The Blue of a bruise

Idling of the blood stream.
Brightening those nightmares that shudder.
Twisting in and out of focus.
The mind finding reference points.
All chalky talk and eye darting.
Searching the door to find new weather.
Trust seems lost again.
Blue skies clouded like the eyes of God closing.
Tearing in the rains of revelation.
Words struck the vein.
The devil tastes the pain.
What part is called to be diminished?
Swallowing in a rapture, that unpicks the scars.
A lie to curdle the blood.
A pain to feel alive once more.
Do you know the lungs want to sing?
Padded with angel feathers they heave in lament.
The soul siphoned away, bottled like wine.
Death’s most beautiful throw.
Snatching things, before they grow.

Heliocentric detours

A story unfolding at the speed of life.
Unplugged or imbedded.
They missed the Milky Way.
Drinking once more from a cup of stars.
Do these words seem familiar?
Rub it on your teeth.
Ugly and sweet
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.
Calling for tomorrow.
Now your moon hangs heavy in your heart.
Blue, like the subterfuge.
Shrieking past on a shooting star.
All light and brilliance.
Call it what you want, taste it like confusion.
Lifting into that lunar bloodstream.
But be sure to rinse your mouth with the irresistible.
And swallow the sublime.

Are you there?

Pretty memories slip inside these veins.
Washing you through my blood stream.
You lay over me, thick and heavy.
While I sleep and when I wake.
I hoped to crumble you out of my heart.
Yet you clung on like cancer.
Haunting me.
You evaporate the time when you shook me away.
Dipping our past in acid to burn off the unflattering.
Now you come to me with selective amnesia.
Telling me you love me still.
I smell the alkaloid tinge to those words.
A bruised motive lies underneath.
You were there all along, but failed to hold me.
To reach out when I fell.
When the dogs ripped apart my soul.
Are you there always, watching me?
What did you feel when I cried in the dark.
When the little razor drifted across each wrist like storm clouds.
Would you have moved to mop up the red rain?
Or are you only there for the summer time?
When shadows are your own making.

As the city sleeps

Still waiting for the big revelation.
Be prepared for anything, but do you still believe?
Dreaming of big distractions and carbon copied lives.
Left with diamond headaches and pills to make you sleep.
Don’t sleep, dream. Let it in.
Kick start that desire that you are just as good as God.
Good as gold even. Counting zeros on a monthly slide.
A king or queen of comedy.
Hanging on the end of the line.
Hanging onto anything.
Smear the sugar on your lips and catch the bees.
Be prepared for the sting, decompress and sing.
Close your eyes as your tongue lolls over.
Cityscapes and supernovas.
Mercury swinging in to shift the traffic.
Allowing you to arrive more easily.
Computered to your destination.
Yet missing your arrival.
Sleep another day away.
Swimming in medicated decay.
Remember to set that alarm to wake the city.
Not even giving the dead a rest.

Home of the naive

Disentangled child, cut from the spangled banner.
Speckled in manna, and the god they trust.
As unique as a snowflake.
Beyond the dawn break, of a new and troubled ice age.
Call me on your cell phone.
Buzzing in neon, and a blood point too high to tally.
Covert the freedom.
Sensibilities you need them, as the world cracks and crumbles below.
Oh say can you see?
Beyond all the misery.
There is a land open and free, still waiting for you.
Topple the gods.
In a system at odds, which crackles with such hellish flame.
Pledge allegiance to the drag of a drug in your veins.
Which splits the world and mottles your brain.
Until you die and are reborn again.
So proudly you exhale, a revolution of love.
And a change that cannot fail.
Splattered in white, red and blue.
Be strong. Be courageous. Be you.

Fly me to the moon

Into the shuttle, with a clink and a clank.
Climbed old Richard, the adventurous Yank.
He counted down, from ten to zero.
Puffed out his chest, as America’s new hero.
And he soared into the sky, with his hands in his pockets.
As he shot to the moon on the back of a rocket.
And the earth dripped away under the clouds at his feet.
He smiled at his fortune that was ever so sweet.
Yet alone on this flight, bound for the lunar oasis.
As his body hung on earth in a suspended medical stasis.
In a nursing home called Cherry palm, Richard resided.
At 92, was the best place his children decided;
For him to live out his days in comfort and care.
Little knowing each day was full of lonely despair.
And that is why, though medicated it’s noted.
He navigated the world, and now space where he floated.
And he went where he wanted, on his own in his head.
He travelled to the moon without leaving his bed.
This was how Richard coped with the despair.
Walking in space, above the world without care.

Nothing wrong here

Dressed in those emotions.
Wore the role you wanted.
Let it drip like turpentine.
You showed me your Jesus scar.
And I cut through the confusion.
You leave me buzzing like a motel sign.
Only you could scratch me that deep.
Rush through me like amphetamines.
What did they say when you returned?
Did you make it feel so numb?
Feasting on cartilage and present tense.
Pronouns and words unspent.
Yet the dark offered such shelter and shadows.
Calling you back to another brilliant night.
Where you looked ahead.
Seeing us there.
Stepping over the bodies of others.
To Look me in the eye.
Celebrate me deep.
They all wanted to be wrong.
Singing up their symphony of sorrow
For a loss that had not yet begun.
Bone and cheek.
Questioning our mortality as you trim the fat.
All conquering weirdos.
Destroying the things they never understood.

Who let in the rain?

Underneath that crystal water
Of crushed stars and dreams.
Dwelling like a memory that won’t die.
Lies a soul.
Frayed and tattered.
Filled with thoughts of eucalyptus leaves and saffron.
Tide up in heartstrings and self-made knots.
Tackling the torrents soundlessly.
To drown silently in a rising tide.
This was their gift to you.
Keeping the truth and the pain out of your eyes.
Packing soot and coal into the sockets.
Trembling inside and yet still.
Like a sewn up teddy bear.
All glass eyed reflective.
Placid.
Who let that rain in, to wash the hope away?
Deluged in dopamine and on the brink of decay.
Each drop inched closer.
Under the door and down their spine.
Exploding the sky with a grey that blocked out heaven.
God made the rain, the floods and the tide.
To wash away the sinners, the soulless and already sunken.
Yet she was always destined to float.
Catching stars in pockets and wiping the salvation across our mouths.
But the rain came in.
Straw ladened and camel shaking.
Soaked in misery and shame.
And now she is lost under the surface.
Ripped away in the undertow.
Growing gills and thicker skin.
Crashing on someone else’s shore.

Beauty trapped

Bind my heart, break my bones.
Sneak in when the lights are off.
When my guard is down.
Snap my soul and slip inside.
Overwhelm and consume me like heroin.
The addict in me pulls you near.
Breathe me in, suck me out.
Spun up in your mind like a crystal chandelier.
Precarious precious beauty.
Your hands on my innocence.
Pulling me down, knocking me over.
Teaching me how to fly.

Gonna get burned

You’re the one who comes between us.
Coughing out your IQ.
Slipping your hand behind the couch of the night.
Always slipping away.
Leaving me choking on spent haemoglobin.
My mind is wild and my eyes are wide.
But they scarcely see you.
The black bruise of loneliness settles all around.
Weightless and bare.
In the dark, it all looks the same.
Then you set this all on fire.
Warming your hands by the great destruction.
Casting on gasoline comments of indifference.
These words from you are vulgar.
Yet I thank you for your time.
Breathing them in and setting up homes for them inside of me.
Precious fragile fragments of attention.
Your racing heart surprises, it brings me back.
Brings me down.
Simmering into something else.
I come back to you again in little pieces.
Littering your soul.

Jesus jam

That Octopus, that alligator.
On heaven’s brow, god’s travelator.
Tipping the scales, licking honey.
Bring too all such milk and money.
Sipping on sweet lemonade.
Cherry wine and razor blades.
Who’s in danger?
Who’s in hell?
Count those cell phones with tortoise shells.
This computer says we are many things.
In need of love or diamond rings.
Error. Escape, with all the wrong friends.
Beatnik bars and downward trends.
Smile if you think we’re happy.
Laugh if you think we’re trending.
Certain grams, work alarms, good times never ending.
Pack your life now into a suitcase.
Sadness in a sardonic typeface.
Wash away those bruises with beer.
Turpentine and celebrity gear.
A neon fog to dull the senses.
Lowered expectations and all defences.
Forget that talk of Satan’s lamb.
The bits in-between, is Jesus jam.

Save yourself/serve yourself

Now that we are so anaesthetised.
We settle for blankness.
Without any compromise.
You suck the soul from us every day.
Filling the void with countenance and suspicion.
Such a beautiful paradox, what a time to be alive.
So lazy by design.
You wear the masks of the familiar.
Cutting the ties that bind us to our future.
And who are we to utter, the silent stutter into separation.
Your IS desperation to keep us scared.
There is no oil here, only pits of anger.
Bubbling to the surface.
Such disturbance now at the house.
The roaring of a mouse, of a nation who were followers.
Now numbering the chorus that’s out of control.
Democracy hangs in the air, like the miasma of the 18th century.
Fogging London once more with a noxious distaste.
We all wear our own tin foil crowns.
Crunching the bones of despair.
The Fear of standing for something.
I am but one of many, lounging in my paralysis.
A self-inflicted state of disconnect.
Waiting for the numbness to arrive.

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.

Checkers and chess

How to topple the king which wears the crown so royally.
Moments and magnesium fill the place of diamonds and gems.
Wrapped in much Fools gold.
And the crown heaves down, rubbing red and raw.
Check
A life long lived with much regret.
Check.
How we turn the heels and fled.
To learn a life in which to lead, we watch the others.
Little eyes through holes in fences.
A voyeuristic violation, into their little galaxies.
That swirl and sway like the black in the white.
Changing from dismay, into delight.
And you take this horse by the reigns, and lead me through the forest.
Through the clearing of my ill begotten ways.
Out of the woods, out of the storm.
Peppering poppies that fill my lungs with such poisonous perspective.
And show me.
That I had been asleep all this time.