Stuck

I dreamt about the future.
Unravelling and revealing.
Yet all they do is talk it back.
I’d been beyond before.
Far away and out of reach.
Such things I’d seen.
Now the stars drip down like lies off a tongue.
Hold it and eat them. Consume.
Cough.
Try to let me in again, though a distant world away.
An outcast to the tribe.
This could be the saddest day.
And though I get lyrical, as I always will.
Tarred and caught in the well-placed trap.
I ask that you touch me once more.
I am trying.
Come walk these shoes and wear this soul.
Give me new direction.
So easy to get stuck.
But not the other way around.

 

 

Octopus

Cracks in the colossus.
Licking time across new wounds.
Limping and lumbering back into the ocean of your eyes.
Taking lifelines.
That little notepad you kept in your desk.
Right behind your mind.
Scribbling a sonnet for thine truth to break.
And a storm to release.
Sweeping up all the worries and the fish from the bottom of the sea.
I bottled up these sea storms.
The swell in your day.
But you pick and poke at the cork and the corrections.
To then complain that you are soaking wet.
What fable lives now in that oily deep?
What treasures do you covert, claw at and keep?
For in my mind too swim a thousand sharks.
Tasting blood in the water.
Now, no longer able to swim.
A tangle of troubles, the octopus crawling underneath the waves.
Occupying my deep.

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.
Waiting for collapse.
Still hunted.
Still haunted.
On the edge of extinction.

A Halleluiah in the violence

The anger maketh the man.
Bleeding out the words that my head cannot contain.
Pearls for the poets.
Flowers for the loveless.
Laughter for the cynical.
They laugh with me now, the chorus of hyenas.
Eager to strip the soul in such violence.
And as the lion dies inside.
Little birds peck the eyes.
Dropping iron feathers to strip the goodness.
Tearing the history apart.
Like absence encased in an ice cube.
Swilling in the drink you hand me.
They watch every move I make.
Taking me and making me something which I’m not.
A spilt blood lamb.
A blood boiled Allah, fickle and fused.
Living long enough to become your villain.
Broken in bones and shaking to nothing.
Lying in your desert of love.
To be eaten by the angels that circle.
As my ghost escapes through my chest.
Out through your hoops.
Ending in a sigh.

Fighting frontiers

It’s when that hunter calls to you.
And you brace for the arrow, the shot to the heart.
Feeling like an animal.
Fighting to be heard and tolerated.
Breathing in new corrosive air that erodes your lungs.
Deeper into the jungle.
You earthquake proof your soul, and it shakes with the rain.
With a look from these eyes and the sound of their name.
Fighting to fly, to keep these wings feathered down and peacock pleasant.
Stretched over time and the eyelids of a stranger.
Keeping it all in, keeping it all safe.
Fighting against the rules you never made.
Fighting frontiers of tomorrow on the soil of yesterday.
Running with the tigers.
Forever fighting to stay alive.


Taken from ‘Everyday Miracles’ out now

Tender

Like the night. A soft velvet expanse.
Reaching through time.
Through misty eyes which open wide.
They devour me.
In a kiss that kills me, over and over.
Yet tenderly I swim down.
Passing jagged words you keep inside.
Released, only to the moon.
As you howl them into nothingness.
For tender is your way.
Sweet bruises of affection which stay,
within us forever.
As we nestle into the tender wings of love.
Slipping into time.