Windout

Be prepared for anything.
Little truths and indiscretions.
The joy will dig real deep.
As years fall away into memory.
You look forward, into my dreams.
Ignore those interruptions of life.
The wind in your chest breathes now.
This is your new religion.

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Enamoured

Are you ready, to drop from the sky.
For your bones to feel alive.
Forget that we’re miles apart.
Drift into the light, then dream and breathe me.
Be with me, as the night comes.
And time laps at our feet.
This is our moments colliding.
Walking away from hurt and the decay of yesterday.
Those healing words that rip across my heart.
That speak of times where a smile is etched across our lives.
An odyssey to tell by those we leave behind.
For these moments are precious and solitary to only us.
A grappling hand, in the chaos that today threatens.
Steadied and secure, cupped in my own.
In my eye line.
Which blazes with the light you offer.
Bottled, stowed and suffice.
Living. Here. Now.
Enamoured.

Winter gold

To the good times that we all share.
A rousing heat inside our hearts.
Bursting and threatening to shatter;
the dark mirrored shell that surrounds us.
At times, when lowest degrees permeate.
And latitudes of light are beyond our horizons.
We can feel it, like a rumbling thunder.
An energy of love in the soil beneath our feet.
Go barefoot into that land.
Feel the throb in your bones.
Of a light shattering out from within.
Washing the deserts in a sickening sea of joy.
For you will not drown, or even get wet.
For inside is where the water tumbles.
Scarlet rivers that bring air and reasons to your smile.
This dreamscape is cracking out of the darkness.
Like a conker out of its prickly casing.
The sleek, shiny version of self is waiting to breathe,
unsheathe, and glow in the winter’s sun.

Between the jars: ‘In space we dream’

‘P’erl’ came the voice. Softly, like a snowflake landing on her ear. Her eyes were closed still, she felt the webbing around her body, keeping her in place. She was hesitant to open them, such dreams she’d had, and they were in danger of slipping away if she opened her eyes. It was so rare for her to sleep, and when she did, the night flashes came, robbing her of any peace. She was unusual for her kind. The rest of Europa never had dreams, never suffered the nightmares of other worlds parade across her mind like she did. Calling out in despair and anger. She’d learned not to sleep. She had learned a lot just to live.

It came again ‘P’erl’, a little stronger; this time the other side of her head. Her eyes flickered apart and scanned, she found no-one there. Her room lay beneath her empty and quiet. She hung up in the rafters, encased in the white webbing that held sleep, and dreamless sleeps for everyone but her. She knew the voice now, she had known it before. Her inner self telling her, it was time to go.


They are coming back....The lady of the jars and girl from Europa. New entry coming soon. To read the previous installments check out the story so far.

Peck

There, can you hear it?
A relentless tapping.
Incessant as the dark which captures the night.
It comes and never leaves. Beating out the marrow of my bones.
Do not shake your head in disbelief, it’s a nightmare for which I seek relief.
Hello, it’s me here the fluttering reminder.
You inside me, what is that sound?
It’s breaking my will and senses down.
I’m the little bird that was on your windowpane.
I came inside when you opened that vein.

And now you tap inside my skull all day?
I’m here yes, and happy to say;
better me than the moths and ghosts.
Who’d nibble at your heart like toast.
If I move to the light, will you follow?
I told you once, your head is not hollow; you know that I am here to stay.
For how long?
Well, I couldn’t say.
I hope my fluttering would lodge that organ.
Of pulsing grey and tangle webs.
Of thoughts and hopes inside this head.
Lodge them why, what do I need?
I am safe alone, without any need;
of impulses that force me out of comfort.
Or being lost, failed abandoned then hurt.
I tap and knock as an irritant reminder.
You’re wasting time here, like a static sidewinder.
An empty column of force and wind.
That’s fading fast, anorexically thinned.

(Sigh)
I know, you’re right, but what can I do?
I had my dreams, but away they flew.
I’ll tell you what, there is tomorrow.
I’ll start it all then, and dreams will follow.
Then I will carry on with my tapping.
To keep you from your easy napping.
I said tomorrow I’ll chase those dreams.
For now please cease these needless screams.
Of forcing me, when I’m feeling forced.
Very well my friend, you steer your course.
But If not today, then tell me then.
If not then why, and perhaps then when?

A Funeral of thoughts

An earthy taste in your mouth.
The soil that slips from your lunar lips.
Is a burying of the old.
Broken thoughts grown frail and forgotten.
They’d rambled in your mind like an aged pensioner.
One that no-one bothered to check on.
Whose milk bottles of intent built up on their doorstep.
These thoughts tried to slip away in the night.
Silently and painless in the light of a new day.
In the light you bring.
Those thoughts that are the shadows of self.
From the dark side of the moon of the mind.
Fearful of the sun, that shines from your eyes.
Dirt, on my pillow when I wake.
Burying the thoughts in dreams masked as nightmares.
Finally, dead and buried.

In sleep

Waiting, till we’re lost and quiet.
Caught out in a silhouette.
These shadows cover the eyes of the brave.
A needle of swords that keep the monsters at bay.
This flesh is tired and tied to a thought that cannot be released.
So I fight them in my sleep, these monsters that creep into my world.
The séance that claws and fumbles like talons at our skull.
Realised, this is damaging and bruising to the honest.
The silence in us, is forcing a defeat.
Demons, who walk with unabandon across my sunlit life.
Mocking us like a bag caught in the branches of a tree.
So I fight them in my sleep, these monsters that creep into my world.
Harkened the darkened voices that breathe and heave.
Calling and coming closer to me.
Whispering of a madness that covers us like ghostly intrigue.
But the morning never banishes the voices of disorder.
For which such havoc is birthed from the words that now live and breathe.
But we can fight them in our sleep, these monsters that creep into our world.
It’s the only place they can be defeated.
In dreams. In sleep.

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

 

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.

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.

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.

TAKE MY FORGOTTEN

Do you know, this all feels the same now.
Eyes that hang down with gravity.
Tender but so tired.
Reproachful fingers that feel their way to my shoulder.
Checking I’m still here.
Scared to touch, but desperate to comfort.
My refugee emotions lay claim to nothing.
Stolen of their gold, now left to hang like robbed out trees.
Fruit rotting on the floor.
Don’t kill my dreams then tell me I’ll live forever.
How much of the dark do you expect me to see?
No, the world is a vast ocean to me now.
And I’ve always been afraid of the water.

Just for once

See it skimming now.
Across the London skyline.
Falling down like ill intent and sad November rain.
It’s the film of your life, playing on.
Capturing all the earthly raptures of your dying dreams.
Soaking everyone, but never wet enough to drown.
Mouths full of ash talk on repeat.
Embers of the dead spark in their eyes.
Where did you travel from today?
Laying siege to the bright lights and the big city.
As the tube tunnels strike though the under belly of the beast.
Broken down, in this broken town.
Is this really where you want to be?
Who told you to never cross this sea?
Let the rain fall and flood, wash it all clean.
Wring out your soul and tear away the patches that are stained.
Take this life back, it’s yours.
Rewind the film.
Remember what makes these days worth breathing.
Worth cracking your eyes open for each morning.
They love you, so please come home.

Anywhere else

I want you to remember.
As you struggle to breath.
While you shake and crack, and wither within.
Close those eyes which hang like dying stars.
And dream.
Welcome in the disassociation.
I’ll hang the universe on you while you sleep.
Remembering where it all begun.
You and the stars will fall silent.
Drifting once more into the beyond that calls to you.
Which has always called, but you’ve never responded.
I want you to remember.
All the things I feel.
All the ways the memories form like ice around your eyes.
A Siberian shift into summer songs.
Flavoured voices caught in the air and on your tongue.
Try and remember.
Which days to savour, and which to let go like planetary balloons.
Floating out of your solar system.
As you fall into now.

Lost in Tibetan snow

Winter tickled at his heart.
He found the snow of a thousand years cover his feet while he slept;
in the glowing dreams of a Himalayan moon.
Rambling across a dreamscape that promised much change.
The little links in a chain of the forgotten.
He shed his skin like the leaves.
Floated away to liquid and a utopia on the back of a comet.
His mind hardened by the rocks he pulled from his stomach.
The teeth of the terrible that fell away like empty bottles.
Pooling in his soul.
If you care to look, you may find him.
Casting shadows on the moon while the wind breaks.
Peering into your head while the dreams suspended you.
Eating on the decay of your heart, as the world turns.
He was never one for this earth.
Which is why he does not cry when it crumbles.

Looking at the distance

Where did the morning sun go?
That grew and flowered on my sleeve.
Made way for the darkening globe, and the urban noise.
Thoughts of you chased me though the city of Manhattan.
Tomorrow you settle into the victory, the arms of love.
Sidewalks and segues into different dreams.
The outback rattles and ransacks our minds.
Climbing higher than the skyscrapers, your dreads do climb.
If only I were a passenger, I would hold on tight.
Rushing like the ghosts through your bones to safety.
But you give me the directions, detours into chasms that are stained with your soul.
An inky black that creeps and dwells within.
And ask me to bare the light, to banish the darkness forever.
You ask all of this, as the sun rolls into twilight’s lap.
You pray for change and those arms of love that squeeze.
Careful like a dove, that hopes to soon be flying.
All of this, half a world away.

The Prologue and the promise

We took a dream to a land we did not know.
You closed your eyes and disappeared.
Let loose of the gravity that was holding you.
We wanted to be anywhere, somewhere.
With orange juice skies and the smell of peppermint.
To forget is to disappear.
A war which rages in our absences, devoid of our participation.
Kills the sky and marks the earth.
But here, in our land of other, we drink a dream.
Soaking in the manna and the marrow of the bones we wish to be.
The chiming sweet chorus that facilitates the soul.
A world that blankets the old.
This is our now, our future our place.
In which to wake from the dream.
To shake the soot from our space and reclaim what was always meant to be.

(Art: Robert McCall, “The Prologue and the Promise”)