Poetry


Burn upwards

You, like a million pieces of an eclipse.
Falling on me like a Friday night.
You pepper my world with smiles.
Like stars peeking out of the black blanket of night.
You take me to such gravity.
You ask me to disengage.
A resistance that seems futile as I wash in your orbit.
Streaming down into the sapphire sway of your words.
Licking at my mind.
You, like a light in a field at night.
Leaving circles across my heart.
I count the halos. I watch for the dawn.
And you stay.


The Ballad of Nancy Stokes

Clouds rolled in, all over the small town.
The air alive with the smell of chip shop grease and cheap aftershave.
Saturday night, alive and loud.
But not Nancy.
At least not by the end. Down in the canal.
Left to be found by old Mrs Clarence, off to the shops on a Sunday morning.
Her small dog Terry, sniffing at the banks where poor Nancy rested.
Her head covered in an old Tesco carrier bag.
But that night before, she’d dressed up to the nines.
No Tesco tiara threatened her styled hair.
Scraped back with mouse and anticipation.
For the dancefloor awaited, and the eyes were wet.
Leary sockets soaked in her moves.
The jostles and gyrations of decade old motions learned to entice.
To ensnare.
Those oiled men, with receding hair.
Nancy left her friend, who’d found Jesus in the bottom of a vodka bottle.
And then in the stall of the toilets which stank of desperation and piss.
With sticky kebab hands soiling her jeans and soul.
Where Nancy went, nobody knows.
But they left her her clothes at least.
Soaking in the green waters of the canal.
Where Mrs Clarence found her.
Nancy Stokes. The 40 year old girl who loved to dance.
But never learned to swim.


Set the birds free

Where are you going to?
The voice asks, cold like decision.
To set the birds free.
And act, long forgotten.
It had covered over into memory.
By the tide of life.
What will happen?
I do not know, I replied.
Opening the veins, so god could peek inside.
They did that once before.
And we never forgot.
Yet this now seems strange to you?
Yes, because the birds usually nest in the garden.
Not in your heart.
This morning, I will set them free.
Then do it quickly, for I cannot watch.
Does the action bother you, the flapping of wings?
No, not that.
I cannot stand to see freedom, when I’m still locked inside.
The birds inside you I fear, have died.
Yes, but yours can still fly to heaven.
They will fly free at least.


Indemnity

‘Stay’, was a word that hung in the air.
Everything else was torn down, packed and registered.
Brought out of the vault to tally up.
Staying meant deserting me.
It was something they could not understand.
The pieces of a life quietened.
Dormant dreams that may never awake.
‘I need a love that’s stronger.’
Was all that could be mustered.
From a breathe that was losing air and strength.
‘Then never think of me’, they said.
Closing their eyes to a mounting disaster.
One that came in with the rain.
That day I left.
Impossible words ringing in ears that had heard such sweetness before.
Closing doors that would never again be opened.
The price we pay to save ourselves, when our worth is so low.
Pales compared to the devil, who sits in the shadows.
Tallying up our souls.


Lifting

Vanishing points appeared on the ceiling.
Little holes in my veins.
These little deer that course through the bloodstream.
Looking for the forest from the trees.
You force me to close my eyes to a world so hung in regret.
Precarious, like a spun sugared spider web.
Catching daydreams and ideas of escape.
That lifting.
Yet submerged in a dream where the walls crumble like chalk.
A hallucinatory step into monumental design.
Copying my name into the book of the dead.
That book that I read, where fate can be altered.
And we can change the path of time.
Which now forever ticks in my head, as I swallow each new morning.
Choking on the aftertaste of yesterday.
Lifting into a dream.


Sky burial

Make way for sad opportunity.
An internal march into time.
Who here has the energy, to battle any longer?
Only kings know when their time is done.
How to lay down forever, which position do we wear?
Tired and tested.
Joyful and sublime.
Making way for time’s sweet blanket.
We do not crawl to the end.
Or lie here waiting for the angels to carry us.
We hurry, back and forth between moments that mean nothing.
In the eyes of god, or the great beyond.


Lay me down

To sleep, in a dream that never wakes.
Flying on stars and tears tonight.
Lay me down.
Into the air or the earth.
For that is where my soul seeks silence.
Covered for a hundred years, a thousand tears.
Rusted and weak.
Lay me down, to sleep.
And tell me stories of the future.
A harkening of new truths.
When this time has died into a yesterday.
I will wake, and drink the world in again.


Grotesque

A loathsome sea of smiles in the afternoon.
Faces spasm to an uncontrollable joy.
You. You set the tiger in me free.
Lurching about the jungle, tangled in vines of love.
To shake these eyes, does not make your image fade.
To deaden my nerves would only make you feel cosmic.
As your lips find mine, and the stars explode.
Yet a war rages within.
A battlefield littered with bloody pieces of my heart and mind.
Engaged in conflict, fighting to be heard.
Yet the grotesque display goes on.
My hand, pulling for yours in the setting sun.
Love. Such a sickening sight.
Outrageously inhabited and warm.
When all around, the world is so lonely.
And so cold.


Climb to the air

Great opportunity led me here.
Sang the bird who sits on my windowsill.
My feathers are worn, and my wings are tired she said.
Watching the shadows cross the room.
How many oceans must she have sailed over I pondered.
What sights to have seen, soaring across bus stops.
Why do you come to me, I queried.
She whistled and cocked her head.
For that worm in your mind of course.
I closed my eyes and watched it slither then.
Oh, I answered; knowing what she meant.
That doubt has grown, and now writhes inside you.
I know. I replied.
So you’ve come to take it away? I asked curiously.
The shadows seemed to retreat now.
She hopped and chirped. That little new friend on my windowsill.
Yes, and to make you fly again?
She flew then into my skull, I could hear her in my head.
Flapping and flailing like a moth by a light.
My soul. My conscience. Trapped inside, for a moment.
How will you make me fly, I wondered.
She heard these thoughts of course.
And she answered, as she gobbled up that fat worm of doubt.
To remind you, you have always had your wings.
You just feared to take off.
Scared to try.


Head for the horizon

The cuttings of a life, strewn over floor.
Burning the house down.
Taken all the youth you could carry.
Watched and charted.
By faces with a lack of sincerity.
Living only as ghosts in a mind;
now tired of putting out the fires.
Of keeping wolves at bay.
Tinsel traces of the familiar.
Staining the past.
Yet born to run away.
Who remains, to entertain?
Just swallow your feathered fear.
And head for the horizon.


Dream

Though sleep masks the state.
A dreamless weight, covers me.
Clouds of possibilities blow in through the holes in my veins.
Delicious golden fires dance across each eyelid.
Who stole the sun each night, and welcomed a darkening miasma?
One that feels warm, like a hug in the snow.
Dreams comes.
I never sleep anymore, only dream.
Tales that betray the words I use at day, break of the old logic.
You call me tongue tied, twisted and turned like a rooted tree.
These dreams, take me.
Gliding over rooftops and memories I long ago thought I had drowned.
The danger is to dwell in these dug out magic grooves.
But nothing now pulls me back.
Nothing else saves me.
Dreams.
That’s where you will find my mind, as it switches off the light.


Years subside

Twilight and daybreak intertwine.
Casting shadows and dawn on these eyelids.
People come and talk to me of passion.
Then they linger, and talk to me of death.
I feel stuck inside a moral station.
Watching the trains as I in decide.
I feel a murmur of god, yet the call of the wild.
Battling against the push of gravity.
No longer feeling its pull.
How the years have folded like a napkin in my lap.
Dirty and used.
Yet I wonder. I wonder if I’m hungry still.


Beauty lost at the Heron house

The world collapsed in thirty seconds there.
A beauty aged in a moment while the rose petals died.
Who faded into the future, without the knowledge of the past?
We all did.
We came once to that spot, to watch the herons dance.
To see how they cast their wing’s against a backdrop of stars.
Through tears we watched them fly, soaring along our fingertips.
But we did not know, or care to wonder;
if they’d ever return.
And the days folded into years while the crows walked across our faces.
Milking our eyes into the blurred canvas before us.
Sight dancing into all but silhouettes.
What was destroyed there, at the Heron house?
Was it love? Was it power to hold in the wells of your hand?
Surely love never dies. Love always saves the day.
But beauty was lost forever there.
When it was valued more than gold, in hearts that feared to fly.


This decision is mine

Try not to breathe, don’t let them see the fear in your eyes.
Trap those voices in formaldehyde, while you hope to swim away.
Try not to cry, they have never even thought of escaping.
Trapped in a prison of smiles, and a thicket of shadows.
You are the deer, so close to the earth.
They are the rocks that they sometimes throw.
Hoping to hit, scrape and bled you.
Try not breathe, they will never hear through the distance you speed.
Crashing through the forest of fears.
Rising into the light.
Leaving tears in your path, only for the years you wasted.


I Miss my ocean

Sand. Dirty sand and soil.
Dust in my mouth and coating this skin.
A film of sweat covers me.
Sticky heat and restless.
I miss my sea, the ocean that bore me.
Tranquil and deep like the pools in my mind.
To drift and meander across its aqua stretches.
Calms the blood that torrents through me.
I miss my sea, my ocean.
At times stormy, but full of life.
Threatening to pull me down to the ocean floor.
Where I can be alone, and able to heal.
The arid heat and air of this desert itches my eyes.
Scratches at the very thought of going on another day.
The salty air calls me back.
A maelstrom of reasons directing my compass.
To ride over waves and rise with Atlantis.
Reaching a trident back up to god.
So I shall make my way, and crawl back into the sea.
One which always welcomes and cherishes me.
Washing everything clean, and cooling my soul.
I miss my ocean.
I miss my sea.


Pieces

Pieces float in the blood.
A crimson river, drawing up to space.
Flowers smashed into oblivion.
Only to remain. As particles of dust.
Floating inside you.
Dusting your eyelids and tainting your tongue.
Lilies and lilacs lifting into a dream.
Lifting in the pulse and throb of the heart.
Blooming in particles while they orbit your organ.
That heaves and struggles to understand.
The demise of such beauty.


The Star tonight

Deeply spun, sugar turn.
On this memory in my head.
Eating lotus flowers in the sun.
It never rains.
Now, the canvas is self-populating.
While the bees buzz like poets in despair.
Always on, like an evangelical station.
Trying. Try. Tried.
Succeed.
The greatest to ever awaken.
All sussed out and ready to shine.
Like the weekend every day, and Friday in his eyes.
He doesn’t even need to try.
They may forget him in a turn of the page.
The turn of the screw of humiliation.
But they cannot forget how he made them feel.
Leaving lotus leaves and petals on the floor.
Climbing back to heaven.


Epiphany in bloom

Dark. Night.
Always black when our eyes are open.
The glittering of stars on our eyelids, just moments already gone.
We forget the gates are never shut.
Just hard to see in the dark.
A charcoal covering that we forget is all but soil.
Covering us until we choke.
But we are far from death.
We have a need in the seed we clutch in our hands.
The soil, this space is here for us to grow.
To bury us deeper, like the root that draws up from beneath.
We choose the season, for heaven remains.
Never locked, but moving around the sun.
We look inside ourselves and see the seed we wish to grow.
The worms and the decay, you have the chance to sweep away;
and breathe new air above.
Begin at the beginning, and sow the seeds of hope.
Water them with happy tears, and sweat from being tested.
From a warmth not from the sun, but from a love invested.
In changing. In growing.
For all the world a knowing; that we create the garden.
We grow what we wish to see.
And they can smell like death or destiny.


View from the top

These sights wash these eyes like concrete.
Nothing moves me.
There is an absence of surprise now in my bones.
The world unfolds before me, much the same as it did yesterday.
Ashes never change.
It’s such a shame that everything stays the same.
And all these prayers go unanswered.
The wasted youth of trying to figure it all out.
Coming up empty.
Pots of fool’s gold and the things unneeded.
Yet bought at such a price.
The devil counts the souls as the sun goes down.
These conversations I have now, should be with myself.
Ten years ago.
Instead of to God.
Who always only ever laughed.


Love

Nobody knows what love means to you.
The bud of a rose in your life.
Or the darkness that creeps under the door.
You cannot convey, explain or say how it makes you feel.
As it fills your soul.
Or leaves you suddenly, like a bird taking flight.
Love sinks down into your DNA.
It washes over your desert like a great flood.
Trapping those grains of sand of you beneath its waves.
You will never put into words, how your love makes you feel.
Or when there are only ghostly embers of it, dying in your eyes.
Love, so relative.
And relatively unclear.


Come to disappear

More pain in her heart than a bomb over Japan.
She clicks her heels, but nothing happens.
More alone than home.
She darts into the traffic, proud and defiant like rhinos on the Serengeti.
This was her town, but from it now she runs.
Her tears falling like skyscrapers.
Down into the rain and the black streets of London;
that tries to coil around her feet.
The slinking snake of society.
She runs out, down and up into onto the lampposts until they change to trees.
And she feels the nature breathe back within.
The racing rats she leaves behind.
Throwing her phone and her tolerance into the trash as she departs.
This was never for her.
She comes now, out into the greens and browns that match her eyes.
Seeing the vista swim into view like a quiet paradise.
She comes here, to disappear.
She comes to survive.


London burning

Heavy scented air, the smell of ash and autumn.
Of change brimming like a supernova.
To watch only, yet still participate; leaves me shaking.
That blood on the sky, smeared into a ruby rose.
It stains my eyes and heart.
I watch as London burns with a fire of sadness.
Of a past ignited into nothingness.
But I’m not looking for someone to blame.
Those flames lick like a consequence that is buried deep in my hands.
Red and scorched like god’s eyelashes.
Choking out the hope and happiness.
It rages on, bringing ruins to our appetites.
Finally snuffed out by huge holy tears.


The fall will kill us both

Walking on this wire, I see the sea below us.
Cool and deep like the thoughts of mother earth.
Take my hand, there is nothing to catch us if we tumble.
Down into the shark filled ponds of loneliness.
Where our bones will turn to coral.
And you will dig down into the sand.
Foot follows foot as we walk.
Inching along the eggshell laden rope.
Banana skin memories drop like raining frogs.
I profit from my certainty, that these plagues are temporary.
Hold me if I slip, and I will catch you if you stumble.
Walking on this wire. We must be careful.
Because the fall will kill us both.


I Still do dream

Though the rising tide is threatening.
Seeping water into my bed.
I left myself to dream.
Hearing the lapping of tomorrow.
I pulled back my sleep and felt home.
Disappearing into treasures found deep within.
Waiting to join you.
Waiting for the oyster to show the wonder.
Replacing your cat’s eyes with pearls that reflect.
Angelic underwater adventure.
I lost my name there, holding out for you.
Holding your hand.
Brave with mother of pearl armour against the terrors of the deep.
I see your eyes, the pupils that dart like caged birds.
Wondering when I will wake.
Wondering why white turns to black.
And the treasures turn back to lead.
I left you there, down with the creatures who sang those tunes.
Left behind, like I was when I was young.
Everyone leaves you.
By the water’s edge.
On the precipice of a dream.
The only place I can ever find you.


Desert eyes

To walk the sands of time, to find the doorway to heaven.
Leaves me breathless.
You put your hands on this skin, and I succumb.
Unabated astral movements behind my eyes.
To know you from somewhere, is to feel you under my skin.
As my blood crashes down the sand dunes on the walls of my heart.
I left you, and found you there.
Waiting for me where the moon sinks and threatens never to return.
With honey wine still on your kiss, I will not function.
I slip into another consciousness.
Walking in a dream that quivers on god’s fingers.
Kiss me from drying, and wake me once more.
Let me disappear into your arms that comfort me like a blanket against desert cold.
And I will wash these tears away in the pools of your eyes.
That offer such sweet safety swims, to the desert floor.


Jaws

Those words that flowered down in your skin.
Tickling like cancer.
A love that swelled like a harbour masters fear;
at the sight of storm.
You put this in me. I drank it in.
Siphoned off the flames like a bird of paradise;
flying towards the sun.
Down into the roots of your stomach.
Innocence searching, now lost in moments just begun.
Borrowed, broken. Black and blue.
Rubbed off skin, down to the truth and bone.
Hold me in your jaws, feel the juicy love between.
Swallow me.
Tastes like goodness.
Tastes like emptiness.
For in the morning, I am gone.


Crumbling god

Swollen like a great regret.
In time, the struggle will fade to a new trauma.
You’re lost to him now.
Broken in too many places.
A mutual core of suffering that bruises one another.
Is up to you? (It never was).
Grave disappointment wiped across his eyes.
And still you decided.
To enter the church.
Coughing against the incense and nonsense.
And allow him to pray once more.
It’s not up you (It never was).
To answer their prayers.
To save him.


ANCIENT WHISPERS

Which perfect sorrow do you submerge us in?
A fragile prayer you left on my kiss.
Conquering sweet darkness.
Come, golden whispers tell me of the future.
Behold the glory, that tastes like immortal tears.


EVERYTHING (सर्वेषां स्वस्तिर्भवतु ।)

When the world wind weeps around you.
May the universe dry your eyes.
And happiness make you smile once more.
Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu.
I cannot keep you safe from the conflict.
Or the wars within you.
But I offer you peace, from that of which I’ve known.
Sarveśām Shāntir Bhavatu.
You are taken from the mountain,.
You come in pieces.
And I too. But together we are more than less.
Sarveśām Pūrnam Bhavatu.
And if you fall, I will not catch you.
I will watch as you rise again.
And applaud your strength, with an outstretched heart.
Sarveśām Maṇgalam Bhavatu.


Drive

You wanted to make me believe in love.
Taking my hand and leading me down the highway.
Past the car crashes of former entanglements.
The scars ever present on my mind.
The road stretches ahead, but I’m caught in the pull.
Of trying to glimpse at the dead.
You’re trying to make me believe again.
Showing me peace on the horizon.
But my palm is sweaty, and the fuel is empty.
I wonder if we’ll make it.
But I push my foot onto yours.
And I climb inside your soul.
The pedal pushes and we fly, deep into the night.
Down the road of good intentions.


Hunted

Are you haunted or hunted?
Crossing streams of inky despair.
Trying to slip away into the night.
A hunted animal.
Arrow marked and sought out.
It is not the jungle you wish to return to.
The scraping spires of the city is the one you hope to leave.
But they won’t let you be.
You’re a hunted animal.
Wiping tears on leaves as you run.
Putting out the forest fires.
But soon your heart tires.
Still hunted.


empty waves

In the night, when the velvet dark covered my skin.
We walked the beach, feeling each grain of time beneath.
To look into the sky, was but to cast over a hundred million jewels.
Twinkling there like possibilities.
The ocean, so vast and endless lulled me with its tune.
And the ocean spray tempted me at first.
Drawing me in with ideas of Atlantis.
But now, the harsh sun burns down.
Cooking the salt in these wounds.
Listening for you in empty shells.
And now, all that’s left; is to hold my breath before your tsunami.


Coming up for air

All hypothetical disenchantment
How many slaps on the wrist till I get it?
Shaking with my allergic reaction to loneliness.
Call the birds down that circle above.
Peck out the disappointment and the idealistic out of this eye.
Leave to die, locked in a room where the skeletons chatter.
Locked out of heaven with the world before us.
Suddenly I’m turned down to darkness.
The dull flame that burns, struggles in the void.
Come home.
Race back and pull the car from the lake.
Only the headlights glow now under water.
The only sounds you hear are lakey tears.
Silent, in the watery body that covers me.


You only want the past to die

Cross this skin like rough terrain.
A bad road in every direction.
Cut deep with the scars of a warrior.
Battles won but never chosen.
You’ve earned those stripes that glimmer red in the sun.
After you’ve loved and left someone.
And danced with the lions.
Now they judge you if you choose to let go.
Escape the nest and break the bars.
Of a prison you took too long to leave.
For now the waiting‘s done.
And you choose to run.
Into a future you accept, with all its tests, wilfully.
Because it’s now your own.


Vermilion

In the struggles of my bones.
Sweet blood running free. Down to the edge of the world.
You didn’t ask me what I thought.
Which is why you left me there.
Predisposed to hope. As the world tipped over.
The oceans emptied into my soul, and I began to float.
Pulled by the moon in a turmoil tide.
The blood lapping at my mind.
Under such tearaway skin, your rivers run the same.
A scarlet surge of pain.
Inside, both still wet.
I want to carve you out of stone.
But your bones won’t allow it.
It keeps me touching your sweet face.
Feeling your heartbeat vibrate the sails that take you further away.
Off into that isolated horizon.
But upon these salty sands, carried by the red river.
I find your message, bottled up and ready to explode.
This doesn’t feel like an apology.
Only a declaration of freedom.
Signed in vermilion.


Disperse

It came with no warning at all.
As I stood in place, hoping it would evaporate.
But down to the marrow it went, like a hungry ghost.
Feeding on my sadness.
As i watched you disappear.
Wishful thinking, I was already dead.
For nobody finds hope in tears that run red.


Stain my sky

You stain my sky with your understanding.
Tipping me towards earth.
You allow me to walk in your grasses barefoot.
Smelling the flowers of change.
Dizzied by the fragrance your smile offers.
Forgetting there’s broken glass hidden in the rushes.
And that i’m allergic to mother earth.


Applications become the same

This Monday morning evaporates the weekend.
A horrendous hue of change.
Your absence now in my bed, as our bodies break.
Twisting the world apart.
The world, now on show for bright eyes and coffee headaches.
Stretching out the happiness as the day rolls into grey.
For without you next to me, I find it harder to breathe.
The eye blinks of necessity struggle under the weight of it all.
I do not mean to be a burden, of self-serving theatrics.
This production creeps out of the stage you set.
For each time you go, and the curtain closes.
I’m left picking popcorn and ticket stubs off my dirty heart.
Rushing once more for the weekend, to be first in line.
This heart a needle, in your hay.


Opium for the soul

I feel no pain. I feel nothing.
An uncomfortable numbness itching in my bones.
How your lips bring about such devastation.
Apathaites my heart and bubbles my blood.
Oh the sweet bends that rush, twisting my insides out.
You are the opium for my soul.
The novocaine for my conscience.
Which constantly waivers into unstable territory.
You keep my ghost steady as I walk this earth.
Getting high from the lows you put me under.
Feeling flight as you watch me crawl.
Love, such a compromise anyway.


Divination

What can you promise that will never change?
A predicable prophecy you find at the bottom of your coffee cup.
But this is larger than you or I.
A life of moments hung together like old Christmas tree lights.
This is me saying I love you.


particular illusions

To sleep under the stars, and to count the heavens.
A result of you burning my bed.
I lie on the cool grass and watch out for comets.
Racing from Olympus to Paradise.
I pulled off the ropes and entanglements.
Escaping with my life, but not my soul.
And now the clouds that cover the milky way.
Blotting out the moon.
Is just the smoke, from the ashes of our home.
Yet suddenly you appear, covered in moon dust.
With starlight diamonds in your eyes.
And you take my hand, and tip the sky over.
Shaking out the stars.
Promising me treasure to be found in our ruins.


Extirpate

Shivering into this new world.
Of a day broken over me like the sunshine egg yolk of realisation.
That an absence now fills this room.
A void as cold as winter, that settles into these bones.
Reborn into a version of such violence and void that my head aches into grey.
And my heart, slips away; into adjustment.
You folded us into memory.
A slight of hand that speaks with a voice of your reasoning.
Echoing now in my ears.
And my tears will turn to chalk.
While the plants die all around me.
A fate that flutters on my lips, like butterflies trapped in conservatories.
Glancing at the world around, yet smashing again and again against the glass.
Yet still you toil and dig at the weeds of my entanglement.
That curled around you like a summer’s blanket.
And you sheer, and slice.
Digging hard at my roots. Killing me a thousand times over.
Praying I rot away and turn into time.


stones & shells

To be the shell in your pocket, or the pebble in your shoe.
Allows the skin that covers you, to take me in.
Closer to your flesh that breathes.
And sees everything.
Closer to god.


Angular resolution

Lost to everyone but myself.
As I stream through the cosmos.
Touching the stars with my fingertips.
Pausing by the swirling galaxies that shine like glistening pools of diamonds.
Would I find you here?
Carved out of something seen by no-one but God.
You speak words of another time and place.
Resting softly in my head like feathers from the future.
Plucked from a comets tail which snakes back to earth.
Threatening the order.
Teasing from above like angels dropping thunderbolts.
All around but absent.
Could I lose you there?
In that place only you and I know of.
Cut in half if you begin to forget.
Faded in the half light of a dawn you once promised.
Erasing the earth like a solar eclipse.
Yet I feel you, on this night.
In this skin that’s cratered like the lunar surface.
And I touch the place you once kissed me.
Believing once more in ghosts.


humbled by such disgust

Undeniably threatened by such conditioning.
Undressing to the eyes of the easily criticised.
Such abuse of positions leaves me shaking.
Before, one after.
Waiting once more for the clock to heave and settle upon me.
Travelled to time zones beyond understanding.
Confused and abused notions of respect.
Never apologising to myself.
Painting each vertebrae yellow.
Only shadows behind those once wild eyes.
Corner darting to search for you.
Counting the orgasms and commitment that never came.
Amazing now with hollow bones and an absent mind.
What I gave away, you store in a room.
In a box.
Out of sight.
So never to tempt me to flee.
Left alone.
In a bath.
Bathing in your bleach.


Salt in the soul

What do you do, when cannot breathe inside?
As the voices pull and call you out to sea.
Caught on the tide of time.
The sun sweats out the salty dreams.
Moments of disconnection.
Burning and fizzing in the heat and spray.
On a day, far from over.
And though you try to ride the tide of change.
You only get battered, smashed against the rocky shores of truth.


PROBLEMATIC PROVIDENCE

The least I can do is, is to rip this skin off.
To strip the bones of the sinful wrapping.
Do you know, it is your body I wish to devour?
Sampling chunks of Christ to purify.
Oh my god, do you know what waters run underneath.
Holy and polluted, waiting to be washed by biblical floods of love.
Yet to detest all of it seems wasteful, for thou art in your image.
An image which feels like a memory.
Do you feast on me? Do you drink my blood?
How sacred is the house that sits on such rocky promises.
A church in the corner of the room where the shadows dwell.
Thy kingdom to come home to, when the world drives me out.
With each act of contrition, with each prayer I mumble.
Wanting, hoping, begging to be like you.
I sink and think, swimming in your brilliance, drowning in your light.
Wondering perhaps, if I am already my own messiah


CALCINATION OF A DYING ANGEL

A flicker in a flame that sets the beat.
Ticking over the tock of a time unravelling.
This flame that scotches the hands that hither.
Trying to love and caress, only to be burnt.
Those feeding fingers that crisp.
The smell of burnt skin and hurt.
Yet a call from within threatens mountainous shifts.
That this life of fire will burn to ash.
And a darkness will follow.
One where we can move without ever being noticed.
For in the dark, we can truly see ourselves.
And I will once again think of running away.


THE ISLAND

Sky west and crooked, that’s where you’ll find me.
Wallowing in the shallows of a spirit so deep.
No man is an island, yet here the land mirrors my form.
Hewn coarsely out of limestone and chalk, strong and cratered like the moon.
You may cast you anchor down to my sandy soil.
Hoping to raise your flag and conquer me.
As you explore what you think you now possess.
But a volcanic change of thought will turn these tables.
Collapsing all that lies in reach.
And we shall sink, beneath the waves of our doomed Atlantis.
To be spoken of in awe by those who follow our demise.


LATCH

The door is swinging, wide and heavy on its fastening.
Through it comes the night, the eerie mist of maddening intent.
The latch is forever broken, letting in the misery.
Sounds of hell and voices of those I love.
Or have loved, for the door does not discriminate.
It sends in souls and sounds that would rock such a fragile house on sticks.
Memories to twist and turn the rooms upside down.
And rain to lash at these windows inside.
Like tears on a mirror, slipping down the pane.
The latch unhinged, dusty and broken like an unwound mind.
Rusty and obsolete in its current state.
Squeaking it’s lament and apathy.
A quick fix, a drop of oil.
To keep the ghosts and the monster at bay.
Out in the other land of nightmares.
While I try to re-arrange this room of dreams.


EXUBERANT VOICES

The crystal bell in this head rings out.
Shattering the dark, sending the bats into flight.
Cavernous places these thoughts do dwell.
But the night light beckons and calls.
Whispers catch on the summer breeze.
Emerging back into a world unfamiliar.
They trickle down the spine, in thoughts so sublime that they leave me restless.
Waiting for the tide to turn.
How they put up streamers and plait the hair of my age into golden weaves.
Singing me to sleep with their lullabies.
These exuberant voices compete to lift this heavy spirit.
Bringing the heavens and the sky down to me.
But back in that cave, behind the rocks and darkness.
Lies a thought, a niggling worm at the core of me.
Now asking, these voices I hear; why are there more than one?


YOU ARE MY RELIGION

I feel your skin, soft and silky like bible pages.
Precious-sacred, and containing such wonder.
The church of your heart tolls the bell in my soul.
Calling me to prayer.
Forcing me to bow.
Anointed, and blessed while you crucify for a kiss.
Keeping my faith locked like a secret only I will know.
You are my religion.
Knowing I’ll always be devout.
Hallelujah.


INFRACTURED

This is where the call came in.
21.09 as the tables turned.
Nothing learned, and feeling fine.
It got a little cold out there baby.
Running the whole world on your lie.
Catching time, trying not to try.
But your control used to cover you.
Now it rolls you over, and you try to let go.
But no.
She wants a little more than you offered.
Coming now to pay the piper.
That pound of flesh you carrot dangled.
Creating such frenzied envy.
And now, here comes that awful feeling.
Smudged with eyeliner and regret.
And as your mouth rolls fables like marbles.
The truth with whisky garbles, like a politician camera posing.
I know you see her. I know you wonder how it will end.
In the end, you lose.


BURST

You paint the world now as you see it.
With shades of red and orange.
A tapestry of colour you lay now at my door.
And hope to wash away, this daily grey; that for years I did implore.
And you threaten and you contest;
that now all I’ll ever see is coloured rain and summer shades.
Whether my eyes are opened, or closed.


SWALLOWING TOMORROW

Who reads a smiling poet’s words?
Ones that bridge the chasm from heartache to heaven.
Do you care to wash in the tears of the lonely?
Or splash yourself in city rain, dirty from the walk of life.
These moments we catch and keep.
Lock inside where the heartbeats remind us we’re still existing.
Coveting and creating.
Moving and replacing like tectonic continents of sorrow and elation.
Self-serving commotion in a noisy crowd of others.
Screaming to be heard and praying to be forgotten.
Who wants to read a dead girls dreams?
Slashed away like the wrist on a foggy November.
Or trapped in amber to survive generations.
We are the pendulum kids, swinging from north to south.
Mouth and eyes open to catch it all and swallow as we fly by.
With tears in our eyes; not knowing if their happy ones or sad.


HEROIN(E)

Fire crack cackle in hushed shadows.
Little fingers about to be cut off.
What you say makes me shudder.
A creeping shiver left at the side of the bed.
A mind now full of kitty litter.
With the life looking and an ache to scratch.
Weakness, tossed out like surprise.
Sweetness that came in like a hammer to the glass heart.
Lick me up like spite, with a malice reduced down into silver spoons.
As I fall away from you.
And watch you choke on words and not loneliness.
It moves now in to post-blue passive aggressive.
Feeling the testosterone in our bones.
Angry, because you wanted it this way.
Embattled and emblazed with the world shouting us as well.
Waiting for the silence to once again smother our fires.


PALPATE

To make you consider, that what I see is real.
To crack this skin like a mirrored pain.
A reflective love dancing on the wings of happiness.
Clouded and scorched.
Licked and honoured.
A crumpling vision of everything.
Tapping now at this skull.
Did I force you to reconsider.
What treasures remain.
Whether it’s me, happy inside you.
Or just a vast ocean of pain.


ENGULFED

Coming up for air, and stealing the sun.
How long can I live underwater?
Pushed to drowning by the weight of your departure.
Collapsing like time.
Peeling the skin off my life like the rind off an orange.
Covered in mess. Bloody and sticky.
Yet nothing washes away.
Nothing drifts, except the pain into tomorrow.
And once again I’m fighting for air.
Alone, battling the waves.


A VULGAR DISPLAY OF GRATITUDE

From the light, to return to the luminous.
Stuck temporarily in the prison of earth.
But these bars are golden.
These chains are studded with diamonds.
Like frozen tears of god.
We flutter on the eternal, like the birds rustling in the trees.
Leaving feathers of time behind and staining history, reminding the past that we flew.
Soaring, tumbling and splintering the great beyond.
So do not frown at the darkening sky.
But be thankful of the threatening rains to wash all this away.
For we have spent so long in the desert, picking over each grain of sand.
Holding them up to the sun to see the universe within.
The sunlight with signify, capture and purify our days spent.
Marking each on with a rebirth and departure.
As we sail in-between, on a sturdy ships of dreams.
Reaching the never ending shores of the incomplete.
Falling off the ends of the earth.
This earth, this state, this grounded place.
Is here to test the spirit and liberate the soul.
So give thanks to the world that is dark and foreboding.
One which seeps in like oil to the heart.
And bow, and pray and thank the creator.
For giving us the chance to spread these heavy wings.
To soar up and switch on the light.
And bathe us once more in golden fires of the absolute.

 


UNDER OCTOBER SKY

Beneath the quietening of this heart.
Cracks a thunder, like an electric storm.
Stinging my teeth while the haemoglobin clouds roll on.
You came searching for me.
Under that October sky that fell down like sympathy.
White sheets stained red and corridors that endlessly led,
to nowhere.
I cannot see all of you in the slit through my eyelids.
While my bloodstream is awash with dizzying correctives.
Which condition should I wear?
Is this but a dream spun from those salty lips?
That kissed me last night as I climbed the walls once more.
Doubtful, for you were gone.
A room devoid of your expansive endurance.
Which explains the circumstance.
The sad tale of happenstance.
Which led me down here.


SAVAGE RECONSTRUCTION OF SELF

Through heavy storms this heart doth beat.
Battle born and weary.
Feathers frayed liked angelic irony.
Patched and nearly severed.
Where do you go to be reborn?
While wolves lick between your teeth.
And though pregnant hopes swell and ebb.
Through cobweb sticky emotions, and distance in your eyes.
The cries of sincere doubt corrode quickly in your salty waves.
Smashed into pieces upon your unwelcoming rocky shore.
Yet something crawls out of the ocean.
Something that slayed the terrors of the deep.
To reach up and scale that towering mountain.
That you placed there to warn those out to sea.
Of how close to god you now sit and suffer.
How away from us you wish to be.


THORNED LOVE SPINED

I found myself reaching for you.
Closing the gap between half worlds away.
Pulling space into my back pocket.
Keeping god under my gums.
You pull away and shake off the stardust.
Tugging the thread of the religion we wove.
Spinning out like the solar system.
Cutting me like thorns.
Yet beauty always seems to dance in the distance.
Unobtainable like the rings around Saturn.
Like the rose, once plucked will swiftly start to die.
So I will not house you in glass jars.
Or swirl you inside me like marbles in time.
You can bloom and fade on your own as I watch from a distance.
Seeing Saturn return into space.
Remembering how sweetly you smelt that summer’s day of mine.


SWALLOWING SPACE

Black moon wrapped for the one I love.
That one who pulled me back.
You asked me once to shut my eyes.
While you unhooked the stars.
And now I see, in the shaking shadows.
You only planned to swallow the sun.


WIPE AWAY THE GREY

To wake, is to dream.
To find myself lost once more in your eyes.
A product of circumstance.
The small twists of fate.
Hold me inside, hand gripped to my heart.
Keep me in your pocket.
Safe and close.
As you wipe away the grey.


FEELING MATURITY’S PULL

Feel the stranger in the skin.
Bones that stumble into another day.
I wish that I could go back.
And remember the person I hoped to be.
Wide eyed with a smile as big as heaven.
Now it pulls down like guilt.
Watching the gravity collapse every time the sun rises.
And feel these dreams demise.
On a forgotten land of possible.
I see through the eyes now of someone I never wanted to be.
An alien soul who moves from right to left.
Unpicking the threads of good and coughing up a sadness.
I wish I could go back.
Back to being the little boy.
I’d tell him not to grow up if he could help it.
Run back to Neverland.


AN INNER CHOIR SINGS

You do not find it in the brush strokes of the saintly.
The willowing wisps of utterances in cold hallowed rooms.
Light a candle, and see me.
Peel back the bits of Christ to find me.
Swimming in the shallow cells of you.
Awash, in the DNA of God.


YOUR PILGRIMAGE

I love your silver dressed dreams.
Darlings, that call us all to look.
To peek and prod in an unforgiving time.
Hook your hate around my hand, thrown in the bag to drown.
Kittens, pebbles in your pocket.
You call this your pilgrimage.
A racing stumble through our great beyond.
But that was where I found you.
Heaped and tired, all covered in stars.
Can you walk the line?
Can you take some time to change?
Wrap this love around you heart, swallow and then re-arrange.
Your pilgrimage.
You deep mistake.
Your breaking through, my privilege.


FLOATING WORLDS

To lift into a dream.
A sky that fits into your hand.
Let loose like the heartstrings of a melody,
that taps at your soul.
You breathe the air I need to survive.
Blown backwards like a northwest gale.
Billowing underneath these feathered sails.
Crystalize the weight that hangs heavy like the edge of space.
Skimming the clouds of your floating world.
To dive into the air of thought that passes between us.
That leaves me shaking like a night terror.
A heartbeat like a sleep kick.
These strings are made with each joint decision.
Tasselled and tied the rigging of a wandering star.
Leaving my hands covered in stardust.
And lungs of love full to burst.
I go silently into that pastel sky.
Watching the moments as I go.
Lifting off deep into your soaring kingdom.


SARCASTIC SIMON SAYS

Which parade set table are we dressed for?
Candy stars and sweet honey lemonade?
Goldfish trapped in tiny jars.
Blind me now, let’s play charades.
Cheating on the life we try to lead.
Hide and seek with death.
But such a sad face he always wears.
Covering us in black and liquorice lace.
Come skim the jellybean stones with me.
Jump the sugared rocks over the pool of irresponsibility.
We can talk to god at the end.
We can ask him how it went, and whether our game was fun.
Come on, come on!


MOTHER

Out of the dark, like a Pisces rising.
The ship of salvation on this sanctified horizon.
Oh mother, why do those tears of glass never shatter?
Who wipes away those beads when the world turns over?
We hum the hymns in a frantic manner.
Coughing up rosaries like pearls from the sea.
Yet a pain in your heart vibrates underfoot.
Quaking the earth and displacing my faith.
Not in you, oh mother, the salvation in my sadness.
But in a world I find as sticky as tar, and dark as oil.
Resistant to your holy water.
Tis such vanity I make your image so beautiful.
Mirroring the love I have for my mother of body.
The one I share cells with.
Divine DNA.
So I roll my eyes back, and taste the pain away.
Losing your son.
As impotent as God to intervene in fate.
And I pray, and kiss your blessed feet.
Giving up the holy image in my mind.
Loving you for the first time,
as someone who I always knew.


UNDER MY SKIN

To hesitate in your eyes, is to drown a thousand ways.
Swimming against a tide that roars with the sound of heaven.
You conquer me, setting fire to the flames that already burnt to ash.
Falling through your fingers like the soot from Pompeii.
A staining spreads, quickly and delicately feeding my veins.
Your sweetened touch, making my world quiver.
Dancing to a delicious possibilities.
To know you, like I must, breaks all the rules of conformity.
Giving over to the rapturous sound of love.
A melody which your soul murmurs.
And which sinks beneath these bones.
To disrupt the beating of my heart.


QUIET REFRAIN

The rain of time.
A slow drip into my skull.
Quietens the restless bird of my mind.
Flattening it’s wings.
Ceasing it to fly.


 BOY

Unpicking the threads that burrowed deep into the bones.
A tangled web of untruths.
Wearing boots, to kick the butt of the world.
And raise that two inches higher.
Closer to the sun, to let it catch in your eyes.
Able to cry, only when you’re alone.
Stripped and naked, yet not self-deprecating.
Watching the birds from the nest.
With a numbed skin that creases at the corners.
Wallowing in the shallow waters of a dirty pool.
I cannot keep you safe from the wolves.
I can only save myself from tomorrow.

GIRL

A swing between masculine and feminine.
Welcomed into the circus tent once more.
A concrete garden where the clowns come to cry.
My oh my, what a pretty thing. What a pretty scene.
Wearing boots to mark your tread on the earth.
And to raise higher on that pedestal.
Forever wobbling in the winds of change.
Yet how you soar up to the sun.
Licking feathers to keep them packed, aerodynamic.
Keeping the sheen and the shine to show the gold.
And never grow old, for the elephant graveyard never holds your bones.
You only fade into pages of yesterday.


UNEARTHED

At the end, was where she found her soul.
Not spun from lips in a chorus and churchal ring.
Or in the dregs of a splinter thin wine glass.
She did not see it when she closed her eyes at night.
Only monsters and terrors of tomorrow flared there.
Her heart may have heaved, swooned and believed it was there;
under sticky sheets.
In the humid room where the windows steamed.
Octopus arms reaching deep into her being.
No.
She found her soul, at the bottom of the bathtub.
Which is why she rested there.
For an hour, a day, and eternity.
Smiling at finally finding it.


WEAPON OF CHOICE

It’s so hard, just to peel back the truth.
Like folding back the sky.
Propping up heaven while we renovate.
Dusting under the throne, sweeping under the rug.
How much is caught in your eye?
As the verbal rocks are thrown?
Hammering now in your head.
Leaving idealism to another time, another life.
Dropped in the ocean to be covered in coral.
We slaughter the fledgling feelings, new to hope.
Eager to walk in the sunlight holding hands.
We never understand, how to break the cycle.
Going round and round. Like a falling plane.
Spiralling, tumbling, freewheeling to the ground.
You pin the medal of victory to your chest.
Pricking the skin, letting the blood flow.
Straightening your soul, patting your ego on the back.
Mumbling incoherently the art of war.
Driving your tank over the art of love.


INDIGNITIES OF WAR

Now the music sounds better without you.
The sound of rust and avoidance.
A pin of change, held in thy hand.
Explosions in their eyes, are merely the dying stars of hope.
As they drop bombs on everything you see.
All that once glittered was sold.
Packaged and peeled like your skin on the cross.
And we taste the regret each day.
And we forget each pain and stay,
locked in world of static.
Explaining each miracle away.
It once felt like home.
Until the sands rose and the waters melted.
And we looked once more in the back of our skulls.
Picking away at you on the roof of our mouths.
The tourniquets we place over the lands tear.
The crumble and crack of reason.
The pain is the only thing we’re happy to hear.
As we martyr those who walk your walk.
And silence those, with that familiar talk.
Of love.


HELIOCENTRIC DETOURS

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
I think I missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
As they slide once more into focus.
Chewing on your past like a shark in a bathtub.
Filled to the brim with sorrow.
Eyes, that are empty.
Call for tomorrow.
As your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge that shrieks past like a shooting star.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
But be sure to rinse you mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.


FLOWERS BEHIND GLASS

The door to this heart hangs heavy.
Swinging on the ideals of the irrational.
Breathe on this skin, and watch the gold paper flutter.
Lick it down to keep it in place.
They once planted flowers above my head.
Placed little stones over me to mark this grave.
The place where lonely hearts came to die.
Decaying like the rotting buds of spring.
Within, they did not care to ignite.
You touch me but once, and electrify this process.
Kissing me with an electron blue.
Now, as the rains cover my earth, deep within I begin to bloom.
You never left, you stayed to watch the blossoming.
Feeling the florets in you rose petal hands.
And now they watch, behind glass and a stretch of time.
Only snapshots of a love divine.
Walled away and tempered.
While you pick these roses, without thorns.
And garden all through the night.


ALCHEMY AND DELIBERATION

Twist the thorn in the blackness.
A congealed oil in my soul.
Split the vein and breathe.
Om Sarveshaam svastir-bhavatu.
We’ve stripped the skin, dived right in to a place we’ve known before.
A return, or re-invention.
Time to manage the maligned.
Re-arrange the altar in my heart, kneel and give thanks.
Here. Now. So high.
Flying above houses and heaven.
Making my way across the sky.
With green tea and terror on my lips.
But unafraid, of the wonder beyond.
The familiar in my bones.
And the story yet told.


BORDER-LINING-ABSENT

She waited in the rain.
Caught between do or die.
Flee or fight.
Choking on decisions, each one bitter.
She watched as the world collapsed.
As the people fragmented into another time.
Small pockets of clouds like hurried breath in the cold.
Her feet were once rooted to the ground.
But he chopped that tree of life down.
Digging out all that treasure she had buried when she was young.
And now she alone and penniless.
Older and empty.
Not for what was stolen, but for what he had left behind.


EXTIRPATE>AMALGAMATE

Stand in the middle of the wreckage.
The galaxy of regrets wash at your feet.
All open fields.
The tidal pull within you, feasting on black waves of idealism.
You bring your dreams to god.
Such food for a hungry beast.
The wind washes away, the dirt and decay of mountainous failure.
And who really cared. Who really cried over forgotten chances?
The road just diverged.
You detoured to this place where you can feel the grass under your feet.
Grounded.
Predisposed to deletion, to erase what was the stain and the dirt.
Such grand destructions.
But now it lies, bleached into your eyes.
Hung up in the gallery of your life.
And we now admire, devouring the stories of your past.
All parts that assimilated to the messiah of the meadow.
Here. Now. Living, breathing.
Being.


DO, WHAT YOU DON’T

Do you need some assistance?
While the moon falls, and the waves turn black.
That notorious liar.
All joy that expired, when they decided to stay.
Robbing and rubbing. Making little nests for magpie memories.
It found you, such violent forgiveness.
Crashing into your cells while your conscience slept.
And do you wake to pray?
Do you mean to say, you would give it all back?
Sin crouches at the door.
God hovers on your lips.
And still, you remain the same.


REACHING ROOTS

How deep do these roots need to burrow?
While the wind of the world shakes and batters.
Down deep, past dinosaur bones and bits of myself.
Long forgotten memories and names no longer remembered.
Roots of strength, yet they strangle the small and struggling.
Little sprouts of new dreams which begin deep in the dark of my soul.
Waiting, for just the tiniest flash of light.
Yet the roots need to be strong.
For it’s much further to go on.
And this tree is desperate to reach up to heaven.


PURIFY

Turned to gold as it hits the floor.
Letting go of such insecurity.
Hang me like a millionaire.
Cut me and stare, and watch the scene unfold.
For the tongues to click and clatter.
All words with no meaning.
All heart with no feeling.
These social diseases force me to disconnect.
A daily monster to crucify, while we hide our own guilt.
And the sin that hovers like a monster at the door.
Purify the space.
Sanitise the soul.
Block the ears of those too involved to care.
Hand out the matchsticks from the tree you hung me from.
Use them to keep your eyes open.
To let the darkness in.
In our strange world of opposites.
And let it go.
Just, let it go.


I SUDDENLY FEEL IT

Under the floorboards it dwelt.
Dipped in diamonds.
Hard as nails.
A love that painted the corner of my planet.
Washed over me like black rain.
You creep into my bones like golden dust.
Strengthening and sturdying my soul.
This past is left in the darken room.
You turned off the light for memories that kept me awake.
No more grave digging in the sunlight.
Stopping instead, to smell the flowers.
Picking eternal daisies in the dirt of time.
Forcing me to be x-static, extreme like violence.
You are the colour in my skin.
Awash with happiness deep within.


FALLING INSIDE NOTHING

He let the ghost in, and paid for the pleasure.
Allowed it to walk around his soul.
Dispensed with the hauntings of old.
And reclaimed such fresh bones to tingle.
An empty shell, nothing more.
The vast lake of indifference that stretches into tomorrow.
Freezing such sorrow.
And leaving sad footprints in the snow.
What deeds did the phantom choose?
With a body now willing, and an absent soul.
It waited.
It waited, and not in vain.
To find the will to love again.
For the empty souls are not always alone.
In the face of another, featureless and insane, haunted even the spirit.
Chained it down to cognitive reframe.
And banished the shadows from the eyes.
Tearing the absent heart, while the spectre burnt.
And melted into eternity.
Together. Alone. Deceased.


TANGERINE

With your tangerine smile, which flavours the city.
Casting a sunburst across my eyes.
I’ll find you, where I know you’ll be.
Down by the water’s edge.
Inside my soul.
Scooping up petals and bits of memories that others left behind.
You tape them to your chest.
Quilt them to the inside of your skin.
That citrus deposition.
Sharpe and bright, welcoming me in.
You peel away the days, opening up to happiness.
Finding me at home, with your tangerine touch.
And smelling like summer.


RETREAT

Bullets peel away my flesh, as the city sleeps.
It crumbles into the night.
Slinking into tomorrow like a panther into the jungle.
You don’t run my town.
You won’t own my crown.
The drums of war sound and the concrete cracks.
Awakening once more to a new day of havoc.
Racing rats and such noise in my skull.
Retreat. Re-tweet.
The fingers tap itching by the triggers.
Awash with opinions, thrown like rocks.
Flowers grow where old giants fell.
Mighty names and egos that towered into the sky.
You throw such money around.
Yet you walk sideways.
Poised with perfection, like a clown who has mastered tears.
Retreat. I retreat into the place where I was born.
To a land where the trees breathe my name.
I hear the bullets fly in the distance, yet they cannot reach me here.
They do not know this place.
Or that it’s my finger on the button.


AN EULOGY OF SLEEP

Tokyo flutters on the eyelids.
Silencing the sleep.
Cairo creeping on the skin.
A hemisphere of time separates.
A body in repose. The mind scattered.
All is quiet. All is calm.
I move the things that are put in place to protect me.
Tiny rivets that keep me clamped.
Tarping wrapped around my soul.
Flutters off into the horizon.
Peeling away this world to dig beneath the ground.
Waking the dead to tell them, not to sleep, but to dream.
Heady fluorescents shine through those summer eyes.
A system of survival begins to whirl to life.
Ticking and tocking to a rhythm we’ve all known.
All felt deep in the roots of our bones.
Now with talk of eternal positions.
Laying down to rest.
4am.
Skirting the edge of dreams.
Marking the skies red.


INTERRUPTED SLEEP

You sleep the soundest with gritted teeth.
Chocking on the chalk.
Swallowing the lies.
Silently sweating out the guilt that pools,
soaking your soul.
Such violent awakenings.
The disgust of the nights awake to your dirty days.
Paralysing the angel that hovers in your bones.
Do you talk the loudest to god?
Who really listens?
Where does the devil take you to punch at your dreams.
Shattering the road of good intentions.


WHAT I HAVE IS GOLD

Block karma as it seeps into the crevices.
High on me like supersonic agitation.
Suspended apprehension.
Giving time to wallow in the presence of now.
Born out of the very fabric you wish to tear.
July night, watching independence explode like a fountain of stars.
Too high-drunk to matter.
Collecting gold and the thoughts that matter.
Everything trapped in glass. Treading sorrys and eyes which follow.
Bleeding into tomorrow.
Dispelling cowardice and collecting courage.
You are sorry. (So at ease)
I still love you.



PRETTY PROTECTIONS

When you summoned your tempest.
And the gods all heard.
Sending shockwaves and blame that came down in floods.
Landing on me like freshly fallen snow.
A target of your manic fuelled rage.
No more.
No longer the substitute for the all the blank spaces.
The vertebras you want to crack and walk upon.
All this egg shell laden land, dulled of the green you promised.
Conjures more towel throwing.
Yet still I remember the days where you fixed my crown.
And only coughed into the night of life.
Yet these frequent occasions  gather like the monsoon rains.
Always on time and unpredictable.
Soaking me through with tears of regret.


HURRY THIS NIRVANA

How long had you been sleeping?
In a pool of your own happiness.
Licking the chops of the beasts that sleep.
How anointed of you, to kiss my sandalwood feet.
To stare into the eyes of god and see nothing.
To see only stars, being born again and again.
Your skin cracks and bleeds rose water.
These eyes that tighten with every word from your lips.
Coughing up daises, pulling the leash you keep the world on.
They’d love to hate you.
Sneaking just a peak at your tolerance.
Dousing everything in oil and honour.
Lighting little fires in the dark pools of their souls.
Divine is defined by your existence.
Regret is stained by your ghost.


 

REVELATION

Show the world who you are.
Dripped in honey and absinthe.
Hovering by a flame.
All parts, never the same.
As they try to push you under a reason.
A statement, a label, or part treason.
When you smash the brackets of age that constricts.
And you pull down the gods for a closer look.
They’ll see you reflect in their eyes.
Please, memorise their apology.
And wave as they pass you by.


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