As the magic morning coffee beans take hold,
My thoughts turn into windows
That sprout like flowers or weeds
Across my screen until by lunch time
There’s sixteen or seventeen or eighteen
Links and tabs dividing me
Into minute long thoughts
That grab me for a second
Before being blown away
By a swish of fingers
On the trackpad
I can’t
Keep
Track.
Of…
Help.
I…
I need another coffee.

I fell in the sea
and it was made of love
And the love became the taste
Of saltwater on her neck
And she taught me to dive
With my eyes wide open
Looking through the water at the sun
Breaking the surface.

"It's like just like dying," she said.
And I heard "diving"
Because it was like diving
But it was also unlike diving
And so it didn't seem a silly thing to say
Though all the things she said
Like them fishes in a sea of love
Hooked by a line at night
That came out of a boat
And made us shure
That the unsaid things
Were both unsaid
Were silly.

I forgot my shoes.

We made love between the boats
Gently pulling ourselves along the rope
From one wine dark evening
To the sunlit morning below...

And even my lips
Remind me of her
Waking so close
Her eyes could touch mine
Nice dream
Like the lift of sunrise
Between us
And the need of nothing else
But these warm shivers and...

Blistering Barnacles!

I just fell in the sea
And it was made of love.

We all know the sound of a gun
If we haven't heard one,
We've heard one in the movies.

A staplegun
Snapped me back from daydreams
Of Matrix offices and warehouses
Hole-punched a Tarantino image
In my head.

I knew a man once who could read the trees
He'd stand in a field with nothing on
And look at them for hours
(He couldn't talk to flowers)
But he would pour over every branch
Trace every knot and feel their bark
He translated a sycamore for me once
But oaks and beeches were his favourite
He said he just preferred their type.
The elbow bends told him of seasons
The trunk's tilt told the prevailing winds
Their denseness in relation to their neighbours
Told him all manner of gossipy things.
The colours and the hues told of the soil
The moulds and lichens the local fashions
He'd tell you if they'd ever been frightened
By hippies, chainsaws, axes or lightening.
And as I looked on, I realised something
As I read his naked body with no clothes
This man was obviously a stark raving lunatic.

Pandas are rubbish
No doubt about it
All they ever do
Is sleep, eat and sit

It seems that the zoo
Is their native habitat
Sleep eat sit, sleep eat sit
Until they get fat

With their mickey mouse ears
And their love of mascara
Oh sure they make great toys
But so does a llama

You can't ride a Panda
You can't teach them to fetch
And where d'you buy bamboo
If you want one as a pet?

They're no good at mousing
They don't never forget
They don't even purr
They need help having sex

No, pandas are rubbish
There's no doubt in my mind
A less convincing carnivore
You're unlikely to find.

Lost in the land
Of pretending to be grand
Saving their conceit
For their nearest and dearest
Every malignant narcissist
Has two middle names:
One is "Abuser"
The other is "Slanderer"
And they live in the shadow
Of a deep, unbearable shame
That makes them shameless.

Here comes the sprung
Like a golden moon
A moment too late
Waves of meaning broke
Like a wheel's turned
A lesson spent
The rules were sand
Time stopped for no one
Like a golden sun
A moment too soon
Waves of meaning break
Like a wheel's spoke
A lesson learned
The rules were bent
Time stopped.
           And then returned.

The cold brought the snow
And the snow brought the ice
And the frosty town dwellers
And chilled out urbanites
Thawed out a little
With a raise of the eyes
An exhaled expression
A neighbourly - Y'alright?

A young woman
In unfriendly red
Comes cluttering
And skidding
Around the bend
I look up -
She pushes past
On her way to the station
But I have the last laugh -
It's closed, I almost shout
There's not even a sign
But if she manages to make it on heels
She'll find out in good time
Things move slower in the cold
And with good reason.

You bought me some good presents.
Some lasting presents.
A lasting presence,
Now that you are gone.

You always remarked on the light
And now when I see sunlight,
I think of you.

You took me to the beach,
Now when I see the beach,
I think of you.

You bought me a coffee machine
And every morning as I get my hit
I think of you.

Winter scarves and hats
Are wooly thoughts of you.

Smoking out the window -
Naughty thoughts of you.

Trying not to smoke -
A thought for you.

Marmite on toast -
I think of you.

A pretty girl -
Some other you.

A naked girl -
I try not to, but...

I think of you
So much more
Now you are gone
And I'm not sure
If I will ever
Not think of you
Again.

There's only one thing
That could stop these thoughts -
To be with... you again.

Just you.

You.

I’m going to spend more time with my parents
I was watching my dad last night
He’s really fucking rigorous about
Not dealing with negative emotion
I was watching him
It’s almost a joke amongst my sisters
That he goes into a dark mood inside himself
I was watching him by the computer
Seeing him as an aged child
Rather than as someone
Who has always been an adult
His head dipped slightly
And you could see him slightly
Think – ugh – I’m going to die
And he blinked to himself a moment
And then he was like, “Okey dokey,
Time to deal with Easyjet check in.”

I’ve got to give up smoking
Just to make my mum happy.

I can feel a warmth
Around your belly
Meaning mineness.

I bathed in a billionaire's bath
And the bubbles were soft as currency.

I am a metaphor
Is a metaphor
Is a statement
Is the truth.

When did you become
Part of the mess I left
Around our room
With your bed
And the portrait mirror
Hung a foot too low?

I told myself
it'd be all right
I'd pay it back
before you even noticed
it was gone
but I should have
known myself
better
I hate myself
My life's a mess
I'm overdrawn on friends
and can't dig myself out
of this hole called debt...

You gave me
all the tools I needed
To be free
And all I had to do was work
Honestly
But I didn't /And I will

Next time.

I soon got tired of
Getting up at the crack of
Three or four in the afternoon.

Well
After a while
A decade or two.

Drunk as a fish
In a bowl
With
No
air?

Bald as a cat
who has
fur but
No
hair?

Like some old-fashioned
Miracle that still goes on -
You were my first love.