& holding on.
never felt so strange.
what's giving to me?

to know they've walked away.
alone.
conquering lands.

into me.

into me.
they chant.
sevens divided.

a blue wash of lust.
embracing me.
fileting me.

butts on softer notes.
ghost kids searching.
for death still burning.

As I chant into this *****'s teeth
my solemn vigil is cheated.

& it seems that the ones with no power were correct.
That the ones who held me so low & close selves so high
they were true.

Correct

My story was false.
Misunderstanding that I didn't understand.

I'll be busy in the bathtub.

How to become a poet?
Write
Your words will spill
Some like water droplets from a faltering faucet
Some like torrential downpour
Leading your mind to flash flood warnings
Your words are wrapped in foil
Waiting to be heated up
And eaten up
Poets are hungry

We were probably thirteen. I told
my parents I'd be bowling, borrowed
five pounds and you
did the hard part. Asking men out-
side the off-licence to help us.
I tried to make if look like we were old-

er or together but it wasn't
long before we had the bottle
or six of Bacardi Breezer. Prising
each lid off with my keys,
you picked out seats from the dusk
deserted cricket stand.

A couple through, you showed me
how to put my hand in someone's pants
as sticky alcopops slopped
round and down again. I couldn't open
our last nightcap so we stamped
its neck against a brick and doubled up.

We didn't kiss goodbye, just
staggered into swaggers step
by step across the Common.
My mouth fizzed with syrup
residue and blood from broken
glass.

-

Come let’s follow the path
to a heart beat in blossom
Dance in the streets
of a new foreign town

Drink to the evening
with moon beams now swaying
Under the stars
when there’s no one around

Singing a song
to a melody’s whimper
Sigh on the eve
of our first kiss delight

Walk hand in hand
down the road to forever
Sit by the ocean
be one with the night

Cling to a dream
we’ll relive in the morning
Capture the breeze
that does tickle your hair

Swim in the love
that now washes our bodies
Find everyday
*is a new one to share

A Hundred years is nothing to an oak.
A Thousand to a mountain is a joke.
A Million to a solar system just exceeds its birth.
And we expect to make a difference in roughly eighty years on Earth?
PwL  5/5/15