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.