this evening
as i look out of my window
i say;
10,000 people could be 1 person,
a flock could be a single bird,
one breath left could be a lot of living,
the parked car could be going too fast,
and all your shouting
could never make
a song.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:54 PM UTC
i could write about...
coke cans & purple sin
but you could just look out of your window
and make up your own mind about that
….instead i'm gonna tell you about
an immense tremor that might be
beneath us right now
about how this calm street
might be flushed like a ****
to somewhere a little closer
to the
centre
of the earth
o.k you've probably already thought about that
anyway i don't want to be morbid
and i hope we're here tomorrow
(you, me & the street)
then again there's a part thats curious
the drive by and stare at the
accident part
the first finger
in the last
flame
part
the part i put in you.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
I
Put my
Coin into the
Slot
And watch the
Plastic horses
Galloping away.
Now my ears sing
And I lead straight lines to circles,
Into symbols for the eye inside the glass ball,
Its blinking is its calling.
I carry it,
Cables dripping from my sleeves
Stumbling out of
And from
The oceans favour,
Back to my own arms.
Feeding back the seagulls to the breeze.
The thunder feeds my compass
To a sun lost in a forest.
Thrown into boxes with carpeted walls;
I find myself playing
Heavy metal.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
who lights fires
who's smoke fills the slow ticking house
resting on its grass stained elbow
gnawing at the apples branches in the can't be ****** orchards
once I burned in a yellow room of vases
and dreamt of naked canaries with curtains pulled away from tug of war ocean
It was too much to conceal
and I fell into the secrets of bridges, the sacrifices of
hedges that are ghostly in carparks, that are the moons dandelions
that are nothing to everyone
that pulled speakers from ribbed cages and trampled on the curves
of their sex-doll music, flattened their supermarket haze into
the bickering cages of their stabbed backed rooms
I flowered beneath the sickest of suns, became strong and unrecognisable for awhile
but I recognised myself in the final chapters of these just begun pages
and suddenly I could speak again
I was no longer nervous
I carried you through the coldest of places
we threw the stars back to their homes.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
tonight I'm going to
sleep with the curtains open
and if in the morning
I don't wake
let these sheets become flags
hang them so they appear
as swans on top of
telegraph poles
hang them where the grass is blown across
the midriff of the girl I saw on the platform today
hang them above the fields
where potatoes grow into
the shapes of sympathetic ears
hang them where they may
unravel as bandages from dancing limbs
let my scent cling to them and let the ones
who loved me bury their heads in the wind
hang them on the hero's shoulders
let them be the cloak that transforms him
hang them out to sing in the pines full of woodsmoke
hang them where the sun warms the seagulls belly
where babies commit clotheslines to memory
hang them alongside the underwear you decided not to
wear today
let them hang like actors performing
daring rituals in tropical hotels
hang them on the cucumber held by the checkout girl
hang them on the chins of strutting statues
riding concrete horses
hang them over the endless heads of anxious eyes so
children may play with driftwood
their sea encrusted hair untamed
unwashed
hang them over the conspiracy of clocks
but don't let them hang around too long
don't let them hang down sad and greasy
shrugging shoulders at the parties end.
muttering 'nothing left, time to go'
pull them down mid-dance
sporting a bulging
salt-breeze paunch
hanging just long enough
for them to know
I have eaten well.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
ugly men on the way back from work
watch the summer dress and the small body within
walk with the breeze down the steps,
down from the station while
the trains pull away,
their carriages carrying the sea and the low-tide estuaries'
breath within them
and they watch the dress and the body and the breeze
cross the road into
the sun swallowed supermarkets
and the ugly men walk home
beneath retired balconies
and the slow
beginnings of evenings.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
I laughed in places
Where Laughter was not asked for,
In granite market towns
Beneath refugee palm trees shivering.
Running from giant hands
That were covered in car wash fluids,
The back of children's heads imprinted
On their palms.
I laughed during disciplinary procedures,
Before authority figures
With cornflakes in their red beards
And my laughter crept over the edges of their flowerbeds
And the grass laughed with me.
I laughed at funerals,
The sounds of horses beyond the churchyard
And a messenger ran down the aisle
panting and exhausted,
He had a message for my laughter
' Quick you must come at once'.
I laughed during marital feuds,
Laughter rising out of its own body
above broken guitars and dried up bonsai,
Above all the things I said
That contradict me now.
I laughed during serious films,
The tulips drooping on top of the T.V.
The sun slumped against the door,
Behind heavy curtains
I mistook for pigs on hooks.
I laughed over exercise books,
Above algebra and history
Behind impossible bra straps
That appeared out of acne and ink flicked backs.
I laughed at the swimming pool
Hiding birthmarks like stains,
Drowning above the water saying
'I am a fish I must get back in!'.
I laughed in surgeries among migraines
and told my mother that robots were taking over,
in the same rooms where they removed my brothers' verucas
And I saw the doctors small blade
escape through the window.
I laughed during friends confessions,
In between the silences of repeated songs
While pantomime dames walked past windows
make-up running in black and yellow rain.
I'm laughing while making coffee in a campervan,
I'm laughing because its a monday morning,
Because everyone else is busy,
Because we have an oil lamp from a pound-shop
Burning beneath the sound of rain on the roof,
Because the radio's silent…..
And because sausages are best done slowly.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 11:05 AM UTC