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john-brimblecombe
English
A Palette of Sunrise Bronze spears waltz with pure aubergine amid cauliflower cumulus – gold touch-paper. Sugar sprinkled wash with candy pink bubble-burst stains church spire and oak. Saturated in spongy tangerine night-shapes meld into broken egg yolk coffee spills through fields. Foggy wool tufts grasp mushy-pea hillocks, sweat drops from tired shoots. If I was a mender of souls I would prescribe five minutes, twice a day.
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Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
A Pallette of Sunrise
‘You’ll make it worse’ she said. But now her eyes were fixed to Matt Damon’s **** hands full of Malteser mess. My chubby digits do my walking a finger-tip rub round the rim takes the itch away. I must have got bitten round her mate Skanky Tina’s. More hoover – less cat. X STA CY Now I’ve caught the edge. pull back the scab and in the popcorn bag. Blood. Oh my God, blood. It starts to well, then trickle down my leg toward the sofa. If I can balance right kitchen towel just too far wait, the pizza plate. Perfect. Tissue soaked in tomato grease fits the bill just right. ‘What the Hell are you up to?’
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:28 AM UTC
You'll make it worse
I lie and listen to her breathing like the whisper of seduction. The murmur of a promise the sigh of a summer breeze. The scrape of the chair the roar of an engine. The sand in my trainer water gurgling through the pipes. The turn of the wheel. The meaning of my words. Back to tranquillity and she is once more the wine in my glass the cork in my bottle. Marks to my Spencer my chip ‘n’ pin. The stone in my cherry the warm breathe of the oven door. Candyfloss at the fair Blood in my veins.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:27 AM UTC
The Mrs
Lying just under syrup-film surface St Vitus’ dance, pushing against ductile bonds back-flips and breaststroke. I, with my rolled up Mirror, swatted surprised eyes followed the arc and plop! That lemonade is useless now. What did it think as it drew its last? Enjoy the tang? Panic? Does it realise? Will it feel the bubbles push past? It could grab one, **** the air. I might dip my finger, crush or flick. Gran and Granddad chatter drowned, roast lamb, pipe and sunshine. I twist the glass to get a better view. The twitch slower, body fizz-jiving will it sink to the lemonade-bed, limp and cheerless? I could stop this, the thought pushed aside by fascination. Minutes tick past, chimes cut with miscounted accuracy. I realise the last witness feels sad.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
Death of a Fly
My ear, still wet and ringing from beer-breath secrets where I leaned to hear the tin-can submarine story - then had to leave. The constant tick inside my head louder and louder since our call, me: somewhere in the South Atlantic you: in Milton Keynes. Inside the black wells between the orange hiss of sodium lights my firework nerves crackle - the splutter of a coffee machine hides the arrival of the 10:43. The scent of your lips deafen me. Wind slices the platform like the shrill pain of The Surgeon when he hacked at my toe-nail. (It was one of those nights.) Two express trains pass and we are caught in a vortex of crisp packets and *** butts. A tissue hat, green and damaged, floats onto the track.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:24 AM UTC
Waiting for You on New Year's Eve
Coffee mists the window as leaves dance, blown by autumnal gusts; summer is gone. Your presence is in memories, and life goes on regardless. I yearn for the soft embrace of a mother’s love. You could not love, not once in our twisted dance. I am left with the harshest embrace, the chance to redeem gone. I am a man regardless, surrounded by my own constant memories. I hide behind memories, turn them into excuses against love. My liberator slices through regardless of my erratic dance. Lessons learned are gone, captured in love’s embrace. I turn to a child’s embrace, the birth of new memories. All thought of you is gone pushed out by innocent love, learning a new dance irrelevant of a past regardless. I am in your shoes, your influence regardless. A responsibility to embrace, side stepping your dance learning from my memories. Bad lessons of love Now gone. The pain of passing has now gone, despite all, I mourned regardless. There should be a hole of missing love, a divide I would happily embrace. It should be filled with memories of a family’s dance. I am sorry for your loveless embrace. Bitterness is gone, I am content regardless, my memories lead me through this dance.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC
Lost Opportunity
For two weeks, waiting. Pacing. Twitching with every ring, the call home. You are turning, finding your way out. The hospital. Waiting. Groans of pain. Impatience. More striding across the room, nails bitten. You arrive. The midwife holds your unwrapped body, you are awake, turning this way and that to see the world. Our eyes meet. You are in Mum’s arms. Head turns. You stare into my soul, flick the switch. I am born.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Late
Hey, there you are. I found you. All along hiding in my backyard. Up and down the High Street amid the dense foliage of Friday shoppers I chased. You weren’t there. A glimpse slapping at the ribs of a broken home. Hope. Again you shrank Until, dejected, I returned. And here you are emerald through the cup of tea steam. Who knew?
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
Hide and Seek
Drum and bass - the engine revs, Tyres grind and squelch into the hardpan. The cab rises with a squall of angry breath, Lurches forward with a shudder. Wrought iron gates heaved shut Hinges squeal like a pig, they are a pig. Slamming metal resonates In secure embrace. Ugly black rubber stains the concrete - Mascara on a cheap ***** If the rumbling cages are food for the beast Then I am stood in its bowels. The sour smell of rotting food Mixed with washing powder and bleach pollute. Greasy plastic, rancid fat Makes me recoil and retch. In a gap in the tar she grows. Raising her head to the sun in oblivious defiance
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Dandelion
Time Click Shutter spirals to pin-prick Framing negative past On mind’s surface. Flick Light bulb knowledge Brands white hot incandescence Into an otherwise black hole. Tick The gradual minute hand Zooms by with a stutter Of an eyelid.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:18 AM UTC
Click