may have better parties

Sorry, caller, we’re out celebrating a successful

Border crossing.

Signed under fire