Sunday, 19 December 2010

Winter Showers

Drip drip drop
Water tumbles off the crumbling towers made of ice,
The fresh columns of snow washed away by rays of sunshine.
The forests on the hills indecisively buzz between grayscale and sepia
With the setting sun, the floating night waiting to pounce.
Trapped under the snow are leaves as red as the sky,
Thick furry clumps of grass clawing their way to the surface.
And although I can't capture the tap of reluctant water on snow,
I can say a warm goodbye and watch it go.

Friday, 17 December 2010

The Glass Eyes

We are the fabulous retards, living in a white dream.
The flirtatious clouds flutter with gay abandon
Between your bedroom window and my starry eyes.

We are blind to disastrous explosions of war.
They explode like confetti and carelessly collide
Behind our ignorant lazy lids and luscious lashes.

We spread each other's ashes around the prairie.
Each of our fingertips burn with each flick
Of the other's memory, the lives we loved and lost.

We dance around the fragrant lonely funeral pyre.
Civilization knocks around the empty universes between
Our ears, and compassion is another lie to caring about
Any thing but the comfort of the glass eyes.

Sunday, 12 December 2010

False Hope

Orange laps at the gold-plated stand, cautiously.
It seems to have repeated an unnecessary swim to shore.
The moment when land appears in the mind's eye,
Mirrors the beaches of a memory, dream or wish.
Then, hesitantly and awfully regrettably it ducks underwater.
Rather sleep with the fishes then look at me.
Fire laps around the logs like a frivolous sea.

The Beggar And The Queen

Hot math, true it ain't easy to do
Doesn't define the rules between beggars and queens.
Living on a dream, does my poor penalties fly 
Out the window- never to be heard only to be seen.
It could be the one small step for
Man, smaller thought for decadent diamonds in the
Rough. Smooth but dusty with aged ignorance.
High as the crow flies it's one less aged goodbye.
There be a mountain on the sea,
And the prospect to great for mighty tramp or royalty.
As the pennies count down i see lust in their eye,
Clasp the other's golden thigh decency is just another penny.
And do the creeping vines bind? 
Satisfy your mind, feast on just their soul captured in
A soup bowl. And no, no love could be true.
Its another act far too easy to do.


Sunday, 5 December 2010

Hardly Hercules

You, are impossible.

Just a ball of black mass and the messy tangle of the threads of life.
Such an ordinary mystery it's hard to believe your not imaginary.
And although i'm hardly swept off my feet you could rival a thousand
Racing winds, could you melt the icy ridges climbing the mountains?

There is humor in the failure, and a softly stroked sun too young.
Dawn frames your mind, not the waiting kind or patient kind either.
And without a healthy skip of a fragile organ away, blood drips and
Dips into the crevices and caves of  the caverns in you're homely heart.

If a star exploded there it would flake and die, captured in your eye.
I doubt charity crosses the empty eternities between mind and fire.
And although the rumbles of the rocks and boulders fall on your
Shoulders, the enormity won't let you lie yet, neither will my fantasies.

You, are impossible

Fatal

Given a year of mistaken fumbling and wrong feet taking the left
Fork instead of the right, should give me two to buy at least one
Shoe.
So take a birch branch away and swat the moon away, try to
prevent it sinking into another untimely day. I doubt I've learnt to
Learn.
When a foot digs crusty and ready down unfurling curls and clods
of mud, weeping waterfalls jump off a side of earth. Dreams of a
Bird-
I followed a fanciful fall with each thump of it's heart and teetering
compulsion to glorify and magnify. Surely if mistakes where made
Again.
The eternity folds rapidly, unchanging. One tree is two I'll give up
My shoe for a slice of the action, I'll remember this time, heart
Attacks are bad.
Thank God it's fatal, I was never one to do things half-heartedly.

Tuesday, 30 November 2010

A Forgotten Thursday Ago

Keeping little dreams cradled and cotton wolled under my bonnet,
Creeping fear of the baby- green romantic Queen inside my obsessive mind.

There's a heart there, burried under a consistancy of feining sanity.
It's just small, unprompted and expectant, even a little hesitant.

Should it cry at each sun's wake and fall, declare it all and confess my erratic
Sins, I'm doomed to clean up a thousand forgotton love songs.

Another improptu fantasy I would die for,
Or a naked lie to live a little for. So rest your beating, you're a failure now.

Be glad smiling's no chore and the hum of love leaves your imagination sore.
Theres a letter or few waiting for you, no longer fast and just thrive.

One Week Of Childhood

Frozen folds are unyielding, still pretty young and new.
I'm only ten feet away from tomorrow's daybreak,
The sun will cake my skin with wrinkles and masses.
Cram one memory or two into a tomato soup can,
It's that time of year for church and skipping ropes;
Another chance that hopes.

The untimley flakes will just be forgotton again, then
Unveild fom the back of time, hidden in a carpet bag
In the boot. Like uneventful caves of fame and praise
Will the innocence pass me so unwilling by tonight?
Just slipping out for a drink and fall silently out of
Reach of the wrong or right.

I can imagine the stumble, casual out of chaotic mind.
It's time, to see the awaited blind. Should the bark
Crack and the voice dissintergrate, it would follow me
Down the open road. So when the moment comes to
Pass, at last, I'll die quietly and wallow alone. Lift the bag
Off my head and be gone.

Narcissus

I am Narcissus, hear me roar
Pity my face, strapped to a cold flaccid floor.
Clean and sweeping like the plain white petals,
The contours of my skin
My arms and legs, one elbow one shin.
This beauty could surpass my sin through
Echos of adornment, that merely once was.

Moving silence through unsanitary waves
That woman caves, and that woman too
Hails more, she prays to divinity for me.
I am blessed like an arrow on the cry of
War, smooth and uncertain, unattainable
To my mortals. They sing me to sleep.
It's their poison that enchanted my eyes
To close, my heart to shrink, my roots to grow.

Sunday, 28 November 2010

Only Lies Remember You.

Bathed in true pink and blue, are the
Coral sprouts of forests and frosted fields.
Thick thatches of rain are frozen in time,
along the 13 bus route- transposing every
Day upon each other, stacked and hardly
Special.

Soggy silver clouds are prodded by a
Blinding sun, not just orange but glowing
Gem of one. It's bent back supported by
Occasional street lamps, tall and lingering,
Imposing the social vigil. My craned neck
Unbelieving.

There's not a pretty boy alive nor a single
Eagle soaring that could draw a single eye.
No stars or nebula, or revelation of the
Moon, that could rival the sunset show. A
waiting audience, for the end. Always the
End.

Naked pupils like the days and years ago
We were born. Just like the days we'll be
Stupefied and torn between Heaven and
Earth. Buried alive, the sun still burning our
Eyes like no one else will ever know. Like
Lies.

Could other eyes ever see me when I was
Three, the enormity of another life ignored
And another sunset forgotten. Because
Bath was never drenched with snow near
December. Because no one else could
Remember.

So undecided and captured by another
Ball of burning anger, how dare they hurt
You and rain on your parade. Were only
Human, and your relentless strides hurt us
Too. It's your fault we die, fade, forget
You.

Monday, 22 November 2010

Castle Walls

The rough edges are just folded into
My pockets, save them for another day.
The hankie is busy being thrown away.
I tick tock through each hour, with
Each step and breath. Each beat of
Each heart, every stop and regretful
Start. And so when the leaves stem
Away from me, bloom and fall free,
over time could I take what is mine?
Pink and red, blue and green, hide
Them under a blindfold, stored far far
Away. Will it awlays be, me against me?

13th Hour

For Sam Whitfield, on his 13th birthday

He was just a grain of sand at the bottom of the sea
Tireless and relentless, paralyzed and only helpless.
Midnight strikes, here swims another wish out of a
Dream. Playing a divinity shouldn't be up to me.

He was curled into a nutshell, our pistachio bean
Clean and unblemished, ready to dig claws into the
Earth. With a fumble of toes and fingers and nails,
Could you cling onto her breast and hair for eternity?

His running heartbeat couldn't keep up with his
Mind. There was so much to see and not enough
Humanity to capture it all, just blink, flake away our
Efforts and expectations. His greatest hour is upon him yet.

Monday, 15 November 2010

χάος

Inevitability flew like the big black bulbous cloud you are,
Beyond my ability to stretch and capture you in a bell jar.
Should we cement you to reality or embody you to our eye?
Build you with stones and our wasted bones, because
Your roaming mysteries are the reason for our bodies.

Slip and slide through our clumsy fingers, the fun is in the
Chase and all we ever do is run after you. Try to tail your
Teasing whispers, do we hold on for dear life or let you be?
When you're unveiled and naked in our glory, doubtful of
You're purpose just like me, shall we leave our origin to inevitability?

Friday, 12 November 2010

Sabotage

Trapped between the wall and the bedspread for fear
Of being pulled under, already painted a faded green
As my heart beats itself black and blue.

If I peer through the spyglass to waters murky, unclear,
The folds will crest show the slimy creatures in between
My skin, bones, heart and soul too.

Crusted collapsing figures retreat from my feet, dear
Your ghosts and goulies have wiped my faces clean
So no other man will know where I hail, where I've been.



Thursday, 11 November 2010

Matinée

Stuck under the spotlight of my grandfather clock dial,
If the world is a stage then i'm just a prop, a tool, until
We all stop. Then I take center stage, the monsters under
The bed are mine, intrigued. What could this creature be?

One foot and two lost all feeling forever ago, so no care
For feeling cold. I'm blind and my fingers are blue, clean
Like the hitched mask of comedy upon shimmering skin.
Like the mask of tragedy still behind every walking whim.

Every friend frozen in every memory can see, trapped in
headlights. The darkness too obscene for my audience and me;
Featherweight champ of dancing in the dark, dressed up
In apathy and a hazy cotton dew. My living dead state
Foxtrot with my Jew, the other vivid nightmares join in too.

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

The Ukelele and the Apple Tree

Juicy knotted antlers curl from his forehead,
Ruffling his black entities and blowing them
Away with autumn leaves.
So there we where amongst the trees, playing ukuleles.

The silvery bellows escaping, swimming
Through tender oceanic hues. A kerfuffle
Of lacy fire in a brick box.
Sight held blind and captive for a moment, like martyr-vision.

Saint Thomas hung upon the tree listening
So carefully to fainting falls of sacrificing stars.
Capsuled in a wooden box,
Wrapped up in string and red paint from my lips, cold recollections.

Back in the tent with a fractured thumb or
forsaken fingers, lost without a compass true.
That's my hip,
Skin and bones, pawed at my petticoat in a hurried haze, laid

Down on the luscious green carpet. Back to God
Staring at a blank pallet, ours to create or destroy.
Because despite my heartfelt fists
If it is not known, it no longer exists.

Thursday, 28 October 2010

Princess Di

Could I have ever been like you,
When the world was peachy pink
A flustered kind of hue?
Well understanding is overrated
And just to know you would
Have made my heart elated

I spent a decade in the dark,
And another hanging in confusing
Whispered shades of grey.
It was hard to comprehend your
Existence, neither imaginary nor
Real until I saw your body

Splayed across the telly screen.
Flashes of light expose your face,
Your blonde hair, like some kind
Of criminal or queen. Your death
Performed for me in a movie scene.
Your life no longer a state of mind.

So can you blame me when all I had was a pale picture frame?
Tucked out of reach and wrapped in dust, like the tissue paper
Hiding a wedding present.

Monday, 18 October 2010

Our Labours

I can’t communicate to you in my mother tongue
I can’t prise open your eyes and make you see
I’m your child not your mother, a sister not a brother

A bumbling bee with nothing to do but write poetry;
I’ve cherry-picked your lips, your taste in music
But left you your tongue, your profanity to shout at the TV.

We could have been Hera and Heracles, minus the eyes
As under the violet sky I’m neither colour-blind nor mad,
Just as thoughtful as you Dad.

Thursday, 14 October 2010

Capsulated

A silent jade waterfall slaps upon the pavement, dragging wedding trumpets in its wake.
Like listening to Nina Simone under drowsy lights and slogging my feet in romantic circles.
Like the rattle of pubescent voices dancing on the pages of my book in a public plastic cart.
Like getting stuck in the sand at the seaside and rolling in and out of the rusty copper ocean.
The crawling creepers drip into the cracks in the walls, searching for hidden jewels or gold.
Like an unprepared disposition of an unintended kiss you couldn’t stop, but don’t even care.
Like running along the sunset and waiting for the stars to blind your senses beyond awestruck.
Like walking with a cat’s back and jumping with her dainty ready paws to fly away from home.

3AM

Thick, thumping whirpools, glowing and fizzing deep purples into life. 
Rocking lullabuyes into sleep, swimming in front of my eyes and ears.


A wide eyed cyclops staring at a freckled sky. Gravity reppeling, 
Stuck to the celing with impossible glue, the meat on my skin attracted too.


Delicately dangling, picked fresh by hot headed fingers and hung over a caldron, 
boiling and leaving fragile frosts upon the fields. Chilling our bones into monster's meals.


Covert lappnig gold and amathysts, sapphires bound for shoreline horizons.
Crest and fall, envelop theese hills and peel my body away from it all.


Pinned in the heart, stark and frozen, Naked and empty, bleak and lonely.
Charity and chastitry binding poor limbs and numb skulls, stupid and petrified. 


Dumb as we lie, dead 'till we die.

The Victim

In a Forest Green tux and a blue pinstriped shirt,
A golfing tie, not a grey hair to the eye.
Watching his back with mutterings and apologies,
Cradling his back with desperations and longing profanities .
Nervous, who can blame him?
A yawning sun hitched on the back of his head,
And no doubt the Mrs is at home, making the bed.
Waiting for the breadwinner to return to the throne,
Contemplating the lingering, sour smell of defeat.

Sunday, 10 October 2010

How Reminiscent

How reminiscent, electric fires in pouring rain.
Growing vines up creaking walls, like a pumping vein.
And if only the embers could shiver these timbers,
Then this house would never be lonely again.

The dead furs and forgotten flowers rising, walking.
Undisturbed shadows of whispers, can’t stop talking.
Just rest one step and be cocooned in a cradle of mud,
And clay, be dragged downwards and melting.

Whipped by the rip tide, and squashed by trees.
The fellow stranger is attacked by honey leaves.
Wrapped in bark, all but crooning and weeping
The willow tree bravely embarks for the seas.

The burning amber, scarlet to envy cold blame.
The sky smothered in violet like an accidental ink stain.
Harboring glassy eyes and dancing on carpet- soft
Grass, eyeing the horses, you’ll forget why you came.




Thursday, 23 September 2010

Beauty and the Beast

Once upon a time, upon a hill far, far away
So high up you’re euphoric from the suffocation
And the cities are just the embers left from hormonal love.
Say, stay and be complete, even if it’s not forever and ever.

Coral skies are set in stone, falling petal by petal,
Heavy and grounding, pinning your arms to his chest.
The rose tinted- glass can’t deny, I, was repulsed.
But dragged by raked finger nails along my thigh.

Castrated in black and blue and golden, holy white ribbons.
Navy blue cloaks wrapped around my ankles,
And blinding stars babbling of everlasting love that’s
Reachable, achievable. Surely that’s inconceivable?

A crippled flower flake hits the floor and I guess
The hairs on your face are the scars on your back.
The flesh on your bones is similar to mine,
Monster or man? Let the love decide.



The Cage

Oh for all the rings hooked into your heart, the key hangs on none of them

Pain and fray, will it wither back into a dream? Frail as the baby’s stunted heartbeat

Cry, cry my babe and fold your hands into my lap, bow your head and cry

Freedom is a bitter word, folding my eyelids upon flaccid milk fat skin

Anything to be trapped and happy, make it okay to cry because one more boy was scooped up in a tissue and thrown in the bin, please.

Monday, 20 September 2010

Charmers

Kissing games wrung around your neck
Heck, don’t you ever stop?
And clearly sacrifice is a very small price,
Just too see a special girl smile.
And friendship is just a milestone,
On a road away from your childhood home.
Broken hearts are highly strung,
Upon a glittering thread around your throat.
Collected, perched on your collarbone.
Magpie.

Hit the road Jack, and don’t you come back no more.

The Silent City


Oh my matted fur
Crawling, slumped and humped and bulging
Grasping for an overhanging ledge
Catching the whisper of a scuttle

Muffled moss hills, blinded by the light
And as cars quickly graze
The rain can't touch me
Can't hear me
Can't see me
Doesn't want to be me
But embraces my feet
I'll meet you again one day

My School's Cherry Blossom Tree

Down the steps
One, two, three
Dying blossoms dangle from the arms
Of my school's cherry blossom tree.
Grey smudges circle
The harbored council estate
Cooing, calling, falling and flying.
Petals;
The shade of my youth's blushing cheeks
Plummet to the ground like butterflies,
Sliding on the wind.
The fingers of flowers stroke my hair
Hold my hand
And lead me out of the school gates
Out of their reach
And back into reality.

Honestly

Honestly, we're almost there
one first kiss and tangled hair
away.
Honestly, we're oh so close
your hand slides in mine
and we're almost there.
Slip of the tougne
The things i'll never say
because i know they'll
will scare you away.
My frightened faun,
let's run
into the dawn.

Greatness

Where would we be without not North, South, East nor the best vest you wear on your wedding day?

If the sun exploded who would notice first
Who notices the sun behind those hooded lids?

Inside that hooded dress and best vest you wear on your wedding day.

The brooding lids plotting revenge and plotting your downfall and plotting and plotting and nothing but potting and plotting the waterfalls on my Earth like a rambling man for a six week scan upon a hospital bed

And at the table’s head,
Wearing the best vest that you will wear on your wedding day, to her wedding day. Your greatness shines too high too bright to attempt contemplating taking off the vest, and saving it for another day. For my wedding day

Too much too soon and moving as swiftly as the moon your grey hairs will turn and retreat to the other side of the earth. Stumbling on the waterfalls.

And before you know it, it’s too late.

Friday The Fourteenth

Your cheek, indecisive on mine
My heart anchored to a different time
The gray window sleeps upon the sill
That I watched you from
Quiet and still,
When hope dripped, slipped to the floor
Neither one dreamt of something more
Like the retreating, angry, silent sea
The fickle love did not care for me
And when God's reign began to fall
The intuitive weather said it all
Our hearts anchored to a different time
But silly romance thought you could be mine.

Creeping

Hooded back and skull capped jeans and a gay hairdo and skinny jeans and black hair dye and black tee shirts and black nail polish but what colour could you possibly be?

Hooded back, hunched back to show a skinny waist and a shy concave chest not built of muscle but a hoard of gold and a ruby heart trapped inside Davy Jones’s locker.

But they want you to cut your arms and smash your skull and bury your skull capped jeans and die young and old in the head, sick in the head thank God he’s dead but at least his music still sells. Thank God.

Somewhere, elsewhere I see the red tape fluttering, curling and creeping around the large ant hill. It stops and waits for me to write what I cannot express with words some kind of greatness or some cry for help.

And the hammering in the hedgerow is the only reminder that I know that those warm large hands can’t disband me.

The Aryan Eye

Oh you, smothered in blue
The fairer sex isn’t just, for you.
Rolling and reeling underneath the Aryan eye.
The law bore a hole in your heart.
Glacial skies trapped inside an ice cube,
Dwindling, sinking
Covered in red, red wine and smashed in glass.
Smuggled under his heart
Cross it and hope to die,
Trapped inside the Aryan eye.

The Past

The past,
Can be just as scary as the future.
Dreams and ignorance are running away with a flock of fleeting angels,
Burning the sky, scorching the clouds
Torching the pages of my diary.

I’m scared (I’ll admit)
That every yesterday could be every tomorrow,
Again and again and again.
Drop please, one by one
A feathery storm overseeing every tortured second
Every stressed moment of my nightmares.
Of my memories.

Oh to fly away, and wipe the surface to clean the slate.
Blast my brain with sand and snow, cool the itching.
The past (I’ll admit),
Can be just as scary,
As listening to that song again.

Sunday, 19 September 2010

Poem Twenty-Four Six

Obtuse hips, say no more.
Walking collateral damage.
Turning and twisting around some alien orchid, a love that’s too untrue with gutsy attitude
And a hay barn stored askew the underground sewers,
Hiding, undeterred.

Solid bones, weeping for joy.
Sleeping faint weariness.
A gaping hole wholly fulfilled with triumph, empty of fulfilment and stroked by true love
Touching the boundaries quietly disbelieving,
That this could be happening. 

Such a lonely boy.
A lonesome limpet.
Love is a battery canister below his belt, and an energy is pulsating through my navel
Through my hips through my heart,
Lightening navigating a labyrinth.


Bambi

Bambi, fornicated from frustrated frets and triangles and drums and bass cycles.
Tap,
Tap,
Tapping at my nerves and
Knock,
Knock,
 Knocking at my conscience.

Bambi, big and engulfing the skies, inhaling my cigarette smoke.
Smoking eyes,
Smoking lies,
Puff, puff, puff away, blow away contraceptive tribulations
Revelations spinning around my fingers.
Slipping and gripping his
Beer bottle, his eyes
Bambi
Bambi
Bambi eyes

Brown and sinking, shaking fidelity crucifying a helpless soul.
Godspeed, angel
Falling into a deep bottomless hole.

Saturday, 4 September 2010

Stalagmites


Funny how things come and go and the overwhelming feelings ebb and flow

Slow and seeping my mind is weeping for just a wink a kiss or maybe my hand pressed to your back
Silky smooth and the hardest bones, weathered by a lonely eternity without love

Run a finger up the caved in spine, a long stalagmite jagged and breaking under the weight of a heart that beats too much too fast, lives too hard too fast

Like your dad.

You’re a whimpering mess that pleads and suffocates me, as you tear at my ankle, and push my shivering spine to shake, quiver and beg

Needy,

How dare you turn me, unfurl me and uncurl me fear me as I fear you, vicious circles biting at my ankles
Tongue lolling and rolling over the bones, lick, lick, ick


Love's Young Dream

Each day i pray for lies and love i havn't commited,
Words that castrate and strangle my heart from my throat,
Cold forgotton fingers fighting for lovesick angst. 
I envy the word's worlds i create in my head, that each night i tuck into bed, and feed the hurgry leeches more with each longing glance at the-boy-sat-next-door.
With his rolled up sleeves and untouched jeans.
Heart and head pumping like machines,
I type and i type, fingers ache, write of heartbreak
The violent visions of wanting more
Love's young dream, like never before.