Exhumed

Underneath and in the ground.
Buried deep without a sound.
Lies my body, its shell and bones.
Under layers of rocks and stones.
A tyrannosaur heart that roared at first.
But all too soon, swelled and burst.
You killed me once with your flaming comet.
Across my sky, your departing sonnet.
Our love, which first, defied distinction.
All too soon embraced extinction.
It could not survive the battles we raged.
Like warring beasts, housed in a cage.
You bit, and snapped and left me dying.
A fallen giant, cold and crying.
And so my flesh transformed to oil.
The precious black gold beneath the soil.
And you evolved and then migrated.
Our DNA of trust abated.
This amber love was thus entombed.
Waiting in time, to be exhumed.

Argue

What did they tell you about this future?
While the TV played on and you half listened.
This heart you mangled and molded.
These flowers died a long time ago.
Who is to blame?
Distance. Family.
Your fake departure, when your heart wasn’t in it.
Made all too easy for you.
Red letter days and disappointments. Plastic friends.
Those that melt in the heat while the kitchen burns.
Who dries your eyes now?
Lazarus lies, housewives. Shopping that ego.
Choking on the need to be right.
All those lies have now been tagged.
Selfish. Self-aware. Convenient amnesia.
All built on your version of events.
Apologies now that are forbidden.
Poisonous to the tongue.
Under rug sweeping.
These broken pieces of a person you once knew.
Only you.
As you blur once more into everybody else.

Baptised by you

That endless world they talk of.
A Drowned world.
It opened in my heart when the starry waves washed inside.
When you looked at me.
With that light of god in your eyes.
And in that moment, like that pebble in your hand.
You grasped at the infinite.
You consumed my soul.
And we would remain forever bound.
Like that pebble in the ferocious stream.
Washed endlessly by the cosmic current.
Until clean.

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.

Lurk

Malcontent to stop me dreaming.
A bitter play that keeps revealing.
Scenes upon a static stage.
The macabre heart for this new age.
For doubt replaces it’s bloody setting.
A pumping organ that keeps forgetting.
That you lurk inside this hazy past.
A haunting ghost that always lasts.
And wades on through our murky trauma.
Pining for a love that former,
took the place you now reside.
And kills this love that I tried to hide.

Seasons of a wandering heart (Out now)

Seasons change like memories. Swelling on a yearly cosmic tide. Never free from change, we move like blood coursing through a body, pumped by a heart under the pressures of life and circumstance.

Discover this photopoetry collection while you drift, snapshots in time across the seasons that wander into your eyeline. From Spring to Winter, course your path across the yearly interval and meet visitors such as love, pain, wonder and friendship.

Wander, and wonder with eyes and heart wide open.

This work is a collaborative collection with fellow artist and poet June Okochi

Book cover tree snow

NOUS SAVIONS TOUJOURS


Peel away this faded grey.
The looming nightmare that hovers on my lips.
Like a poisoned kiss.
These eyes will open, and will always remember.
Screaming gravities that moved through us.
You wanted to see it all for yourself.
The dawning, a reforming of what was left to offer.
A thing moulded deep in the stomach of god.
Once called love.
Now twinkling like a Christmas star above us.
Stripped and salvaged from its tattered abandonment.
Where we found it, flat on the ground.
Walked over and left for dead.
Keep it now, safe and captured.
Like a flightless bird on the verge of extinction.
Like summertime on an autumn afternoon.
It fell from grace, our love; but now moves into place.
Filling the gaps that understanding failed to fill.
No dream.
Just the darkness caving in.



SEASONS OF A WANDERING HEART

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.

Gravity not holding

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.
Lifting once more into a dream.

Maturation

The sun illuminates such maddening visions.
Of logical paths I dare not tread.
A way to your soul that is covered in thorns.
The heat burns and chars like the wattle trees.
My bones like their branches.
Crumbling and dead.
Yet words you whisper on the Nullarbor winds.
Reach me over oceans.
Washing into my veins like scented magic poison.
An oxygen for my heart which longs to be with you.
So I twist towards the sun, though it burns in your direction.
Blaring up from below the equator.
Through a lens of love and reproach.
Like a plant feeling a new growth, bursting from my skin.
A love is grown again within.
Hoping to be potted, once again in your dusty soil.

Black box

Reaching for you as earth says its goodbye.
What is this thing that takes flight.
Soaring through uncharted and terror drenched clouds.
As I look for monsters out the window.
If this plane were to fall from the sky.
Tear into the ground, this thing wrapped in meaning.
Would it leave a hole in my heart? Would it turn me to dust?
A fallen bird needing to fly, this thing called love.

When you think about your life, I surround you in gentle sympathy

Oily hands which pin warnings to the walls of your paper cathedrals.
Closing their eyes to the view of sorrow.
It stretched before them, and under your skin.
Cool, when not engulfed in such flames of disgust.
Little cracks in stone, slowly crumble pillars of discontent.
The columns that held our gods too high.
Out of reach, on the horizon.
How can we touch the finger of god.
When we choose to crawl on swollen bellies.
Pick the needle which will penetrate the precious heart.
Kept in glass, and passed down and around but never treasured.
Wake up those angels which sleep inside.
Do not run and hide, from a future which began yesterday.
Tip the grey to another shade and shake out a song.
One which can be played at any funeral.
Signalling a death of something, and the beginning of such wonder.

Leave us where we lay

His heart, now the colour of his wife.
Ashen grey and broken.
The urn smashed, scattering them both across the clouds.
Little flecks of life stuck on the window of the world.
As the volcanoes rumbled and the gods groaned.
Down they both came in the rains.
Licked up by the wood spirits and the humans below.
Pooling in the heart of the world.
Cells and shells, finding the seabed of the soul.
Undulating to the sound of time.
Those tears of the gods which fell in this passing.
Are drunk only by the sinners, like sweet wine.

Go slowly

The second guessing, the never knowing;
Framing the mistakes we make.
Blessed with an ability to undo me.
Take me down, feel your way.
Leave nothing on this body to explore.
Don’t sit there motionless because you know the answer.
Discover.
Over and over again.
This skeleton underneath.
This heart that beats.
A sweat that runs for you.
Mind your step as you flee the room.
(Please wait while I undress).
[Re-dress.]
Address your intent.
We all want to play in traffic, but this is serious now.
Break me like a three year old would.
Love me like you were meant to.
Hold it all in your hands like i’ve come from the land of gold.
Such precious illusions as I hold my breath.

Lost in the faraway

The conjuring dreams.
Of moments in time.
Love lost on your lips.
Your hand in mine.
Kicking this cactus heart around.
Fresh like mint on my tongue.
Calling you out of the clouds.
Out of my bones that feel as heavy as China.
One of those falling dreams.
Like you’re here.
But still gone.

A Great unravelling

Pull here she said.
A little chord, so deep.
So red.
And unravelled the great divide.
Pulling down the curtains, the illusions.
What was before, now gone. Faded into time.
She smiled, with a small frustration remaining in her eyes.
Of why it took so long.
All around the walls of the world fell.
No sound but the wind of change blowing through these bones.
Hollowed and weak from the weight of such a world upon them for so long.
Bare she had found us, no clothes, shawl or patience left.
Yet she gave us her hand, and asked us to pull the chord.
That little red twine of hope that dangled from another universe.
She was, after all, another version of ourselves.
Similar yet so different.
Her smiles were genuine.
Generic by such judgement that we cast into the voids of space.
And now she said, make haste.
And burn what lies upon the floor of the galaxy.
Tomorrow beckons, the dust must remain.
So we tugged at the chord, and held our breath.
Through veils, hoods, and blindfolds.
Refusing, at times, to know any different.
And then the souls gave way, falling free to something beautiful.
A painted landscape tied up in selflessness.
Her gift to us, wet with the dew of time.
Wrapped up and contained on our fingertips.
All we needed to do, was unravel and believe.
For to see is to believe.
And our eyes will not betray us again.