Getting lost
in the Coffeeshop Quartet.
Birring grinders and steamy explosions
chattering friends- coffee tinged emotions.
Everyone's exploring with their faces upbeat,
a little bubble of warmth against the cold harsh street.

There's a fine line,
between
Arrogance------Confidence

Mr Tightrope Talker

I have a
disconcerting.... habit.
not drugs Mind you
or the like,
its a phrase- or more honestly a turn of one.
"Come Along."                                                          ­  Strangly simple right?
For the life of my life i don't know
WHY
I repeat it.

Am i perhaps
reMinding my Mind
"be Mindful of those landMines planted by that Mindless mad man"?!

in honesty,
i doubt it.

Gripping. Your hands,
slicked with sweat. But I had
to hold it (hold it) tighter.
Heights aren't scary.
but
I've dropped your
porcelain
skin one time too many.
Left me wary.
No more scars for us.

Evil starts
"with every little lie" they said.
Yet here your heart lingers
neither truly alive or dead.

Be not afraid
of loneliness
as
Streetlights must be unlit
to sometimes see the stars.

i take shelter in your grooves
growing stronger in the curves
like whetstones smoothing and sharpening me down
to make a fine point

i wanted you to build with me
to push
me
up gently.

see if this rust
can turn into something beautiful
to see if rust
can be turned to gold

i dug my patch of dirt
with my fingers in repentance

this formality before the hurt
this action my penance.

like these roots that roam
far beyond their means

this heart can't be home
to any semblance of honesty it seems.

with the soil                              a cradle
weighing me down
i see a vision of a mottled crown
the coldness seeping in
and for growth to start somewhere within.

You require at least three similes.
A metaphor or two.
This section needs more sibilance,
and another allegory on alliteration too.

Creative writing
now a standardized test
where a poet seems
to do slightly poorer than the rest.

You receive a checklist, told
bye and buy the book.
Drain away the colours upon your pencil
or face the examiners sickle and hook.

Creative writing
now a slog a convoluted use and reuse
of that which
"improves"
your descriptions and inscriptions.

You need a conclusion.


something befitting a happy end.
Try anything smart
and a bad grade i'll be "sure to send."

this love is a caricature
overblown into something not quite natural but still you see the foundations. if this was something normal like a nose an ear or freckles fine i'd understand

But it's not

it's something you count back from twenty to cover your need to break something kind of caricature.
it's that I'm not angry I'm not angry I'm not angry
repeating ritual kind of caricature.
that promising the next morning you'll close your eyes at daybreak and finally be able to let go!! kind of caricature.

im no artist
As all my attempts have shown
I'm only a poet
and
all my poetry is *overblown.

i broke the bed
that wasn't made
for me
and you tell me how funny
a story it will be
for others to laugh at
to laugh at the loving me.

time can lighten the crushing loss of another.

but the tides change.

Sunlight's embrace through leaves
to caress cheeks and chin;
dancing on your features.

To a computer screen.
Reflected on glasses, with
tensed teeth and eyebrow.      unseeing.

The moon sits somewhere out of view. It does not intrude.

Sleep does not take me this night.
Hazy irises seek out your face in the gloom.
found in a bed an arms-reach-eternity-   away.

                                                          (i dont want to look away)

so i watch the sun through curtains. throwing greetings upon the wall.
to caress your eyes and hair.
the first blink of morning.
a smile.

are we defined
by tragedy?
only thing tying us together
is my desire to be called
we.

there is nothing more to do but let the rain pour. it is pointless to try but we all try pointless things in the hope that they won't be for us. we throw umbrellas to the sky in anger and stamp in puddles out of frustration.

"IT JUST NEVER LISTENS!"
"IT JUST NEVER TRIES!"

from throats that are filled with apathy but momentarily outraged.
we think it will be different.
we try to make be different.
we start begging it to be different.
yet

It still rains.
(and we are at a loss.)

We have Homes: Security
We have Graveyards: Grief
We have Old folks homes: Maturity
And Prisons: Thief.

Humans are cozy creatures,
Like things neat and tidy
Building, buildings to compartmentalise our society.

I am..... Was...
Something, something, someone.
So many names, places and so many faces
so many. So many....
Seeking
I am.... Was....
Seeking peace, my peace,
your peace, our peace.
Please.
I lost you. Didn't I?                                                  (Didn't I?)

it seems that all Love is,
is finding the snippets of those who once
we adored
in the bodies of strangers and hoping
this time it will be reciprocated.

Your fingers,
wrapping around my cuffs ripping the seams
That's your revenge it seems
till the hard come down had set in,
what you would scream, now stays within.
You've run through the pipelines in my head.
Sewer dreams.

i found myself
at 3am.
            He was not the same person
            as before.

**and I wonder if that's a loss or a gain.

After you stumbled down
not so many steps
Tongue searching for the words,
to chain me to its depths.
I won't lie.                          I saw (no. you knew.) where this was heading.

Before your lazy lounging around
and lackluster laugh
finally losing its lustre.
Truly your falseness was found.

Now your distant happiness
heralding our own end.
No longer seeking your "loving" caress
not willing to pretend.
  
                                                   That we were (in fact) meant for more.

I saw you standing there.
Looking at the street as if it was a stained glass tapestry telling you how much your life would take
Then.
You saw me, but you didn't "see" me.
It was lazy
lacklustre
And should of screamed a thousand warnings
But I..I'm oblivious aren't I?
I notice the curve of your back, crumpled silk I reach to smooth out and bring you back AND

With a flinch that runs through you

I tie my tongue around my teeth.
Somehow I manage to say
"How was your day?"

"Okay" you'd say. Looking through me you'd say.
"Okay"

take me taste me
you are the body
reset me satiate me
you are the body.

touch only
fragments of the full picture
nobody says
the taste would betray me
nobody says
the heart
is the first ***** to commit mutiny.

stabbed, wrecked
punctured, indented
wilt the words so
so my mouth
isn’t responsible anymore.
it cannot be held accountable
for the vowels, unroot my language
supplant love in favour of it

like an opener
                            I remember your laugh
like a close.