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.

Silence and light

Between the moments.
Straddling the sigh.
The light there in your eyes.
What seeps into the space between.
Bookended against love and needful things.
What must I give, to receive.
This alchemy on the tempering waves of now.
In the dwindling darkness of despair.
My ego tried to take me there.
To a place where I need not change.
A gloomy existence of languished dead dreams.
But light split the seams.
Silently breaking a new dawn.
Whispering forever.

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.
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 breath that was losing air and strength.
‘Then never think of me.’
Closing their eyes to a mounting disaster.
One that came in with the rain.
That day I left.
Impossible words ringing in ears
Ones that had heard such sweetness before.

Closing doors that would never again be opened.
Shutting the windows to suffocate the memories.
The price we pay to save ourselves, when our worth is so low.
Once thought so precious.
Pales compared to the devil, who sits in the shadows.
Tallying up our souls.

Softer like that sigh


SOFT LIKE A SIGH
Sleep speckles these eyes.
Leaving dreams like fingerprints on my eyelids.
I break that vision of you down, prismed and scattered.
Tasting like crystal.
When the fragrant sound of your voice touched me.
I unfurled like a bud awakening to the morning song.
The sheet of love hangs across my heart, pounding like the rain.
You step inside, feeling the walls to my lungs while you breathe new life in.
Breath like ocean spray and the hint of gladioli.
I mark this dream, for it’s the only place I can find you.
The only place I trust you to be there.
Collected and kept like a shell on a mantlepiece.
Placed for my own enjoyment, and a sign of a well-travelled bones.
Yet the possession bothers you not, for you rise like the moon in daytime.
Defiant against the sun.
Casting long reaching shadows that follow me throughout my day.
Cooling my skin where I touch upon them.
Touching part of your soul, those bits you let escape.
It must be a waking dream that haunts and carries me.
Keeping me contacted and close.
Cuddled against the consternation of being alive.
Being of being, with you so far away.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


Conspicuous by its absence

Welcome to the survival.
The nest in the mind, padded with gold and turpentine.
Cleansing the stain of a life lived in regret.
Galvanising all that remains.
Precious in its circumstance.
Your uniqueness burns like a church candle.
Sacred.
Cherished.
Sanctified and blessed by its very existence.
Placed there by someone who cared to care.
What is lost, can be forgotten.
The darkness leaves little space.
We fill this void with flowers.
Where the teeth once were rotten.
An ivory tower of hope now climbs.
All inside.
Built back upon tears and upheaval.
Pulled out from the most terrible of histories.
Yet still breathing, a product of now.
Electrified by the thought of change.
Scatter your sparks into the spaces that ache in emptiness.
And save yourself, for only you ever can.

Jaws

Those words that flowered down in your skin.
Tickling like cancer.
A love that swelled like a harbour master’s fear.
At the sight of a 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 hurt 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.

Patterns on our soul

Wandering in a time of danger.
Leaves me shaking.
My cheeks all rosy red.
Winter, creeping into my eyes like tears.
But inside, it’s all warm.
All still wet.
Gushing a crimson love that is full of elation.
Utopic movements cloaked in everyday actions.
A sideways look to you.
Words pulled from my mouth like pearls.
A cough to breathe, bringing up sand and seaweed.
Having dredged our love from the bottom of the ocean.
Down in the depths where the wreckage once lay.
There is sand in your eyes, sparkling like gold.
You lick moments over me now.
Silky and familiar.
Once a comforting lie, now this time a truth.
This is now, the place we have crashed and shattered into.
Burning still from the fire.
Fading away in the rain of a thousand lifetimes.
Let me suck that eucalyptus air from your lungs.
For I only want to breathe now, if you are breathing.

Fading


FADE

Hold me and heal me.
Chase the darkness away.
Rock me to sleep.
Cut your wrists and then stay.
Forever in this palace of darkness and time.
Locked in a dream.
All beautiful and mine.
Forget all the world, with its promise of pain.
Hold me and fade.
Like a tear in the rain.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


The Flowers of revolution

Have you seen?
God’s opportunity.
Inside psalms which scratch your heart.
Voices so strong they stabilise heaven.
Disappear and discover that new challenge.
Which calls you higher.
You remember the way I fell.
I remember your outstretched healing hands.
It’s my only reference point now.
Blooming the songs and suspicions in my mind.
How could you be so sincere?
This imagination comes alive and shakes me.
My snow globe mind.
And in mind of my defence, I used to not believe.
Your simple kiss changed that.
And shook me deep.
These flowers I now weep.


Taken from Kill ’em with kindness – out now

Muddy deep sleep

Not over, not complete.
Just fading away.
A blissful depression hung up like ruby red apples.
Strung like silly smiles on those too drunk to know.
This moment washes over, the gravity pulls you down.
Chipping out teeth like tombstones yanked from the ground.
Oh the silence that it unearths.
The faded names who hoped the future would be different.
But the future just teaches loneliness.
As a departure descends.
That long goodbye, hard on the ears but softly spoken.
Trembling in time.
Nothing really dies.
We all just fade away.
Siphoned into space.
Breathed out on earth’s asthmatic exhale.
Heaving under strain.
Replaced by things we all despise.
How we spin and sigh and scream.
Reduced to floating dust and regret.
Asleep and dormant, waiting for the nothing.
Fearing the repeat.

Typhoid and many swans


TYPHOID AND SWANS

Summer days with rain.
A tearing at this side.
Spilling petals and ruin.
A Day with the night.
The moon, coming into view pocked and dusty.
Out in the ocean, cast into life.
Waiting for the smile to flow from a sentence.
Communication, then nothing.
Nothing, then communication.
A constant pulse of anxious disregard.
Release now, free of feelings.
Feathers dipped in oil.
Diseases and love that swallow like a lake.
To eat off of chipped china, filling stomachs swollen with greed.
And such need.
To scrub away the blood that stains.
The candy stuck in the tooth.
We are all but sticks floating down the river of life.
Passing through the weeping willows of the world.
Making our way to swamps, not seas.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


Future in the ridiculing stars

In this weakness, I split a seam.
Pulled like a petal on the winds.
Love crept in before I could find the right words.
Ones to keep it at bay.
And its wonderment that now rushes me like a ghost.
Leaving precious bits of joy between my teeth.
Bits of your soul to chew over.
A deeper thread is laid.
Woven with violets and green tea murmurings.
Heady conversations that drum in my mind.
The universe repeats such rehearsed dialogue.
Playing back, your voice like that of god.
Words I heard before, now more precious than ever.
I left the universe there, captured in a moment.
Cupped in my hands next to your precious heart.
Struggling against the sun and the sanity.
Threatening such a beautiful return of Saturn.
The homeward point of my compass.
We fight the need to collapse into now.
Knowing the future is brighter when the stars in our blood pool.

 

Aligned

Words tumbling like teeth.
The gravity that pulls beneath.
Sweet words that wreak such havoc.
Three lined up like stars.
The arrow across the cosmos.
Aimed at my heart, pulled as always by your fingers.
Ones I’ve kissed before.
As they’ve trembled.
Aligned our bones to keep the cold out.
The travesty of dependence and care.
Though you find the words, you seemed afraid to talk.
Looking westward.
Eyes searching for the southern air.
The beach where we used to walk.
Let me cup you in my thoughts.
That wrap around like time.
Bleeding ink into your paper heart.
Staining your soul with love.

Tea?

“Take milk in your tea Janine?” the old lady called, her purple hands gripping the milk jug tightly. She stood by the fridge, the yellow light illuminating her aged face. The small creature in the chair shook her head.

“Odd. Couldn’t have a tea without a nice bit of milk, me!” She said, and as if to prove the point; she slopped the milk in her own cup on the table, bringing the contents up to the brim. She returned the milk jug back to the fridge and sat down opposite the girl.

“Digestive?” She asked, nudging the plate full of biscuits towards the young creature.

She shook her head again, her coloured red hair falling down in front of her face.

“You kids these days, never eat anything. All skin and bone. When I was a child, my mother used to feed us dripping on bread. That would put meat on you!”

She pulled the plate of biscuits back towards her and stole one up off the china. She took a bite. The girl watched as the crumbs fell onto her flowery blouse carelessly, some falling on the dark wooden table beneath.

“Me’ husband used to love digestive biscuits, his favourite they were. Always dunking them in his tea. He used to get so mad if they fell in.” She laughed at the memory and took another bite from her own biscuit which had escaped the perilous dunk intact. The clock on the wall behind them ticked away merrily, filling the silence with its pendulous rhythm.

Her kitchen was small but clean. It was dated, like most kitchens of the elderly; but was cosy in an old cottage way. The two of them sat at the table while the afternoon sun shone through the windows. The girl shifted in her seat. The old lady looked up.

“Are you uncomfortable?” She asked sweetly.

The girl didn’t say anything but continued to stare at her across the table.

“Would you like me to call your parents to come and pick you up? It’s getting late.” She said. She drank some of her tea casually.

At this the girl raised her head slightly.

The old lady nodded. She put down her cup and slid her chair back. She walked around the table slowly, holding her side where her hip usually acted up this time of the day. She stood behind the girl and pulled the tape off her mouth. It was wet slightly as the girls’ tears had trickled down upon it.

“Please, let me go. I’m so sorry. Please, I just want to get out of here. I won’t tell anyone….” The girl sobbed. Her eyes were as red as her coloured hair. Her hands were tied to the back of the chair with a belt, which had belonged to the husband who had so enjoyed digestive biscuits.

“I’d be happy to. But what’s to stop you coming back, eh? Or breaking into Ethel’s house next door?” the old woman said. And with this she reached to the counter and picked up the large bread knife she had on her chopping board. She placed it down next to the girl, whose eyes flared at the sight of it.

“We won’t. We won’t I swear, please just let me and the others go.” The girl, no older than fifteen, wailed. The old lady chuckled.

“Oh, I’m afraid Jack has been having some fun with your friends down in the cellar. I doubt there’s much left of them now. He’s such a good dog. Very loyal.” The old woman said. She picked up the knife and slipped it through the belt buckle, freeing the girl’s hands.

The girl sat there, the weight of the situation falling upon her in that heavy moment. She glanced at the back door, not far really. If she pushed the old lady and made a run for it, she could probably make it. But what if it was locked? The old lady walked back around the table, the knife in her hand, the other holding her dodgy hip. She heaved heavily; years of smoking had finally caught up with her.

“Well. I’m not going to hurt you; not like you’d do to me I’d say. I think a fright is bad enough for a girl your age.”

“Then what do you want?” The girl asked, fresh confusion in her skull.

The old lady looked at her with her milky eyes, as if surprised by the question.

“Why, to have some tea of course.” She said, lifting her cup; indicating she should do the same. The girl stared for a moment longer before conceding and picked up the tea that sat on the table in front of her. Her hands shook and were sore from being bound to the chair. She was unsure of playing along, but now her hands were free, she sensed a bit more of a chance of escape.

Lifting it to her lips she sipped from the cup, the scorching water burning her mouth in her haste to drink it. She flashed her eyes to the old lady, as if to say ‘okay, now let me go’.

“There. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” She said, sipping her own mug which had a picture of Charles and Diana on the china. She closed her eyes, savouring the brewy goodness of a warm cup of tea, deeply satisfied.

It had been about a month ago that she’d had rats in her garden, and a nice chap from the council had brought some traps and some rat poison to do away with the horrid beasts.


Taken from Impermanence of things – out now

Impermanence of things of things book cover

Taking you apart again


TAKE YOU APART

To pull open your world, and sneak inside.
Tearing out your heart, giving you mine.
Feeling each rise and fall of your chest.
Would lay me out like gold.
Each breath conquers me.
As you lick your lips.
Suggesting that is where we build our home.
On the tip of something beautiful.
We’ve cried out our past.
Knocked down each remnant of uncertainty.
Covering our delicate present in feathers and down.
For this is where we shall collapse.
And watch true love collide.
Collecting it up in a bucket of flesh and stars.

MORE VIDEO ART HERE


 

Everything I know, fades away

A formulaic response to want.
Filling in the void that smothers with blackness.
Empty like the thoughts of change.
In minds that remain the same.
Yet a latent strain of kindness struggled.
Crept out of the soil that covered us.
Sparked by the light in your eyes.
As it crept down in time.
An now the world is fragrant once again.
Washed with colour and vividness.
Alive with flowers that bloom.
For I know, I will be with you soon.

Sometimes, only tears

Throw it away.
It hangs heavy in your hands.
A broken love all torn and heavy.
Easy to let it slip into the folds of time.
It came there suddenly, the tear in their eye.
Hanging like a beautiful jewel in the corner of the fleshy oyster.
Threatening.
Threatening to tumble, fall and disappear.
Smudge into a cheek or dripped away with fear.
The silence kisses the skin, and darkness breathes upon the neck.
An invasion hurried by the darkest forces.
Throw it away.
Wouldn’t it be better.
The pumping flower struggling to survive.
Wet with dew drops birthed in this moment.
The tears speak of a hurt, unseen yet complete.
A collapse inside like twin towers.
Don’t listen to the breaking.
How can they throw it away.
Something they cannot call their own.
Wouldn’t it be better.
If they stayed?

Intimate horror

At the door there comes a rapping.
On hallowed ground you hear a tapping.
The pumpkin trail that led them there.
To trick or treat, and scream and scare.
Hobgoblins and witches together in groups.
Angels and a devils, leading the troops.
To smile and laugh at the seasonal tricks.
Grabbing candy and lollipops for furious licks.
So do not wonder what Jesus would do.
Or Mohammed, Buddhist or secular Jews.
For of this season we can take much notice.
Of sharing light or the sacred lotus.
For though they take, of that we give.
It’s Halloween that’s all inclusive.

Fright night

All year round he kept to himself.
Quiet and content, like a book on a shelf.
It was Halloween though when the tables turned.
And in his head, those thoughts had churned.
To live it up, go mad and wild.
To put on costumes, like any other child.
He loved that night when he fitted in.
And wasn’t shamed or drenched in sin.
He could go out and talk to others.
His friends, his mum and all his brothers.
Accepted him and played for ages.
Some souls to flick through his dusty pages.
It was Halloween he loved and longed for.
The skulls and sweets; and dismembered gore.
He felt alive and loved the freedom.
That came with the scares of the creepy season.
For that was the time he loved the most.
For poor old Charlie was such a lonely ghost.

Nemesis (Story reading)


Silence came only when she closed her eyes. When she could visually shut the world up for a moment. She had practised to do this, years of trying to silence the noises and the demands of all around her. Her world was her own when her eyes were wide shut. These weren’t flights of fancy into different realms, or some grapple with mental tectonic plates. She had a quiet space and peaceful world in her head which was the copy of the world around her.

It was just devoid of others.

Other people troubled, angered, confronted, demanded and taxed her. They played on her time and patience, milking off her generosity as if it were an endless source. How much should she have to contend with? What was a reasonable demand on her each day that she woke, roamed and entertained this thing called life? Must she always be left reduced by a need to give…..


Taken from ‘Dislocated’ – out now

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.
Scattering petals of our bloom.
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.
These plagues are temporary.
Hold me if I slip.
I will catch you if you stumble.
Walking on this wire, we must be careful.
Because the fall will kill us both.

A Future sprung from a many thousand wounds

The universe crept closer, seeping into the open wounds.
Its voice hushed like the sound of a million stars.
I must say this to you.
The words confessed, expressed and digested.
Some lost in the confusion of expectation.
I thought you were stronger, I didn’t see the scars that still bleed.
He nodded in knowing, in seeing the everything there in a moment.
Nobody’s perfect, he coughed back, time leaking from his mouth.
You were once much stronger, but each time around you faded a little.
Now the version before me, has too many cracks for what I gave.

He sighed, and closed his eyes, wishing he were as strong as they wanted.
God never spoke to him this way.
He always moved in shadows and light, avoiding the reply like a child ignoring consequence.
He knows that, he knows it hurts. But that is not why he doesn’t reply.
The universe spun out a sentence which made the floor ache.
His heart dissolved in the hearing, and was born once more in the understanding.
I never knew, I had begun to think he didn’t care.
Your strength I see, lies elsewhere.
And with that, it left, letting fate swim across his eyes like coy in a crystal pond.
He once more stepped from the past, onwards.
The future, taking it all away.

Some kind of stranger

There were stories of course.
Bad childhoods and frequent trauma.
Violence was like the rain, blown in like a storm.
But she did not live in the past too much.
Her story was colliding forever into tomorrow.
Wiping off the fever that electrified each night.
She had been beaten and adorned.
Wrapped both pearls and handcuffs around her arms.
Flesh was to be devoured.
Ghastly and exciting, making a mess in her soul.
She wiped away the blood drool.
What lay between her lips, her soul, her hips.
Was given by her own decision.
A consensual bargaining, for being alive.
For being a creature so prone to movement.
The survival of the imagination.
Her look that cuts the room.
The heart pierced by gloom.
Made her a provocateur for a classless age.
You would smell her on your sheets.
Crave the wet drip that smouldered still on your tongue.
But she would be gone.
Side stepping a fall from a grace she named herself.
Wearing her own crown, made of tinfoil and treasure.
But it will not always be that way.
The legs that part make way for opportunity.
Which always finds its mark, awash with indecision.
She was the girl that left too soon.
She was the guy who bought the moon.
And sold stars instead.
He is not one to remember fondly, his past indiscretions.
But shame had no place in his beautiful heart.
And his story starts, not with a departure.
But a glorious homecoming.