like ball to glove
like light to match
like fish to hook
shes a catch

and he called her the ocean
because he'd drowned in her eyes
and been lost in her smile
shed tears in the waves of her hair

and he called her an omen
because she burns bright streaking in the skies
racking up her air miles
a comet dashing/blitzing without care

and he called her a wave
because they come hand in hand with goodbyes
but she left him with neither
on the outgoing tide

couldn't sense her sin
couldn't tell a thing
even as the choir sung,
the bells were rung
and flowers flung
for i was strung, roped, hung
by the misdirection of her perfection

100m;
Flowing down the street like a 2.30am moonlit beam
on still waters, I mistook her for the sky.
The way the dress caressed her body
like the clouds that hold the moon

50m;
a falling meteor
a dawning sun in the red radiance of her lips
as its rose blush rushing across her cheeks

1m;
Everything.
A supernova girl engulfing its solar system - its light to be seen a thousand years later in another galaxy before continuing on past, universe to universe, till the end of time or the edge of existence (whichever comes first)

The edge of existence;
A cool breeze
A burn on my retina
The sky was gone

the door was barely opened before
I caught her like a 2am yawn (once seen unstoppable)
she caught my smile but expressed it better than I ever could
and like I would for the queen I quickly stood
she must have seen my eyes through the hazy night
and she moved closer like poetry I cannot write

ok I can't help myself
she walked like an 'um' itself
an um for the wordless times
when something more important is on your mind
when you're asked for the truth but are filled with lies
when in pause, time it buys

gliding like a miyazaki dragon spiriting me away
anywhere but here, the now, the day
struck dumb
the response to her hello?
- 'um'

deep-set moon-crater eyes
lips as red as the dust on mars
all i asked was for a little space
but she gave me all its stars

she was not a predictable kind of girl
not on the elliptical after work, kind of churlish,
living in a simple world type of girl

her hair cyclical in raphael kind of curls
and her biblical storm swirled whirlwind eyes unfurl
in the rain
like a pirouette
like a rose
like rolling thunder

I can't wash off the flower she drew
on my arm earlier this afternoon
A forget me not.
A game of 'she loves me. she loves me not'
A knot untied
I feel the fear that Narcissus must have felt as his ears turned to petals,
his hair to vines.
and his scream to a blooming flower

she's got a voice like lavender
and a hug like a rhyme
the legs of a traveller
and a mind teeming with time

she thinks like a poet
yet acts like a priest
she's has an air of fresh breath
wisecracks stuck between her teeth

she picks them out like
apples in the market
like moses on the mount might
like crops at a harvest

that's all i have for her tonight

I've been running around
a notebook on my hip
and the sun in my eyes
and your words on my lips

i've been falling asleep
with your smell on my mind
and the faintest memory
of our fingers entwined

but I've been waking up
with a pillow by my side
and you leaving with my dreams
on the outgoing tide

she texted 'I dreamt of you this afternoon'
which was a promising start
'you were a paintball instructor...
and you shot me in the heart'

now - I'd never dreamed of her
(and thought that even worse)
I wondered if I should mention it
or just write it down in verse

but, that very night,
dreaming in the solace of the dark
I took part in her archery class
and she shot cupids arrow through my heart

No, said I, the rock on which you thought to build your love.
Don't dash yourself on me.

some beauty made the moon

some beauty made the sea

that same beauty made you

but it didn't make me

Day 4: Here is my heart

Day 1: I left my heart at the bar but you mistook it for finger food

Day 2: Nibbled and chewed, I gave you a gun to stop its thrashing
            but you shot at my feet and I danced to your beat

Day 3: broken and bruised I tried to leave but I was stuck on your leash
            part of my heart on my sleeve, the rest in your stomach
            you were the master of me. The master of puppets

Day 4: ready for a long awaited rest
            I've painted a target over my chest
            please, shoot straight
            you can keep what you ate

if you couldn't infer who is 'her'

she is all the hers i've known
from all the we's that I have blown
where some and none and one are One
and more will come til life's been run

that's a guess but it sounded definite
its also a guess that the possibilities are infinite
it's a guess she'll remain as a sessioned imression
I know I still haven't answered your question

a ghost roams this house
it's yours
and its one of the many things you left behind
when you left behind nothing

-not even a toothbrush
just your teeth biting deep

not even a perfume bottle
but an aura
like how a dead flower sitting in its vase still leak lilies
and how a dead body laying in its casket still bleeds love

but if i know one thing
it's knowing nothings are something
like how even though you took my heart running
I don't need it to keep my blood pumping

sorry I mix between serious and surreal
in these serials of her
swapping sense for splendour
subtlety for superlatives
her bark for a purr

was it love at first sight or
had I somehow loved you before
was it hormones in the blood
or something closer to the core

Like two connected hearts or souls
like two encircling black holes
was it a chance encounter
or someone sitting at the controls

Now; I don't know the truth
but I don't need to
all I know
as that I need you

I have poems for your twinkle toes
and similes for your wrinkled nose
how it twitches
like the Bewitched witch's

I have poems for your starry eyes
reflecting all the star filled skies
each and every glistening datum
just as if your pupils ate them

not like a black hole swallowing solar systems
******* light and all existence
but like an 8 ball of spotted shining wisdom
also like what I have written

Every second a star dies
And I'm not sure what that signifies
But when we met I used to see supernovas in your eyes
Now there's nothing grand but something simpler
And that's how it always ends
Not with a bang
But with a whimper

The freckled girl screams 'out **** spot'
thinking they're part of some Higher plot.

They are. They are. They are.
For this sky would be nothing without the stars
Imagine Orion's belt without each datum
(and I say this without sarcasm)
Think of the ocean that'd be a chasm.
Without the drops - nothing happens

poetry would be nothing without the atom

i met the darling devil on her own porch
-darkling-
a wine bottle in hand
foot tapping to some underground band

she said
mi casa, su casa
my castle, your casket

I shed
my masks and my musket
said - if you need something just ask it

she smiled. her only response.
i could see she must have what she wants
to be a human on our green and blue ball
the most dangerous being of them all

Pumpkin faced, fang toothed witch
plump chin, fake tan, broomstick

nose with warts, chosen devils cohort
courting the goat, a shoat cutthroat
cavorting devote to the angel turncoat

tilted head back with the eerie cry 'halloween is nigh'
why she's dressed up 10 days early i'll never know why

wondering
why's the vice president always so senior
is that a permanent feature
like how 2+2 is always equal to 4
and I'm lying on the floor
wondering if these words have been said before

like
what makes the beauty of the sea
are you beautiful
or is it just to me
does it matter
do we matter
what's beauty's main factor
why does the mad hatter
drink tea
a clock carrying bunny
is more mad than a tea party
bon soir mon amie
that's all from me

she's been running through my mind
with her heels on
smashing all she can find
like a Hadron proton

a thousand miles an hour
she screams through the rooms
and she doesn't even know her power
like a flower in full bloom

It's a new Her this week
an emma from a building up the street
met in the line of a bar
caught eyes from afar
felt my knees arms and heart go weak

the rest of the night was a haze
we left the bar in a craze
carried through the door
undergarments on the floor
before moving onto the next phase

one more drink from the bottle
and she brought out her novel
she read with such probity
I ripped up my poetry
and turned from a lover to apostle

like venus and mars, nestled betwixt a bounty of stars
we snicker at the galaxies of gods
behind flakey, early morning lips;
waiting for the apocalypse

Its her
and its a:
*******
its a:
Lost Breath
its a:
Weak Knee
its a:
Barely Stifled Smile
its her
and its just started
luv ya x

drop dead gorgeous, a girl to die for
hot headed taurus anthropomorphic ichor

Rage against the sadness
***** it if your poetry is badness
Hello! Poetry isn't for your complaints!
beep boop beep boop paints

Just remember - When the situation is dire,
(and this is from the king of the mire)
'What matters most is how well you walk through the fire'

actually I've run out of poems
and a pen is no longer my totem
as I wander my dreams

I'm trying to think less material
but I can't distinguish here from the ethereal
for reality's tearing at the seams

What about a dream itself
I know the weight of them so well
I guess, maybe, others will too, that means

I guess I'll stay here forever
whether I be real wherever and whenever
in the upside downs and in betweens

there's a game we all know
that has a Monopoly over us
that doesn't take a dice to throw
nor a score to plus

its the game of Hearts
sometimes complex like Draughts.
a game of straight flushing and great blushing
in spates of gushing or candid Candy crush Crushing

sometimes there's:
star crossed Starcraft lovers
two-per scenario Super Mario Brothers
and the game's
a Tetris tete a tete
a dual duel between two beating chests
each with a Chess set missing a King or Queen they've yet to get
Romeos and Juliets
though they've only just met

and other times;
we're just trying to Connect fo(u)r two seconds for once
in this scrabble scramble through life
Risking it all in the Trivial Pursuit
of trying to fit in the Sudoku
by following some pseudo social cues
of the games creator
that says we're failures
if we're not in 2player

a lifetime

He yelled
Out **** spot
to the freckled boy from next door

and
out **** spot
to his own black labrador

he wolf whistled and cawed
to all the lambs on the moor

yet
he had never seen or thought
of the blindspot in his own eye before

So i have this little room behind my ribcage
swamped deep
in fathers hugs
and mothers smiles
and an uncle teaching me to fish
a brother teaching me loyalty
and a sister screaming fashion tips from the top of her lungs
'but SAAAM black tutus ARE the craze right now'

Its a mess - as its meant to be
I can't file or discard
grandma sneaking me a hot chocolate after I've been put to bed
or grandpa eating my vegetables while mum and dad were distracted
(peas were the worst)

So you must understand that this room isn't just for you

I love you

but I love my mum, dad, uncle, sis, brother, uncle and grandparents
I love Angus for carrying me home and putting me to bed with bourbon smelling ***** staining my shoes and shirt at 4am in the morning
I love Ms. Wells from third grade
Heck, I love my dealer - they have their place in the mess

If you can handle that,
the door is unlocked,
come in and throw a memory on the pile

i fall in love like i get sick
it happens on some idle tuesday
after a night in the rain

come sit at my bedside
and have a cup of tea
i'm a little low on love
and more than low on vitamin c

i kiss like i cough
and i **** like a shiver
with a wheeze
and a nose running rivers
i'll wear my heart on my sneeze

opening my chakra
feeling a little less darker
a couple of drinks is my marker
but its always just the starter

at the brink and then I'm past it
it was fun while it lasted
now I hand over to my master
from the poodle to the mastiff

screaming who wants war
blocked from the liquor store
my mind wants more
but my liver isn't sure

back to waking up at noon
soaked in bile like some cartoon
know that by the time I see the moon
I'll be singing the same tune

The sun is hung.
The day's at end.
Hello, night,
my only friend.

The page is black
with ink i've penned
all words unwind,
blend and distend

candle flickers
mind can mend
my body -wasted-
so to my spirits, tend.

our crescent moon floats in idle reverie
amidst its opal lagoon
in that lacuna befAore the day's first morning blush
while the fish hold their breath

and as she swims,
she illuminates the heiroglyphs scrawled on the sky
in the scumbled vapourtrails of hurried planes
soon to be dispersed
by the heavy breaths of snoring gods

but i just don't ******* care
moon, please let me sleep

the more I see
the less I know
that's a lesser evil
so I'll let it go

the more i have
the more i need
the greatest evil
is a little greed

the more I live
the more i'm in debt
to everything i remember
and every think I forget

Death sits beside me on the park bench.
Its four o'clock on some idle Tuesday.
Scythe lying on the armrest,
I hope I'm not dying today.

Like a rose petal falling off its stalk on February the 15th

six o'clock, every morning
on its way since the dawn was yawning
meant for you as long as you pick it up
made for the spot beside your teacup

People, places and things
have become things we collect
things replace people
and it has the wrong effect
things, places, things
has the wrong ring
- its clearly incorrect -
people aren't objects despite our dialect
nor merely nouns now to be subject
at least I object
we're both Proper and imperfect
both Collective and dissected
both Abstracted and connected
More than nouns we are the now
thats what I think anyhow

Atop a roof
in the neighbourhood of my childhood
I leapt for the stars
as I never thought I could

The breeze rushed past
I looked back where i stood
thinking to myself
so far so good... so far so good

see now,
the cement has never meant so much
cold heart hard to the touch
and soon back to dust

god's angel before I fell from the top
falling for the melting ***
I'd always been covered in freckles
now out **** spot

Poetry is like a *****
in its wobbly, dangly freeness
(This poems not the cleanest so stop reading if you're a little squeamish)

Some have it, some don't
some use it, some won't
some like it awkward with a twist at the end
like a shakespearean couplet but on the person it depends

for others its merely secondary
(oh but always necessary)
to the holder - their Mars or Venus
So, as god is my witness,
poetry is a *****

spliff blazing, room hazing
eyes fading, legs failing
arms flailing, mind derailing

but darkling
you, darling

are a clarity,
a singularity
in this 4am city

there's that poem that you read
that stops you in your tracks
dropping the book on your nose
as you're lying on your back