She was fire, I was water
And we made sweet condensation
The day, the month we met.
She turned me into steam,
Pure steam, in April, no less.
I quenched her raging thirst (I won’t forget)
We drank each other’s smoke
And sparked up *** and cokes
I took her fizz for fire
She took my ironic dampness for jokes.

At first,
All was elemental
And if she burned the bread I called it toast
And if water weighed her down we just got soaked
I did not try to put her out
She did not try to make me burn.

We’re not so different, said the fire,
One day to the water
I could see this month ignite,
Make a bonfire of our lives
We could sit there like a house on fire
Extinguished and set alight at the same time
I flowed around the idea and warmed to it
So I moved in and every day
I put the fire out that she had made
And every night she blazed
The oases that my love had made.
Until one evening Fire said,
While water brushed his teeth,
“Turn off the tap”.
And water, being fairly fluid in his actions
Did in fact for five years turn off that tap
In front of her at least, but behind her back…
I let it run,
                  let it go
                                 let it flow
                                                  flow
                                                      
                                                       flow
                
                                                        flow

                                                             !!!!

And it was not until the 1000th time
That something clicked
And the millioneth drip overflowed the empty sink
And I responded to her claim:
“We’re not so same.” I said.
She, understandably, had not consumed the context
As we’d just been talking about a friend in massive debt
Because of negative equity.
But now the tap was on,
“I’ll brush the teeth in this relationship
Or I’ll be ******!” Water flowed.
The tap was gushing now, the mirror fogged -
The drains were leaking back up out the bog
“For one thing, fire’s not a thing –
Me? I’m hydrogen and oxygen too
But you? You’re no thing, no thing at all.”
“What?” She said.
I couldn’t understand
How she didn’t understand.
I flowed right on down… right on down to land –
I was seeking earth, not fire, earth!
I’d been seeking earth all my life
And not realized until tonight – that night – tonight.
“And for a second thing – Fire’s so loud!
Crackling! Always with the constant crackle
Always eating, heating or causing hassle
Everything’s a hazard or an all-consuming passion
If we just kept calm, it could all be fine
But your fiery fingers always dialing 999.

“Right.” She said. “I see where you’re going here –
You’re saying I’m like fire – FIRE?!”
I said, Jeez we’re 3 pages in already,
I was hoping that much was clear.”
“FIRE?” She bellowed.
“Fire?” She scorched.
“******, he wrote.” I said.
“What are you talking about?” She asked.
“Just a poem I’m writing – it was a funny line, trust me.”
“Says Mr. Water?” She says, looking over my shoulder,
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“You might,” I say. “Anyway, Mr Water, what do you mean?”
“I don’t know, you wrote it, perhaps you can tell me.”
“You meant, by what I wrote, that water’s not known for jokes,
It’s too clear and see through to cause a face poke”
“And that’s the best water-related joke that you know?”
“No. But you just remember who is writing the poem.” I say,
Expecting a laugh.
No laugh.

Then she apologized and very humbly gave me the floor.
After (storming off upstairs and slamming the door and) pointing out
That all water does is sit around
And weigh things down
Making clothes darker and heavier
Surrounding everything with its slowly moulding love
And rather than consuming it up
Firing it up
Sparking it up
Burning and blazing ‘n
Combusting it up!
Water sits.
On what it loves
Which is down
And weighs it down with love
Envelopping it from sides and above
Surrounding it from five sides
And leaving only one way out for its victim –
Down.

I thought around it while she fried herself in perspiration
And I could see how she was not wrong
And I could see how she was not right
For I could see that I clearly was water
And I could see all sides – “I can see.” I said,
And should have left it there, “everyside of what you say –
I can see everything but your true… bottom.

Now when fire alights on bottom,
No thought can put it out
So we rejoin the action
An unspecified –but quite long- time later.
And when the steam settles,
Not much has changed.
The conversation resumes, Ground-hog style,
Ground-hog style, a year later, in a different flat.
“At least I have some substance!”
And again comes the tide I cannot hold back –
“At least I am a thing, I can be happy, I can be,
I’m not just a process, just an action, with an appetite for trees.
I’m not afraid of silence either.”
“Afraid of it? You saturate it!
You smother everything in silence
That’s why you like the snow –
I like the kind of weather that makes
Strangers take off all their clothes.
I like the crackle of the campfire
I like the chatter of friendly teeth in need of heat
I am ambitious, I need the next thing to consume
And yes I like being high and aiming higher –
With you it’s always down down down.
Sitting down,
Calming down,
Going down…
And when she said those magic words
I took the heat that I had heard
And channeled it like she could never do
Being a process and not a thing like me.
Channels are made of things directing process
I took her heat and channeled it
And all because
Those magic words
Going down.
No one likes a love that is damp she said
And so I made her fire wet
And all the while, during, after
We lay and drank in pools of laughter
We were liquid fire flowing
Every night the bed an ocean
The weather inside, hmm… snowing
Warm snowballs of love
Snowflakes of love
Snowflakes of fire
“Higher” She scorched, “ take me higher!”
“No you go down –“ I heard it spoken
And just like that the spell was broken.

I rippled, reflecting the ceiling for a while
In a silence even I could not contain
She processed the surroundings, the curtains, the rain
And burned them back to ash again.
An hour passed.
I was betting that she
Would internally combust
Before I drowned myself
To death in silence
Another hour passed
Slowly.
Ever so
Slowly. Not fast,
But slowly.

Then luckily,
12hrs passed in no time at all for me
In fact, I only awoke because my ears were burning me.
“Have you been asleep all this time?” they sizzled.
“Sorry,” I said, before I’d even had a chance
To remember the argument
And with that rather C-list magic word,
The matter was moderated, thirst quenched, problem passed.

Water sat there boiling.
Fire fumed there drenched.

“I’m not sure I can do this much longer.”
Said water to fire.
“I feel I am spreading myself too thinly on you.”

“You are.” Said fire.

“I don’t like being spread thin.
I see less of the world reflected
In my shrinking puddle.

“Light up my life again!” She burned.
“I can not.”
“Will not.”

“Will not is cannot.”

“Cannot is not will not.”


“Cannot is not will not does not make sense.”



“Does.”
“Does not.”
“Agree to differ?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”

“Stalemate.”

“What?”

­…

“You’re
  
         draining away from me.”

…

    
                                 smoke.”
                               in
“You’re going up


And with that, one morning, they both woke up.


Alone…

… a watercolour freshness
breezes through the open window.
The trees are stretching,
Shaking their sleeping dust dew
From their earthy leaves:
Nature’s man-made morning is
Apple-crunch crisp.

The bacon she bought
Fills the kitchen
With the smell of a morning
Done well.

But she's already left -
She drives three hours
Every day
To prove her career
Is worth pursuing

He's at home
Wondering if one day
She'll be bringing home the bacon
While he's keeping the house clean
And bringing up the children
Stocking cupboards with medicine
Looking after daily chores
Running back and forth
While she's bringing home the bacon,
She'll be bringing home the bacon.

Be your sweet 16?
Whatever do you mean?
You're twenty-nine,
Now's not the time
To celebrate your teens.

Yeah it is -
If fans are years
I'm only fifteen
(And a half!)
On here.

So now you *do know what I mean
Say you'll be my sweet sixteen?

Trying and failing to get to sleep -
I’ve never sailed before.
I've already tried counting fish
So I turn my thoughts to statistics
In the hope that they reassure:

The chances of dying on a yacht are
Absolutely minimal
(Unless you’re a millionaire).

So when the ocean swells and the boat rocks
I pray to the god of my holey socks
That danger is safely slipping by
On my port or starboard side
And the hungry old whale of fate
Has bigger fish to fry.

She painted my toe nails blue,
And said that they were magic now,
As long as the varnish stayed true,
Our love would be as blue and bright and never-ending
As when the sky stared at the sea
And forgot to blink.

-Opening-

Some things are part of you
And yet you have no control.
Certain memories and habits are -
And my sister was just so.

On the morning of the funeral
Mum gave me a mint, a polo
I ****** it for a while
And felt the ‘o’
Dissolving into a thin hoop
Of mint on my tongue.

And somewhere in there was the memory
Of other moments spent
******* the ‘o’s of meditation
Years, sometimes decades ago.

There was no narrative to these memories
Save me
And during those moments that narrative
Could not see itself,
Or the relative position of its parts,
But moments do not need narrative
To be complete
Like Bryony,
I’ve found life to be
Oftentimes bad for me,
Like confectionary
And cut flowers
Short and sweet.

-1-

Bryony is now a rose,
But once upon a time
She was a mischievous
Kink in a hose.

At Kingswood Drive,
Ben and Bry on the same side:
“Daniel – help us out! The water’s stopped-
Look down the end and check that it’s not blocked.”

At last! A chance to be of use!
The baby bursts with pride -
Just as the hose unkinks
And sprays him in the eye.

-2-

Bryony ran away from home
To join the circus known as Camden Town
A world of orphans with piercings
Selling t-shirts to clowns.

I didn’t understand it,
Neither did mum and dad.
But we went to visit once, me and mum,
I must have been about six,
Can’t remember much,
But it must have been a good night –
Always is –
When you end up in high heels and a dress.
I was her little manniken
In a whole world of fashion.

-3-

“Dan? Pass my bag there with the moisturising lotion.”
I do so, and by return of post –
A vague memory of a smoky blond from photos.
I always thought she would be a model
When we were growing up.

I didn’t tell her until recently
When she’d acquired the cheekbones for it
But now her skin rippled
With dry amusement
At the notion.

-4-

At the hospice they admired
Her strong will and determination
To join the dots
Of visitors
With a shaky stubborn line
From declining throne
To the swing seat
In the garden.

“They’re lovely here.” She said.
They were not trying to change her,
They were helping her accept.


-Ending-

An ending fitting for a start
A rhyme she made me
Learn by heart
My earliest memory of her
Playing pattercake
And saying:

Make up, make up
Never, never break up.
Make up, make up
Never, never break up.

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.

-10-
Regular Albert Whisker,
FE Squadron,
born 1939,
joined up at 18.

First time away from home and loving it, sir!

-9-
One day,
I’m just minding my own
at the airbase in Stranraer
when two officers appear
out of nowhere
and they ask
they ask if I’d fancy a long weekend?

Why not? I say.

Why not?

-8-
We’re staying at the Governor Clinton Hotel,
It's in New York.
Everything laid on.
Trip to Broadway and all.
Three whole days of paradise
All on the MOD.

-7-
Oh Gor Blimey!
What a sight when we stepped off the flight
onto Christmas Island for the first time.
Crushed white coral dust.

Like nothing I’d ever seen.

-6-
Our job is mainly to just do our job
which is mainly just military driving.
Land-rovers, lorries, tankers and that.
And avoiding the island ***** -
three times a day, they'd all crawl up the beach -
but they didn’t pay us for that.

-5-
Someone showed me their diary today
and it had a letter ‘H’ under today’s date.
So I’m working on the beach
when the tannoi sounds:

“Sit down and cover your eyes.
Testing will begin in five, four…”

-4-
And there was light.
A flash right through your skin and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard.
A flash.
Through your skin and bones and hands.
The biggest bang I’ve ever heard in all my life.

-3-
Then it was over.

Nothing much changed.

-2-
Except the mushroom cloud was there for quite a time.
And the Canberra bombers, the white ones, they flew through the cloud like little spores.

-1-
Then one day they just said “You’re done”
and we queued up to fly home to England.

Saw the new ones, the ‘moonies’, getting off the plane.
Sad to leave I was, yeah.
It was a good posting.
And nice weather, never rained,
Not rain at any rate.

Then, not long after, I was sent home for good.
They said I’d caught a cancer off a someone and
for me own good
I had to be discharged.

-0-
Sad really.

It was a good posting.

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 like to see the way you
like to lay in your books,
the class that borrows you
and lets you take it home.

life moves like a chess queen,
instantly
                  i pray
to hold you too tight some days.

they are -
and their presence
that shakes the air
was thick

with a bass

thump with the

breakbeat bump

into the kind of other skyness,

then suddenly
I was surrounded by razors
shaving off one breath at a time
a loom and singing wood winds over and
Something broke my grasp, running away
from these bad memories.

the young morning wind asked me for my name today

I whispered it was a secret.

Shrouded in secrets
The men from F-Branch
Recite the techniques
Undiscussed in advance
Of Democracy's dance
Democracy's dance
Democracy's Dance with Terror.

Outside the port of Umm-Qasr
Hundreds of men
Hooded in the dark
Of the midday sun
Kneeling on the run
From Democracy's Dance with Terror.

Suspected by students
Back home and online
Theories get conspired
Petitions get signed
"Stop Democracy's Dance!
Stop Democracy's Dance!
Stop Democracy's Dance with Terror!"

The attorney general
Is called for advice.
A solemn exchange
Top down bottom line.
His argument is
"If it's nice it's all right."

Ministers from Ministries
Are detained and questioned
By the goggles of a press
Suffering sleep deprivation.
It's like a game of touch rugby
Outside downing street
With a twist on the rules of 'Just a minute'.

And outside the port of Umm-Qasr
Democracy doggedly dances her dance.

But the rhythms of the dance
The stress of white noise
Peaked
And escaped on the wind
Blowing through the forgotten kindness
Of confused hearts and minds
Escaping through the drafty guilt
Of hung up uniforms
Dancing on the mumbling lips
Of sleeping soldiers
With wives, partners, families, friends
Back home
Who don't know what it's like
They don't understand the drill
They can't do the moves
They don't know what it's like.

But the dance did not stop
It did what every bad vibration does
And moved elsewhere
And was henceforth known
By an unpronounceable acronym:
JFIT!

And now we join James
Young musclebound man
With a drink in hand
Back from tour of duty
It's a Saturday night
And the Weston women like a soldier,
A real man.
The fact that he
Has been doing his duty.
"Do you mind if I ask..." Asked Deborah
Showing more than necessary of her bra
"Where was you based, your base in Iraq-
Your third base, in particular?"
"I'll tell you," Said James
And the ladies came quick
Putty in his hands
Just like a joystick.
Said James, with the gravitas
Or some silverscreen star,
"While out in Iraq,
I was stationed
At a British logistics base in Shaiba.
It's outside Basra.
Basra in Iraq.
Iraq?
You have heard of Iraq?"
But by then,
Deborah and her bra and her friends
Were talking to another group of men
Who worked in property development
And apparently, Deborah, they're neighbours
Or something, because that one said
They've got seventeen houses between them.

But what James hadn't told them is this
The exact meaning of words in English
Like British Logistics camp is
Not always what you think that it is.

Oh did I say camp?
I meant base.
Please delete any mention of camp
From the record.

It was not long before
That James' routine
Had been... very different
To say the least.

Indeed soon after crossing the border
And re-invading his parents' home again
He'd been watching Jeremy Vine when
He spotted a pattern of systematic abuse
On the curtains
Whenever he muted the telly.

James decided to get out of the house
And to help him get a grip
He decided to go shopping
But when he looked down at his list
It said:

59 hoodies
11 Electric plugs
52 Alarm clocks
122 pairs of earmuffs
160 torches
117 blackened goggles
132 stress positions
39 enforced nakednesses

And by this stage he realised
That perhaps he ought to see someone.
But instead of seeing a journalist
Or the Swedish King of wikileaks
He went and saw a military psychiatrist
Who charged him a lot to let him speak
On a one-off profit plus! contract
James ended asking the same question
Week after week -
Do you think I'm crazy?
What does all this mean?
The doctor replied:
"Of course you're not crazy,
It's just your mind is very ill,
I'll tell one part of it to ignore another part -
Here - take one of these little pills
They're only one pound ten each
And if you take one
Every three hours
Every day
For the rest of your life
(Or until you die,
Whichever is longer)
You'll be fine.

Meanwhile,
The dance continued to be taught
Like capoeira on a foreign-office team-building course
On the art of interrogation
The alpha-tango
Aimed at prisoners of war.
But the footsteps of karma
Where circling once more
And the base back at Shaiba
(Near Basra. In Iraq?)
Was once more withdrawn
This time to the airport
Along with other UK forces.

Now relatives of the victims
Both at home and abroad
And those most susceptible
To empathy's ill-considered force
Were planning to divert the dance -
Divert the Dance!
Divert the Dance
with Demo Dances,
Demo Dances!
Demo Dances!

Then it was the turn of the politicians
To work their magic of popular logisticians
By answering the questions no one has asked
Like are we human or are we just dancers?
We are just humans
Doing democracy's dance
Democracy's Dance
Democracy's dance with
(cough, cough).

And the news reporters
With their sleep-deprived goggles
Reported in such detail
As to make one's mind boggle
Each step, each move and each deliberate error
Of democracy's dance
Democracy's dance
Democracy's dance
With Terror.

(To be Continued... on the BBC)

Today I killed another of my lovers,
And drove to nowhere in particular
To taste the taste of air
When I am free.

I do it every few years -
It takes an hour or two until
I'm lost among the hills,
Then peace finds me...

Adults wear make up and try to hide it
Or at least they want people to see
Their best side, and think it’s really them.
Kids, on the other hand, or teens
Are not meant to wear make up
So that means they wear it...

Loud and proud!
Bright red lips!
A mascara sandwich -
With blue eye shadow sauce.
I’m stuffing my face with quick fit zit fix
Foundation, blemish remover
And a dab of blush.

See, I get a rush
When I see myself in mirrors
And don’t recognize myself for half a second
Think, ooh who’s that?
The teachers hate it
But it’s my face -
And face it - it’s my right
If I wanna change it.

I’m going to spend more time with my parents
I was watching my dad last night
He’s really ******* 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.

My father gathered tinder from outside
and left the fire burning
as he disappeared upstairs.
My mother said goodnight.

Her fleece followed her
like Charlie Brown
away and up to bed.

The  cheap green leather
where I sat
felt shiny and thin
and big enough for two.

My other half I imagined
tucked up and dreaming of me
wrapped as one
and breathing in her breath.

There’s something in the fire wood
side by side
two twigs have met
in flaming consumation.
All that remains is death.

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

My love I need my freedom
And it is yours to give -
Ay - there is the rub
And the short of it.

Little people of the world,
And particularly those
Who own big spaces
Right at the centre
Of our shared emptiness
It's time to go and have
A long hard think
About what you've done
And what you have become.

This growing debt
This planet's overdraft
Unlocked through lack of planning
Lack of vision - worse -
Through 'knowledge'
And selfish calculation.

Go to your rooms.

Don't come out until you're sorry.

She said the word frustrated like she meant it:

Sexually frustrated, she clarified

Her hobby was going down on strangers

You could ask her anything, she wouldn't lie.

I'm guessing there's a reason why she told me

And everything was working down below

But somehow now she'd dropped her little hint bomb

I decided that I'd rather take it slow

Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against *******

Or *** with strangers in nice restaurants

Or buxom beauties who wear too much make-up

I just don't trust girls who know just what I want.

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.

Her headphones,
A relic of the analogue age,
Create her mini world around her
As she
Autistically repeats the same phrase
Five hundred times on the piano's
Aching keys.

It didn't save last night.
Logic. Look it's gone.
Such a lot of stuff.
What was the point of all that then?
Are you sure you don't know how?

And the trains rumble past,
And the Shard keeps reaching up,
And the clouds keep keeping out
The sun from peeking through
From time to time -

And summer will PASS. US.  BY.
Quicker than the last time.
And we will wonder
With less surprise than last time.

"How old are you?" I ask.
"Guess!" she says and giggles.

Old enough to have a favourite brand of cider
And write poems about breaking up.
Old enough to say, "I don't do boys",
And hold Zoe's hair while Zoe's throwing up.
Old enough to wear a tu-tu in a half ironic way
And not rise to the bait, whatever chavie-di and chavie-dum might say.

We're dancing down the high street
Up the sunsplashed canal
Underneath the pirate bridge
It's like another town;
Camden's wearing make-up
Like a goth come out in Spring
The teens are taking over
And they're forcing us to sing
Bring yourself, bring a smile
Bring bring what you can bring
The teen's are taking over
And they're forcing us to sing.

"How old are you?" I ask.
Flirteen she says, and giggles.

Don't tell, but -
I missed my flight and...
And thought of you today.
That time when
You were working – a TV job...?
The details fade.

I was in the taxi
On my way
When suddenly the truth sank in –
I was not going to make it.

I almost called you
But I stopped myself -
You’d be at work,
I’d have to leave a message,
You’d call me back...

And the morale of the story
Would be - I am an idiot.
That’s all. An idiot.

I’m sorry and I feel stupid
And I want to call you now.

Now that I have
Something to confide
And no one to confide it in.

Nobody understands children
Or plays their games properly.
Nobody looks them in the eye
As equals
Or tells them a secret
In return for one of theirs
A real one.
No one cares what they think,
Just how they are, and what people think of them.
They do not exist.
Their opinion is not there.

It’s sad because
In many ways
They’re good at life
And in many ways
We’re not -
We take on too much,
Live unsustainably
And end up
Disappointing all round.

Oh well.

Julia exercised her power
Over the happy family’s
Holiday photo shoot at dinner.

To cage the moment
The adults sent a camera to either flank of
Her and her father.
She was suddenly reticent, shy, they thought.
Her face dancing away from the camera
While she monkey hugged her father
(For some more haribo).
But he would not give in, because he did not have them,
And everyone wanted a picture of them together,
The spotlight was on them now,
He was sweating in the glare of the media circus,
The pressure was mounting, no retreating now.

So when daddy said,
"Come on Julia, smile for the camera!"
She narrowed her eyes
And clung harder to his neck,
An all-encompassing embrace -
Not so much of love, but of
The only power she had –
To hide her
Face.

"What's up Julia?" Asked Dad.

"I'll smile for you if you want,
But I'm not smiling for the camera." She said.

I don’t like Marmite.
I’m going up on deck.
Don’t look. Don't Look. That’s why I said don’t look.
WAIT! Somebody! I have to go inside.
To find my glasses. My swimming glasses.
In the wonderful world of haribo.
Do you smoke? I don’t want you to die. Why? But why?
The purple ones are so sweet, did you know that?
A giant one came out! A giant one – two eggs!
In the game his eggs are like – that – big! He made two.
Is that friendliness?
I’m going crazy.
But dadDy!
My feet used to be – THIS - big.
I told you you had to use this.
Hey you! Come back with my slippers.
Put a glass with only ice, I want to make very very very cold water. ..

Two wires, living in a bag too long
Our lives got crossed and tangled
The days came out all wrong.

Tied ourselves in knots
Over the simplest things
Never forgave before we forgot
Anything.

It's like we knew all the words and we still didn't sing.
It's like we knew all the words and we still didn't sing.

Last night we talked instead
And words weaved their way
Like threads around each other
Into rope, at length
The hope and anchor
Between a future and the pasts
We did not share till now.
Moved together with the swell
Of gentle laughter
Cast out and overboard in faith
That a lifebelt given was a moment saved
From drowning.
Inadequately,
I thanked you for the chat
You disappeared down the hatch
And got a bout of earache
Shortly after that.

We head for home tomorrow.

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.

The phone rings
I can't tell which
Pocket is on fire.

I take it out
Already answered
Something is dangling

It is my father's tears
Whose common theme
Is death of fathers.

"Is it Basil?" I ask.
"It is."

The lines have been jammed
Very difficult today
Horrific violence from the voices
That are coming out

The brave people going out to protest
Randomly shot in the street
By snipers in buildings
And planes from above

They have no choice now
But to continue
I think the Libyan people
Now have nothing to lose

They are willing to die
To get rid of a repressive brutal regime
And also you should apologise
It's fine to say you made a mistake
But he obviously doesn't believe
They made a mistake
You welcomed him in
You made him respectable
And sold him the weapons
He's using on his people.
You made a mistake
Say that you made a mistake.

- He doesn't believe that he made a mistake.

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

I can feel a warmth
Around your belly
Meaning mineness.

Two strangers lie skyward
And wonder if their stars are crossed.
He’s gentle and she is soft;
They nudge and shuffle closer
Until they’re equally as lost –
Arm hairs touch,
A sudden rush
From depths of stomach
To somewhere up above.
If we were children,
We would call this love.

Just
A sense we have
For the future that is in us
Strange and Familiar
Like the break of day.

Luke was such a dreadful fidget
He couldn't sit still for a minute
He'd toss and turn all lesson long
Like a caterpillar crawling on a cattle prong
He'd flick his rulers, click his pens
Cluck and fuss like a headless hen.
His tutor, a tall and sombre man
Was struggling with his teaching plan
He'd taken three days to prepare
But Luke was more than he could bare.
"Right! That's it! I've had enough!
If you don't stop I'll call your mum.
Unless you're really in fact quite ill
I'd advise you to stop it. Oh do keep still!
I'm just about to lose my mind, oh Luke
You're being quite unkind!"
But Luke was on a sugar high
"I can't stop!" He said, "I don't know why!"
And with that he jumped up, began to dance
He leaped and swung and swooped and pranced
Till all the neighbours gathered round
To gaze and gawk at this unsightly sound...

Through the day's clutter
In idle moments
To distract myself
From the great grey elephant
Who is no longer in the room
I notice myself
Experiencing a new pleasure -

"Russia - a short history."
A book of black on white on red
Something reassuring about
The prison bars of text
Keeping time at bay.

At school I couldn't much relate
To history. Why would you bother?
To unravel distant mysteries of
One done thing after another...

But wars that once took place
A hundred lifetimes back or more
For every step I take away
Are closer than before.

History was one of Grandad's things
But now, the opposite is true
And much as I ignored it
It seems it's coming for me too:

Now I've a habit of my own
That comforts me in bed
I used to read the paper
Now it's history books instead
And perhaps I'm closer to him now
I'd chuckle if he said -  
*History's a place where no one dies
For they're all already dead.

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.

I broke up with McDonalds
On Valentine's day
People said she was no good for me
I had to get away

So I told her, It's not you,
It's just a phase I'm going through
But as we all know -
Dumping fast food is not a pleasant thing to do.

So I broke up with McDonalds, didn't see her for a while
Was doing pretty well - there was the occasional drunk-dial
When I walked up to the window
And I slipped into the queue -
But then I came back to my senses
And realised the thing to do...

Was to keep on walking
Keep on walking
Right past her
Ignore the temptation
To suckle
On those golden arches
Ignore those bed-like burgers
And those oh-so-easy fries
Divide our shared world up
And sever all ties!

Yes! I broke up with McDonalds and my life is better for it
When my girlfriend serves up rabbit food I simply adore it
I was scared of life alone with no kebab to walk me home
But...
      What I once spent on burgers...
                                                     I now spend on...
                                                           ­                      Haribo!

Oh Haribo! Haribo!  
You are a fruit tree in a sack
And although it feels wrong to see you
Behind my girlfriend's back
She can not be hurt by wrongs she does not know!
No - the new love of my life is Haribo, oh Haribo!

But then one evening after work
My girfriend came home early.
Caught me curled up on the couch  
Soaking up her girly  
DVDs
In front of me
A bowl of
Not nuts, nor seeds...
But fizzy, yes fizzy,
Cola bottles  
That were  
FIZZY!

How could you do this?
My girlfriend screamed at me.
Cannot you see the damage that they do-eth to your teeth?
(She'd been reading Shakespeare)
No, my eyes are on my face, I can't see in my mouth.
Right, she said, If you think I'm joking then I'm going to kick you out.

So she kicked me out the flat and that was that she said.
Not quite...
I grabbed my stash of Haribo from underneath the bed.
I told her all the things about her that I really hated

And the moral is:

Relationships with things that you can't eat are over-rated.

A mess.
Squeeze past the bed
Drawers reluctant
A suitcase on the floor
Coming or going?
Not sure.

It’s a mess.
Perhaps if I clear it up?
But to clear the clothes off the floor
I’d have to open up those drawers
Reluctant to.
Where’s the hoover?
I found the vacuum.

Life’s a mess.
What with all that going on
Going on in the West
With the banks
And the robbers
They should sort their act out
Make some efficiencies
It’s just
Oh it makes me want to

My life’s a mess.
Life’s a mess.
My life?
A mess?
Life.
It’s a mess.
Messy.
It’s life.
Just can’t be
Bothered
To get a
GRIP
On it.

1. Is it my life?
2. Is it a mess?
3. If it is my life and it is a mess, does it follow that my life's a mess?
4.

Poetry un-messes messes
Poetry de-stresses stresses
Rhyme and reason suggestes guesses
But words' meanings' mean with messy message.

It seems like we're going to be strangers
Living different lives in different cities
On different channels
We were best friends
You made me smile
Your smile made me laugh
My laugh made you smile.
Why do parents go and ruin everything?
I'll miss you
I wonder whether we will stay in touch
I had another friend like you once
And now we don't talk too much
I'll always drink my morning milk out of your mug
(You left it that time by mistake,
I kept it ever since. On purpose, sorry).
And I'll always think of you whenever
The clock says quarter past.

Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.

Ms. Love was 15, Ms. Love woke up
Now Ms. Love is 25 with no one to love
Except memories of yesterday, once upon a far away
She met a boy - same old story - now he's gone and now he's all she
Wants – but they both have moved on
Yeah they both have moved on…
Or haven't they?

Dan understanding understated undemanding
Underwhelmed to find his hand in hand in hand with Beatrice Blanding
She's a nice girl in the right world and though she may not be the right girl
She loves him dearly
And he loves her… nearly
But is it nearly enough?

Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for -
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?

Dan understanding gives Ms. Love a call
He says I've missed too much of your life already I can't miss it all
Oh, what say you wanna play? I'm on a train I'm round your way
I'm up to here with being brave, I want to see what life could have been
Do you know what I mean?
Do you mind if I lean in and…
Kiss you?

Looking for love behind all the wrong doors
Like you came into the bedroom and forgot what you came for
Is it something different, is it more of the same?
Was it someone else, or is it me again?

Ms. Love & Mr. Understanding -
They still go together like
The mists of love & misunderstandings.

I woke up in a huff.

Things I should have done already,
Came back in a flood.
Too many things,
Everywhere I looked,
I closed my eyes.

She scratched my back a bit.

"That's nice." I lied.

I wait for everything to pass.
Just stop, don't think.

"How are you feeling?"

Don't ask that.
There's something vicious in my mind,
Always on the attack.

"Wanna talk about it?"

No. Or else I would.
And now I'm thinking about it.

I let it go. Slightly tense.
But unanswered questions
Don't quite disappear.
They build up.
Every intervention is
Another pebble in the pond,
Another splash,
Another ripple.

Time to settle.
Take a breath.
Roll over.

Everything's all right.
It's fine. It's going nowhere.
One step at a time.

I could
Slide up to unlock
Perhaps I've gone viral in my sleep.

I haven't, but that was hope -
I think - just a glimpse -
Somewhere in between the homescreen
And the last
Past the apps I didn't choose,
And the one I did but never use,
To the ones that I don't want,
But am addicted to.

"Coffee?" She asks,
Taking a white towel
From the hook
On the back of the door.
That's nice, I think,
She doesn't drink coffee.
I make a sound that means
Something either way.

"Escape!" is what I want to say.
Run. Before I scar you with my grey,
Grey thoughts.

I count the steps as
She goes down the stairs.

Alone again, at last. I breathe.

My phone won't let me down.

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.

The cat comes round from next door
When his humans have all gone out -
The kids with their mum’s high-pitched voices
Daddy "Drill" with his DIY shout

And the cat comes and sits, sits in silence
And he rolls on his back on the floor
And he asks you to tickle his tummy
Then he asks you to stop with his claw -

Yes, it’s nice of a day to have company
Of the kind that don’t too much distract
Yes it’s better than telly, oh isn’t it very -
Nice to have neighbours with cats!

Neil was a nervous boy
Who no one ever noticed
He often knew the answer
But he very rarely spoke it.

He had an older brother, Jim,
Who was big and tall and strong.
He never said a word to Neil
Except – Eargh - “WRONG!”

So Neil took to playing
His own game of hide and seek
How long could he be silent for?
His record was a week.

“Wakey, wakey Neil!”
Said his dad one night at dinner.
“You had a quiz at school today –
I asked who was the winner?”

But just as Neil’s words
Were forming into song,
His brother flicked a pea at him
And said – Eargh – “WRONG!”

All his family laughed at him
But rather than go red,
Neil bit his fingernails
And disappeared upstairs.

He stayed up all night in his room
Plotting his revenge,
Still fiddling with his fingers
Till he’d bitten off the ends.

Morning came – he did not stop
He plotted and he fiddled.
He did not even notice that
His knuckles had been nibbled.

Back at school it carried on
Pinky – Ring – Index – Pointy – Thumb…
It wasn’t till the lunch bell rung
He noticed his two hands were – none!

“How embarrassing!” He sobbed,
“I ate my hands!” But did he stop?
“I can’t go back to class like this
Everyone will take the ****.”

Nails, fingers, knuckles, wrists
Then funny bones and both armpits
Head, shoulders, knees and toes –
That’s how nervous nibbling goes.

By the end of double biology
Neil was half the boy he used to be
And by the time he’d got back home
He was no more than a mouth and a nose.

“Neil’s quite quiet tonight,”
Said Neil’s dad, “Think he’s all right?”
“Oh he’ll be fine,” Said Neil’s mum,
“Probably just lots of homework on.”

That night, Neil’s mouth and nose
Packed a toothbrush and some clothes
And stepped out on to the moonlit road
Their plan: to run away from home.

They wandered round the town all night
And saw a hundred unseen sights
They saw the things most people miss
The shadows of unhappiness.

Till round a corner he found a group
Of kind old ladies making soup
“Oh dear, my dear, what’s up with you?
Has someone been ignoring you?”

Now Neil’s nose was so surprised
He stood there, mouth open wide -
One lady took this as her cue
And poured in some tomato soup.

“There you go dear, see – much better!
Your neck and belly back together.
Now be a dear and lend a hand –
This piece of bread’s for that old man.”

Though Neil was less than a head
He did his best and took the bread
And when the man said “Thank you friend.”
Neil’s face lit up again.

So Neil worked the whole night through
Making, stirring, pouring soup.
“My dear, why don’t you sit down now as
You’ve been on your feet for hours.”

And sure enough, below his head
Were shoulders knees and toes
“Oh!” Said Neil, “Hello, hello…
I missed you lot, where did you go?”

His foot said, “I was in your mouth.”
His knees – “We knocked each other out.”
His gut - "All eaten up with doubt.”
Till his whole being began to shout.

"WE are Neil! Stand up for us!
Or others will just miss us all -
And the boy in each of us
Who eats himself invisible."

So, next morning, back at home,
Neil put on his brightest clothes
And in his loudest voice he spoke
Of that long night that he left home.

And no one interrupted him –
Not mum, not dad, not even Jim,
And when he’d told of the whole night
Jim turned to him and said… “Oh. Awright.”