yellow light from the coach station
against marble houses-that we wish
we could buy- reminds me of the silver
moon we watch when we’re high.
now I’m crying into the duvet
and feeling far away from whispered
happy compliments I don’t know how
to describe you but you’re mine but
it’s time for a forest fire to still the fire
in my heart. I start to want to hold you
forever though my forever is over
my love, my never again. feeling your body
pulse with each sleeping breath reminding
me of death and I don’t want you to go.
I like being bad when I’m with you, sad
though it might seem when we dream
and you ask me to speak french when I’m
smoking cigarettes, trying to forget the plans
we made. we plan to go to europe because all
our dreams sparkle under the weekend skies,
you sigh, I can’t get back from here, my dear,
I fear I don’t know what’s real anymore,
what to feel anymore. your broad shoulders,
we’re getting older, they wrap around me &
your eye lids flutter, reminding me of a kind of
innocence we have yet to discover, my lover.
now the sun is beating down on london parks
where we sit and talk and dream, it seems
you are so beautiful reading kerouac,
what a cliché but we’ll get away, by megabus,
counting our change, courting our lust,
on 5 hour bus journeys from city to city
ambitions to home, joy to pity.
cuddling to britpop, we keep popping
pills and thrills and whatever is going.
don’t go, I know I’m a romantic
(you have no idea) your passions kills
and your mind excites, I might have to die
tonight, I might. I want you in the kitchen-
I can never untie my shoelaces- living on shoestrings,
tightropes and other things, I think that drinking
in cinemas could be a new favourite pastime,
are you still mine? drowning in wine, I know
I cry too much, but touch me. that night we went
out in your car to the docks, no stars, but you still
shone for me. buckingham palace is against a grey
sky tonight, against us but we still try- england is mine,
england is mine. we don’t usually kiss in public.
I used to spend a lot of time in the cathedral,
scribbling poems in the crypt, hoping something
would stick, but we drift towards a moment now,
my muse. you use me. red flowers in the buckingham
palace breeze, I breathe in daydreams of paris and patti smith
I keep rehearsing my life, it seems.
Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 5:11 PM UTC
I waited for An Epiphany until it got dark,
fixing my gaze on the back-lights of cars
blinking against the depressed black sky
I waited for you, you went and got high.
I met a boy once with eyes wilder than mine
who wrote poetry about me for quite some time,
after I broke his heart when we were fifteen,
from that summer, I was nobody’s prom queen.
I died a hundred deaths when I was sixteen, sweet
dancing with darkness out on the street.
I had pretty clothes so pretty I clothes I wore,
Hidden beneath were secrets, nightmares, flaws.
When I was seventeen I started to smoke,
scared of broken dreams and squandering hope.
My mother said I have an old soul,
underwater I feel ninety years old.
You tell me twice I feel everything too much,
Eighteen years-young, kiss to kiss, touch to touch.
I drove you out to the Peaks one night so you’d understand,
picked you up later, took hold of your hand.
Now nineteen and still half grown,
tiptoeing around myself when I’m alone.
Hold me close, follow me through my head,
to my dark thoughts, be golden thread.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 6:19 PM UTC
I never lost anything but twice-
Friendship then innocence
Twice standing barefoot
Searching for love.
Angels- with firey eyes
This time they give back
Butcher or Poet?- Muse!
I am rich again.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
If the stars came undone from the sky,
And caressed the earth so lightly,
Like golden flowers in the night
Your eyes would shine more brightly.
Brush past my lips, and into my mind,
We dance in sequin shadows,
Find each other, sinking into
Clouds, soft as sun-dipped meadows.
Into each other's arms, a feeling,
Floating, eyes closed yet I still see you
Reflecting dreams into the night;
Your loves ***** my vision in blue.
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
What thoughts have you tonight Allen Ginsberg? For I walk down the main street
Under the streetlights with a sinking self-consciousness, looking at the blank building site.
In my quest for new experience, and shopping for clarity,
I went into the neon night dreaming of your visions!
What soul and what joy! Lovers at night! Circles sweeping the floor!
Girls shimmering and boys shaking down! Shadows shine lunar reflections!
And us- my Peter Orlovsky- What were we doing down in the corridor?
Give me your thoughts, Allen Ginsberg, dancing, new dreamlike words,
Sprawling among the leaves of my mind and speaking to the night.
I was asking questions: Can we go to the bar? What can I do? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of bright lights and vibrations, followed by you and following
Brilliant waves of imagination.
We were down in the open corridor together, in our solitary harmony, tasting your lips,
Which possessed ecstasy, and watching passersby. They all say we’ve got it.
Where am I going, Allen Ginsberg? The doors closed at daybreak. Would your writer’s
Hand have pointed us towards the black taxi tonight?
(I think of my dreams and jumpy visions of you at the Moor and feel foolish.)
But held in your arms, asleep, a lighter direction. The trees are coloured
In green, the pale blue sky heavy, streets solitary.
I wake with you, dreaming of this love, whispers under the covers, forgotten whimsies.
Ah, poor Beat poet, bearded, lonely now forever, scattered in my brain like stars.
What poetry is this? Smoke curling upwards towards the construction site staring back.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 1:29 PM UTC
drag my body through the traffic
to the cathedral to meet st. jude.
count my wounds in the tear drops on your shirt.
i cry glitter now,
chasing dreams like a sleep walker.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Sunset is an escape from this,
everything I consider love,
making me look like a fake poet,
standing in a raincoat,
tear drops as glitter- how can they understand
my psychedelic dreams-
"Look up at the I love you bridge,
It's lit up underneath the stars,
and see that man by the road, waving poetry never going into print."
Novels written in water drift downstream,
under the green shade of park daylight.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
Hand me the city, hand me
the breathing steel humming
I hear when I close my eyes.
Hand me everything I need.
Did you speak to me or slit my throat?
The time is now to jump from the window.
I look to the sky, daydream of floating.
The club closed early and the rain,
the rain melted the buildings,
so we lay on your bed and waited
for the lights to change but it was still
dark when our smoke climbed up and up.
Sleeping through the slate grey morning,
What's your game? Hey poet,
you **** out our eyes and spear our hearts.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 1:58 PM UTC
Fragile the white poppy and frail are
The words we spoke, help we gave
Souls that scream in anguish
Swept by death's wave.
Pale and broken- yet strength
Is not a distant thought
For gentle eyes and gentle hearts
Never need be taught.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
smiling though the lamps fade fast
smiling with white teeth against the night
to and fro they are dancing and
the dance is not wasted on us
white and silver marking your silhouette
touching though hands are pale
hums in rhythm to sad musicals or
distorted lullabies for grown ups
the necklace in your mouth is weeping
bleeding like my heart is now
dancing though the night's gone
the stars rock us away
he's rocking with his shirt undone
he's rocking quips and ego oh
it's a long way home from here
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC