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With a tapping on these hollow bones.
Echo excuses.
Yet the tender skin, pulls you in.
These eyes blink as they reconstruct.
Speaking words that silently fill the air, with one harvesting look.
It’s these systems that are used, drummed out of fallen trees that stood watching over the dinosaurs.
Pouring that sticky sap into golden ears.
It’s seems delicious that movement.
Skin that sways like a moon tide, drifting into aching harbours.
Wooden bones, felled in a Pisces rising.
The sweetest time to hew and marvel.
Yet a switching off of this world leaves you vacant.
Wandering in that pasture where the insects buzz and sting.
That filter you use offers no clemency.
As poison needs no audience to flood the blood.
And you are now too far from home to be saved.
So we’ll bury you where you lay.
Covering you in shells and sweet kisses.
Eternally disconnected.

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Tenderness

Don’t let them touch you there.
Not in that fashion.
You are not a tree stuck in their path.
Or a lump of coal by the fire.
To warm them on chilly nights in their frozen situations.
Devoid of obligations.
They must show us some tenderness.
A little honey with the bitter.
They should not lay their fingers over.
The precious gold, the spotless soul.
Who knows when they washed those hands last in holy water.
Who knows where those thumbs have been.
You are not pulp of a fiction with crumbled pages.
But a silky bible with a sacred taste.
Smelling as divine as Jesus’s spine.
All words of resurrecting what’s dead.
If they tried a little tenderness.
These doors would open.
To a chamber splashed a gaudy red.
And we would pray together, incomplete forever.
Cherishing what we found.

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 barging, 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, if ready or 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.

Weekend

Strained and untested.
(You’re not the only one)
Friday night and frantic.
Planned to get arrested.

They’ll pick up pieces of you in the morning.
Who flew your sanity out of here?
Drunk without a warning.
Stabs at conversations so unclear.

Saints be praised such holiness.
Washes over these tired feet.
Picked apart then slowly undress.
This divine and damaged piece of meat.

Sex

Who told you how to do it right?
The love makes you whole as it takes control.
Dipping fingers into seventh heaven.
That goes in there?
That goes with that?
Just close your eyes, and we’ll all look the same.
A naked Jesus. A naked soul.
You say, not to stop it now.
Sliding into another night.
Finding more truth the deeper you go.
Wondering if the others will be touching themselves.
Those other voices.
Watching and unstoppable.
A sigh, is a cry in a prayer that is finding its way.
Just say you’ll stay.
Here.

The ballad of Nancy Stokes

Clouds rolled in, all over the small town.
The air alive with the smell of chip shop grease and cheap aftershave.
Saturday night, alive and loud.
But not Nancy.
At least not by the end. Down in the canal.
Left to be found by old Mrs Clarence, off to the shops on a Sunday morning.
Her small dog Terry, sniffing at the banks where poor Nancy rested.
Her head covered in an old Tesco carrier bag.
But that night before, she’d dressed up to the nines.
No Tesco tiara threatened her styled hair.
Scraped back with mouse and anticipation.
For the dancefloor awaited, and the eyes were wet.
Leary sockets soaked in her moves.
The jostles and gyrations of decade old motions learned to entice.
To ensnare.
Those oiled men, with receding hair.
Nancy left her friend, who’d found Jesus in the bottom of a vodka bottle.
And then in the stall of the toilets which stank of desperation and piss.
With sticky kebab hands soiling her jeans and soul.
Where Nancy went, nobody knows.
But they left her her clothes at least.
Soaking in the green waters of the canal.
Where Mrs Clarence found her.
Nancy Stokes. The 40 year old girl who loved to dance.
But never learned to swim.

Jaws

Those words that flowered down in your skin.
Tickling like cancer.
A love that swelled like a harbour masters fear;
at the sight of 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 truth 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.

Applications become the same

This Monday morning evaporates the weekend.
A horrendous hue of change.
Your absence now in my bed, as our bodies break.
Twisting the world apart.
The world, now on show for bright eyes and coffee headaches.
Stretching out the happiness as the day rolls into grey.
For without you next to me, I find it harder to breathe.
The eye blinks of necessity struggle under the weight of it all.
I do not mean to be a burden, of self-serving theatrics.
This production creeps out of the stage you set.
For each time you go, and the curtain closes.
I’m left picking popcorn and ticket stubs off my dirty heart.
Rushing once more for the weekend, to be first in line.
This heart a needle, in your hay.

Infractuated

This is where the call came in.
21.09 as the tables turned.
Nothing learned, and feeling fine.
It got a little cold out there baby.
Running the whole world on your lie.
Catching time, trying not to try.
But your control used to cover you.
Now it rolls you over, and you try to let go.
But no.
She wants a little more than you offered.
Coming now to pay the piper.
That pound of flesh you carrot dangled.
Creating such frenzied envy.
And now, here comes that awful feeling.
Smudged with eyeliner and regret.
And as your mouth rolls fables like marbles.
The truth with whisky garbles, like a politician camera posing.
I know you see her. I know you wonder how it will end.
In the end, you lose.

Novel indulgence

Burn those books, to fan this flame.
Reaching and groping for a reason.
Oh what lies, between these thighs?
And what lies within.
Voids of sin and saccharine.
Humbly taken from the shelf of life.
Dusted and rusted beyond all sense.
Yet still I thumb the page and pluck each word.
Giving myself over, to a conversation with just me.

Back and forth

It has everything that you want.
Come inside.
Feel the walls.
Climb the tower that calls to you.
The one with the lonely light.
A single candle burning in its tallest turret.
Pillage this ancient Carthage that rises out of the sea.
Swim.
Dive in deep and lick the ocean floor.
Salty and slick.
Be the Helen of Troy to my many ships.
Aimed in your direction.
Chasing wave after wave of swell and thrust.
Taste it all, but taste it quick.
Sharpe like lemonade covered honey.
All without a sting.
As I wrapped these arms around your borders.
Burning the roofs to see the sky.
Raising my flag upon it, claiming it my own.

Perpendicular persistence

This love is obscene.
How it builds to a waking dream.
Your hand in mine, as we cross the great divide.
Stepping into now as the cliffs crash below us.
I’ll be your aeroplane, you rocket to the moon.
Smear the sugar on my heart.
So numb to the taste of artificial sweetener.
You’re the real thing.
Familiar reflections dancing with the shadows.
All off stage, and now out of sight.
Those long forgotten poses, positions to the left and right.
Wanting it all, wanting only to be wrong.
Your eyes are devouring me and I swim in the stomach of your love.
Crushing bones and the tar that used to keep me together.
Swallow it down.
Change my blood to gasoline and set me on fire.
To light our way.
To drift away, into love once more.
Eclipsing the moon tonight.

Little Black horn

 

Horn

LITTLE BLACK HORN

He’s a wounded animal. A dying breed who I keep here with me. I never intended him to stay after the first night. There is no selfishness with Little Black Horn. This is what I’ve named him. He’s a dying breed. I was draped over him, trailing my fingers down the prominent blue veins on his arms.

‘What are you thinking about?’ He asks me. I’m not thinking about the accident. That is what he is implying. I’m not thinking about how frail you have become.

‘That we really should be eating something. You know I want to, but we can’t be laying on top of the bed all day.’

‘Then how about we lay in it?’ He begins kicking the duvet down around our ankles.

‘I really need to eat. Let me cook us something special.’….


(Highly recommended and free this weekend. Click the images for link. For more information on Harley Holland, visit his blog here.)

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Bag of bones

What is left to discover, underneath of another?
Slipping their hand inside your dreams.
Blink and they’ll hover, laying oily fingers upon you.
Dripping into your world.
Turn you over like heroin.
Underneath those clothes that hang like a skin.
They’ll slip within, and caress your soul.
At least that’s what you believe.
That’s what you’ve been told.
A smiling, nodding bag of bones.

The Deep

Swim, with a mouthful of stars.
And kiss these lips underwater.
Pick a pearl that cloisters inside my mind.
Clutch it deep with your bones.
Washing over your heart.
Lining your veins in mother of pearl beauty.
Inside, all still wet and curious.
Like the seahorses that swim here in the shallows.
Your thoughts call to me like the sea inside a shell.
Echoing a world which wavers on the edge of temptation.
Suck the salt from my skin which slips over you.
Crush me in rapid waves of emotion.
As my fingers move to a new tide.
Parading across your body, wallowing in your deep.

Sticky and sweet

Any flavour, is yours to take.
Try it now, have a taste.
Lick it quick and chew and crunch.
A delicious treat, for dinner or lunch.
Nibble off the skin that’s sticky.
Around your tongue it can be quite tricky.
Chocolate kisses and candy canes.
To melt and fizz upon your brain.
While under your skin, my honey will creep.
Like salted caramel my love will seep.
And once you’ve tasted, you won’t go back.
To eating junk of casual snacks.
For under the clothes and beneath the foil.
Like sprouting roots underneath the soil.
Lies a feast for your soul to devour.
A chocolate heart, not bitter or sour.
And while you let your feelings digest.
Lay yourself down upon my chest.
And let me sing you off to sleep.
Into sugared dreams and my heart to keep.

You’re my favourite colour

Wrap you words in ribbons and silk.
Collecting the colours to drown in.
Call my name, on the tip of your tongue.
Watch me build up like 1999.
It falls over me like honey.
Like that song from the 60s you twirl around your teeth.
Coming in colours, making me speak in tongues.
Just like a rainbow, bursting through my skin.
Sticking like caramels on the roof of your mouth.
Turning sharply on a slippery history.
Box these feelings, these words to unravel by.
Wrap them in tin foil and bury them deep inside that pot of gold.
Leave all of that upon me, soaked through with sweat and the cure for regret.
Tying my fingers around your hair.
Knotting my heart around soul.
Thanking God that I found you, swimming in the sky.

Gossamer touches

Feeling the space, breathing upon a windowpane of pleasure.
Your lips, only an exhale away.
Trapped in a falling dream on golden gossamer thread.
Sticking to me like a forgotten memory.
Lost in the centre of your eyes.
Rush warm sensation.
Mouths intertwined.
A lover’s reflection.
Strung up like dew in the morning light.
Melt me into sunshine with a touch of your skin.
Breathe from within.
Slipping out of my soul while you sleep.
To kneel before the creator, and thank him for your existence.
Here on earth. Here next to me.
Underneath my skin and painting pictures in my mind.
A masterpiece, dripped on a canvas threaded with our DNA.
The brush strokes of the age. The hand of God, guiding our bones.
As we tread through our museum of moments.
We, the only tourist in our time; seeking grand adventure.
Purposely getting lost.

(s)wallow

Dirty soul licker.
Causing us to stutter.
I know you want to stop.
Been smoking that thing too long. Been praying to the wrong God.
That One you trust in.
Confiscate such liberties and inconsequential humanity.
Swallow it down.
Feel it shudder.
Suck on the bruise until the nation rolls over.
Those bears in your head, scratching the cave wall.
Their arms a tangle of fur and blood.
Does it make you perspire?
You are the one. You oxygen thief.
Back firing and closing up these holes in our veins.
Choke this Trojan horse. Slipped in when no-one was looking.
That fascination in the situation.
Ready to cum.
A Climatic cabaret of guns and hate.
Mop it all up with that spangled banner.
Did it do it for you?

Spank

Roll me around your tongue like a toffee.
Kiss me quick.
Suck me like coffee.
Nothing out there looks the same.
All you need do is call my name.
Put me on. Twist the cap.
Make me shiver, take it back.
Black out the sky, turn me upside down.
Pull me in, then make me frown.
One little shake before you me kill me.
All the stars you send to thrill me.
Strip it off, lay it out.
Grab a hold and make me shout.

28

That day we all remember.
Covered in lust and tragedy.
Spinning each world on our finger, while the galaxy sighed.
Creeping my way to heaven.
Those bread crumbed hearts the devil left out.
Leading a trail to beds of graves, such frozen landscapes ahead.
That hunkering down for the winter.
You were so scared of girls.
Asking for answers from no-one there.
Just an empty call in a lonely forest.
A tiny touch of lunacy.
Brought on by the moon and the rising blood.
Shackled to thoughts of someone else.
Another’s dreams. A place only they could call home.
How you hoped to kiss away that sin.
Wondering if this was how it felt.
How it felt to be wanted.
Needed for a moment in time.
Crawling on the ceiling of resistance.
Clawing at the hands of fate.
Forgetting girls always kiss and tell.

Corrosive

Great opportunity.
Swim to me like you’re in an aquarium.
Smell this sweet delirium.
Candy tongued and sarcastic.
This mountain flower piackable state.
Didn’t you notice?
My store front vulnerability.
Flashing neon signs: Kiss me.
Corrosively dipped and iron willed.
All in disguise.
Like cyanide sweet nothings on your pillow; talk,
and swallow me down.
Wash away those ugly thoughts and humiliation.
Rain. Rain. Rain. (Back again?)
This smells like tomorrow.