SHORT STORY – EMPTY

alifelesslived

A back lane coffee shop in old Malacca town, May 2019

Devoid of colour this coffee shop has more character and clarity. A good setting for a story. The decor is very 1970’s, especially the upholstery, there’s a smoothness that just aches to be caressed.

I see her approach through the murky glass. The coffee shop is empty. It’s late, almost closing time. Carrying her bags. She’s packed. She’s going to that place I can’t find her. Looking for herself among ruins. Beyond our shores. I regret using the words over the phone, I should have told her face to face like a gentleman. I guide her to my table, my hand on the small of her back, she flinches but I feel her warmth through her gossamer shirt.

She puts her bags on the floor and stares at me, I deserve this, her indifference and nonchalance. She’s always had…

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Weathered cavort

Cold nights carry.
The message of existence.
On which fingertips we dance.
With death and the devil.
Such borrowed time.
In sweet sublime apathy.
We sleep each night.
While the storm rages.
Though cold nights make way.
For sultry dawns.
Which promise a ballet.
With hope and the angels.
On sweaty palms.
Open to a change of air.

Saint

You carried this heart, when it was aching and poor.
Dead to a world, that didn’t fit anymore.
Through rivers and dark, through pain and the trees.
You coated with love, and sucked out the diseases.
Now the day becomes night, and cold creeps on in.
Yet you keep me so warm, and you block out the sin.
And though tired yourself, you keep the fire burning.
As my eyes begin to close, and the world keeps on turning.
Where there is horror, there is also a twinkling light.
In the image of you, that feels holy and right.
So we turn to you when, the need is the most.
When all that we feel, is the touch of a ghost.
Though sacred you are, I can reach through the soul.
And cover my eyes, in the divine to become whole.
Where once there was an empty space in this life.
You’re now nailed to my love, that cuts deep like a knife.
For you do not covert and keep for your own.
This love and redemption that lies in the unknown.
As I’ve seen you wash away all my fears.
In your kisses and whispers, and your golden light tears.

Cataclysm and collapse

Dipped in honey and gold, the future is sold.
Shimmering in the moon which tumbles to the earth.
Spread this skin out, count each cell.
Pick out the cancer and the coughing of indignity.
The devil licks at the wounds.
As angels weep sticky red tears.
I tremble in my state of knowing.
Feelings escape like weighted balloons.
Tomorrow stubs them with its cigarette days.
Covering us all in ash and despondency.
Where did the light go that shattered.
Who stole the hope that I hidden out of reach.
These day, this time; when all is lost and circles like a fish in pond.
Around nothing but the headache same as yesterday.
The truth is not stale, yet seems so familiar.
And time has run out, and so the world burns.
As I look into the eyes of change, I know now they are dead.
I know now, so are we.
A wreck in that pond where the fish swims in circles.
Collapsed and afraid.

Glass black box

A vibration stems from the soil, creeping up the path.
Into the bones and the brains, a humming remains.
What stains the insides like a smear of the past.
Just memories and bits of self.
I buried it all as the clock thundered.
As the skies exploded in a sea of lightening.
Veins cracking the heavens like the strikes across my eyes.
The box is glass and fragile.
The contents heavy and sad.
Black like tar and the sticky oil of failed dreams.
Colour is not needed, for no one is to see.
To bury is to put aside.
Covering it with mother earth who dies a little more each day.
Who will find it? I do not know.
But it lays there now, like my ashes will one day.
A pound of flesh, and tears of regret.
The cinders of wishes that were wasted.
Inside the box they can cry together.
Silently, as those above do not care to hear.
So with this lightened heart I move.
From the pines to the eucalyptus air.
Stumbling across the sands, where I fear other boxes may dwell.
Waiting to be smashed apart.
Or cracked like the fragile glass hearts of tomorrow.

Left Waiting & Other Poems

The Stories In Between

I just realized I haven’t mentioned my newest book since its release day.

Available in eBook or paperback from Amazon

Thank you to everyone who has already purchased a copy and if you haven’t left a rating/review on Amazon or Goodreads, I would really appreciate if you would take the time to do so.

Also, Potter’s Grove Press has set up a merchandise store over at Teespring.

Mugs, t-shirts, stickers, etc. Stop on by and have a look, if you so desire.

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Manifest the everyday nightmare

Partie un:

You motioned for me to quietly enter the room. I could feel the tenseness of the air. The walls seemed to contract and wrap themselves around me. You sat there with no expression on your face. That face, the one I had touched so many times. Kissed it, smelt it, longed to be near enough to it to count your eyelashes. Now it glared back at me like an empty pool. The lights began to flicker, stuttering out their watts in a rhythm I can only attune to the beat of your heart. The gun didn’t bother me, it was aimed at my head throughout but I knew this was all leading to something. The beginning of the end.

(I noted that it was aimed here and not my heart…maybe you’d finally figured out, there wasn’t one in this body of mine)

This part of the Jeykll and Hyde, this side of crazy. You asked me to sit down, the first time you’d spoken. Little daggers aimed at my ears, rushing with the blood and fresh thoughts to my head. You were so cordial, yet each word spat at me like kids on a council estate. I chose to stand, my one last defiance in our petty war. You told me there was something for me on the table, I looked down to see a wooden box.

You told me to open it.

This was not what I expected. Your look gave nothing away. Nothing except hurt burning from your eyes and an anger that could not by concealed. The box lay in a pool of blood, thick and viscous, floating on this horrific sea.

Deuxième partie:

Your eyes dared me to ask you what it was, like I didn’t know. The deluded pleas of the guilty, while all around the judges think of what punishment would be best fitting. The dying cat of curiosity rose and fell within me, and I turned away. I could not look, I could not commit to the ending so willingly. The metal felt cool against my temple, though it was your smell that made me aware of what you were doing. It crawled over me like the scent of the sea.

The gun clicked. I felt your soul near and shut my eyes, longing for you to turn my head and kiss me. Those days were long gone. A quick stab in the back. The knife that had, but till a moment ago, seemed mysteriously absent sent the tiny nerves in my body cascading like fireworks. Your mouth came close to my ear and you whispered the words I never believed you would utter. As if pulled from a dream.

(Truth is, you never said these three words with any conviction that would render it believable in the past, yet something told me this was the cold hard truth that my mind was digesting).

The sound of birds filled the room, and forced me to open my eyes. I turned and saw you there, eyes aflame and a soul locking its door forever on me. Never to be seen again by my pathetic searching pupils. Feathers fluttered down upon us as the ceiling filled with vultures, gathering and yearning with their hungry beaks. Their black hisses and calls split my ears. The box on the table flew open and out poured the remaining blood that flowed towards us like sticky lava. The contents bobbed on the surface momentarily before submerging into the crimson depths.

I sighed, you grabbed me and kissed me full on the mouth. You then sighed as I turned the gun and shot us both.

Partie trois:

No reasons, all feelings. Moving in a spaced state devoid of structure and responsibility. Bloody and weeping like the tears of a god. Wounds can split like the red sea. A hatred is awakened. After this, just indifference.

You watch as the violence hangs in the air. Feathers fly like tuffs of snow. Little teeth roll in my head like a stone in a can. A jingle like Christmas bells. The red of the season. How many times had you pulled that trigger? Which one of us started the fight? A rage had descended months ago. Welcomed in to the cold like a long lost cousin.

(If you were to ask me if love was still a figure in this theatre, I would have nodded a reply that confirmed my sad loyalty to the romance of death. Still, love can save the day right? Love is a weapon of choice.)

The room feels small and crowded. The bodies on the floor gasping for air and space. What died there that day, was only hope. Lust would always remain. Tragedy was the best re-frame for boxing that moment in our history. I pulled you off my skin, and spat out the tooth that had pierced my tongue. Like many words that came off as daggers, the tooth had left its bloody mark.

The box remained, the contents gone. Washed away in the crimson chaos. I would find it again, I was sure of that. But for now, agony and pain were to be swallowed and sanctified.

And as our ghosts left the room, stained in red, their heads hung down. Pulled by shame and gravity, wondering where it all began. Two little shadows quietly wept in the corner. Is this you and me, is this all the good that is left? Broken and crumbling in sad pathetic tears?

I would never know, because you shot them too.

‘Black Snow’ – Out now

She’d be back of course, she planned to return. But for now she had to make her escape, she had to move while there was still time.

Pulling the door silently shut behind her, she turned from her house that she had called home most of her life and made her way to her car. It would be a familiar trip, but time was not on her side. Even now she felt the chill in the wind whip around her face, the icy fingers finding their way to into her skull beneath the tissue and thoughts.

Snow….



cover

OUT NOW
in eBook and Paperback

(un)Like treasure

You hold the keys to the sky.
An endless blue which promises forever.
I have the lock of an ocean.
Depths as deep and as cold as snow.
In dreams.
There is no harm.
But the mist rises on tomorrow and the sky darkens.
Don’t you want me to stay?
An honesty now hangs off the stars tonight.
The moon offers nothing at all.
Your eyes echo the voice of your heart.
A fleet, a fissure; a retreat to the start.
As the day breaks like a cracked egg.
Your clouds roll on.
Offering me the sweet glimpse of light that bursts from your mouth.
Forgiveness comes at a price.
And the treasure that’s paid was once in my depths.
Covered in sand and sadness.
It now glimmers in the morning dawn.
Melting over your eyes like the sky.

Black snow: Tales & poems in the snow drifts of life

(For Gina)

The snow rarely falls, and the coldness rarely touches the bones. Yet this is the wish of one who lives on the equator, longing for the white dusting. When it comes, it can be black or white. Light or dark. Little snowflakes created by circumstance. Too long has a black snow fallen, for once the real frozen landscape is coming.

Real snow is about to descend.

cover

OUT NOW

Solitude sometimes completes

Quiet is the night that falls into me.
Spreading the inky blackness all over my soul.
God smears it on my eyes.
The devil breathes it into my lungs.
Dark replaces lonely.
And as the moon crescents and pierces the void.
I stumble quickly into a knowing.
Dropping fear like shrouds of revelations.
Collapsing into a nothingness bliss.
Swimming in solitude.

Second sight

Going towards the resolve, the 20/20 equaling higher.
A Fissure in my memory, wraps around the stillness.
I allow the world to hum and clatter around me.
All in its beautiful chaotic busyness.
Your X-rays burn through, avoiding the heart and preventing the cancer.
This realness drifts up towards heaven.
You cherish it all, pulling it close to smell the stench of love.
We are everything.
This blindness no longer fits me, like all of these clothes we shed.
Cast like tears in space.
Swimming in ignorance makes me long for bliss.
Thank god for you. Your bones and skin.
This place where your feet touch the ground is now sacred.
Where you breathe is where I take a picture.
You heart I steal as a souvenir.
Still like the frosted birds and the rocks we climbed upon.
The sand where we walk each year, burying time like a box of treasure.
Refracting in your presence, I see your glory in my second sight.
Your cat eyes shimmer, as I count your nine lives.
Trying to keep up.
As your eyes set sail for the horizon.
Anchoring us to the future.
Blinking away the memory of pain forever.

Sailing into your soul

Though the universe spins on your finger.
And the moon sets and falls in your eyes.
I can see the space left in-between us.
The road of lost good intentions and pride.
Now as the ghosts settle into their cupboards.
And the demons hide under our bed.
I will drip further into your madness.
Caught up in your sleepy cobwebs.
For my soul is no longer loyal.
It betrays my needs for yours.
It would throw me into your ocean,.
To further the movement of your oars.
As your little boat heads towards Neverland.
And my truth falls slowly to sleep.
Into your dreams I will tiptoe.
Blind to the wonders so deep.
I renounce my agnostic position.
I bow to every whim you command.
I will crucify my own indignation.
Through the flicker and twist of your hand.
Because all I want is your happiness.
To germinate from our love and our light.
That is why I cling like a barnacle.
To your boat and your soul so tight.

Dislocate

This life, that fear of loving.
Of believing what is all around here.
A junction in your bones, fragile and misdirected.
Second hand bodies that fall like sad embarrassed eyes.
Only when the lights are out.
These fears call out your name.
Swim into your dreams and pollutes this bloodstream.
Who touched that velvet treasure?
You take rib, and scream a pleasure.
I feel the truth like each vertebrae.
You dislocate.
You propagate a new feeling within me.
A love so tender and tasty, it reeks of construction.
Of chaos and completion.
Slid off the bone of life.
All the noise seems to fade away.
To a coffin quiet existence that allows me to hear the future.
While you cover this love in salt for protection.
And I hold your bones in mine.
Counting the path of your spine.
Silently whispering to the angels a thanks.
For returning what once was ours.

Sky bled a disappearing

A road to nowhere led me here.
Calling out into the trees.
Feeling my body vanishing.
All dust and disappointment.
What was buried underneath these feet?
The remains of a devil buried in haste.
From where I stand, all it reminds me of is home.
Alone and lost.
Confused by the fading colours and light.
Once these words are found, this life of someone else.
A skin and soul that hangs not in your heart.
Or flickering ever on your eyelids.
Will be but faded moments in time hung on dying trees.
These hands are scratching in the dark.
Once more looking for a way to disappear.
Removing this life, to that of a ghost.
Fading into the trees, to entertain the absent.
And no one looking.

Winter descends

Winter comes, like all the seasons.
Betrays the summer with its frozen reasons.
Killing off the leaves which cling so desperate to the branch.
And in my own mind’s yearly tree.
I hunker down quite hastily.
Sparing the blossoms of my head for another notch of time.
Surrounded and lost by love and laughter.
A festive phase much sought-after.
Frozen in the static of knowing where it all began.
So begin to fold the year away.
For memories linger but rarely stay.
Till’ soon it’s all forgotten like a love we had before.
And now the snow fills up my veins.
Frost and sadness cause fresh new pains.
And these bones are breaking to the cold creeping across the floor.
Yet while isn’t bleak and cold mid-winter.
There is a promise we can disinter.
Not guaranteed, there is a spring around God’s open door.
So enjoy the snow for it has never lasted.
A fading dust seasonally granted.
A beauty in the frozen landscape of winter’s yearly dance.
Make merry while you turn and tide.
Smile and bow to December’s bride.
Then greet tomorrow’s calendar with a better version than before.

Sweet dreams

Quiet, shhh; let the dreams take hold.
Block out the hurt, the noise and the cold.
Drift into the world of the never before seen.
A place where neither you nor I have been.
Those stories will unfold like the tail of a fairy.
Some of them tall, colourful and scary.
With places that can hide you when life gets too much.
Where you are brave and beautiful; and no longer touched.
Here is freedom wrapped in a space.
A wonderful illusion of time in a place.
So let the dreams now explode in your head.
All from the apparent safety of your bed.

Lost illusions

Fold the world into silence.
Mute the lava that runs through our core.
Bubbling into frantic action.
When anger shows.
So many lives, repeated like a failing student.
Brought back time and again, yet never the same.
Lessons drip from these eyelids.
Lies smother the eyes of such hopeful.
Innocence trapped in ice.
Drop these illusions like a weight of the moon.
Flung out into the cosmos, only to orbit your world.
God eclipses such distant.
Love replaces the fear of the known.
Nobody knows what is yet to come.

Harley Holland

Through extreme pressure and heat the coarse sugar melted down and was squeezed out through tiny holes; This molten sugar spread through the air, cooling, and catching on the sides of the steel drum. Clutching one another, this once hard crystal was now lighter, and like webbing it danced in the light growing thicker as the motion continued. Levi watched how it waited, almost invisible to his eyes, until he placed the long stick down into the machine. Like an adder it snapped at the stick and coiled its body around, darkening its glistening threads to a thick and puffy pink. Seconds later it was fat and ready to be consumed.

Levi raised the stick from the machine and admired its sixties beehive hairstyle shape. The kid next to him stared at it wide-eyed and waited for Levi to move out the way before taking hold of the stick from…

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Monolith

The coldness we took for indifference.
Or the rising arctic waters.
That strangled scream or misplaced regret.
In our dead vast emotional forest.
Snow covered and silent.
Epic, only in the place of such failure.
The cool touch and horror sprung elation.
In vibrating closer towards the unknown.
Touch me once and shiver.
Lick the emptiness that withers.
The monolith planted now inside our souls.
A place no-one goes.

(Though it’s dead I cannot see, the monolith in front of me)

What if it were all an illusion?
This repeated loop and monumental oak.
What knowledge hoots and chimes in its branches?
What reasoning is tucked away in its roots?
Though the city hums and breathes a static.
This monolith covers all in shadow.
Waiting to be lifted again.
By such fragile divine fingers from above.

Accepting Submissions

Raw Earth Ink

Hello there poetry writers! Want to be a part of an amazing anthology project and see your poetry published? Raw Earth Ink is opening submissions for next year’s themed poetry collection: The Poets Symphony.


Anthology Title: The Poets Symphony: Verses, Melodies, and Lyrical Poems

Description: a collection of poetry with a specific overall theme

Theme: music; each poem must be specifically tied to and include the theme of music. This may include song titles, band names (known or made up), musical terms such as ‘notes, keys, major, minor, arpeggios’ etc, genres (like country, heavy metal, classical, etc), poetry read as lyrics (notating verses, choruses, bridges, etc), musical instruments, and all points between. This should not be ambiguous but obvious to the reader.

Submission deadline: 31st December 2019

Submission piece length: 10-80 lines (including blank lines), with preference given to 16-40 line pieces; a line…

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