Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
bleh Apr 2019
obsequious bitterness
cawed of your hallowed mask
take 5 steps and

cakes in the oven, save
for the life after next, save,

footsteps, tinnitus ring,
records and mulch

everyone cowers
  at the wasp on the bus
that's passed unnoticed on the open street


orbits of flight
  inchoate rage
bashing its head against the windows
radicalization of blind corners
spectacle of death
coil and frisk

how miserable how unfortunate how tragic how mindless how unthinkable how predictable how impossible how  urgent how hopeless how uncomfortable how

tongue severed tie

the centre expands, ossifies,
swallows and dissolves

best leave the dead to speak for themselves, they've
history on their side
  after all

inflected bias
in silent tears

if only  i could drown the whole world in melancholy

siren wail
   nervous tinder and pike
buzz and clutter

  waves their arms in discomfort, but
otherwise sits still

the irrefutable materiality of inertia

the bus drives on
if only
bleh Mar 2017
cherry syrup wine
warm cheer,   soft
   stain the vinyl   ocean blue
blesses to the calfling child,
swim swim
swim child

  do you remember?
  do you remember?

the day they drunk the matches
the day they swallowed the lights

sparklers under blankets
huddle midnight kisses
     half sunk jelly plane
  red letters fall of sand

do you remember?
do you remember?

the day they drunk the voices
the day they swam out bright

midnight child of mangled limbs

keep swimming
keep swimming
bleh Mar 2017
the heat infects everything, muggy rain batter churning through murk

i close my hand and
   cut the fingers on the lip

  we left the forms on the third floor, which
is the fourth floor, really, english standard  i
  always forget that

the generator hums
  they're     doing something with the piping
     sounds like drills
        but probably isn't

we had to close up early when the vents broke and
   water gushed all over the computers, washed away the paper screens, we were
  told to vacate, but I just stand, you
                in baby blue  slacks, poke me   but i’m too busy  
staring at my bleeding hand

the envelope was addressed here but i didn’t recognize the name,
no, wait, the other; it was to someone
         i knew but
                                         not from around here, i   think

   there is much     and i

fall,  though cushion and sponge
          big eggplant river

              remember when you were eighteen months and you ran and fell into the mirror? under a deep conviction that that was how you passed through, into the image beyond? but instead you just saw it shatter, and it gashed your arm up all the way up along the metal hinge? still have the scar, right? nowadays you don't trust reflections; you're always instead looking for that jagged lip, that latent violence of the edge, it's
   probably a good attitude, really

in the mirror    shattered birds,
               break their necks on  bad design  
too pathetic for tragedy
   don’t worry, we’re all self-hating narcissists here, you’ll
feel right at home-
     chuggin  on woolf and plath
           only seek wisdom from self willed death
       it’s an indulgent bias
             but the living are all such ******* suits, man

  just, look, how
        they are speaking, now, in a row, a flat screen, projected, and words filter out. the faces are blur, the words are static,  but the form is discernible. accusations. charges. prosecute; indite. plaintiff paper wrung. burn the body and pin it to itself. axiomatized sin. society as the codification of a hatred too bored to sustain itself.  i ask for a glass of water, but the words only form wheeze through the strain. Quiet. Your turn to speak is later. i'd run away, but i'm invested now. gotta see how it ends. the screen retches on. do you recognize this letter? i ask, but the words are wheeze-

sorry, sorry, i know, even if it's all about you, i'm just carrying on about-
           do you-
                        do you prefer to just embrace it?  wear it out, burn it all up at once?
     the repulsive husk at the end is just confirms that there was something prior, after all. death is affirmation as well as negation.
         or           do you prefer to hold it close, hide it away in dark spaces? i mean, that's fine too. a candle rarely lit never burns out. and only a few flickers are all you need for a wax seal; to drip your mark over sheathed words-

        maybe it's the smell. it was sent from my hometown, after all. the name was never important, but the winter and coal. The olfactory of old factories. sorry. i know, but i couldn't resist  
                         how we'd

we'd laugh in silence,
moths flooding through broken glass,
bodies only figured
       as sparks in orbit
     against the amber light
     all too light
light light
  and colour.

weightless as paper
               a paper weight,   wait-
   thrown through a window?
no,   too
                 long ago to recall

  the post office says they'll take it back to the sender. they can retry, repeat. it'll find it's way from there. it's okay, your responsibility is over; hand it over, leave your body at the door. as long as it's still sealed; as long as the envelope's not too frayed to cut, it's still good enough to exchange. interchangeable.   i run, still clutching  

  and   they,     funnel us out,
river down the concrete stairway,
  those echoing closet tones,
to the street below,
  and stare back at the mess, they're
   putting out cones,
                       and handing out ponchos,
for the typhoon rain of summer bare

and- and that's it. so what do you do? it's not entirely rhetorical. what can you do? do you
   scrawl a note, explaining yourself -everything this misplaced message became to you,- over the outside, and send it off? forcibly insert yourself into the conversation? and just, imagine, project some understanding, some insight, that they'll get from it, that you provided?
    just break the seal? you can't open it, can you? it was never meant for you. hell, what answers would be found there, in words for another?
  but   perhaps-
    perhaps   there are secret codes; messages, not in the words themselves, or the letters, but only to be found and understood by the eavesdropper, the guilty. that outside, absent third party, on the boundary of it all; just gazing in, standing there, speechless, beyond the mirrors glare

      but that's just fantasy

or, perhaps, do you prefer to just throw it all away from the get go; define yourself purely around the sense of loss? in the end, that's fine too. but just remember, for better or worse, even misery has diminishing returns

   i mean, that's all there is, right? in the end, we just keep on going, until we don't. it's all the same; read a letter, burn a letter, send a letter. but, even if eros and thanatos are twin faces, ananke is still out there, on the edge, poking their cheek
bleh Feb 2017
pale shadows of flung anger
 fault towards your toothless call
economy of silent fury
   shell your bones
   shell your bones

crow feather
   ggarbled fflight
  plot by plot

quiet spill
     the knell ossified
   brittle ruptures
of foam pour

take it out
take it out
take it out
take it out

speak in silence
  lacerated gaze

**** or have killed
  bifurcated for your own good,
  possibility will be revoked

the only choice
     blood on your hands
or blood in your throat

  till all
internal haemorrhages resonate
and spill the world to dust to dust to
god i'm ****
bleh Jan 2017
swollen mudflap dreams
  voice of sinew street
     wooden flakes     clap the wind

terra-cotta creaks muffle
choir kiss velvet thin in
  empty mountain air, sinai drift
( peace be with you, peace be )

         a long year        here's to another

  gotta visit the family in an hour
coffee and cake,
  brother and i will argue 'bout politics
he runs some business, i've never worked in my life
he uses productivity to hide his loneliness
i use social grace to hide my emptiness

we probably understand each other perfectly
       but will never steep to sympathy

big canary
best in school
sing your
lelujah for the gulls

break your wings in
crumbs and sandwich tins

burrow down to a
                     maize of glass
    build a temple of sleet
   and have a cry in it

bed lump, bed lump   lump

  fight your frozen toes

  last week a lily bush grew in our drain,
pools of **** and tissue clogged and sputtered out
  the flowers were real pretty tho

it's like that feeling, you know, when you wonder, if    you
  left the gas cooker on, with the children still sleeping
an anxious terror overruns you, but you gotta get to work
too late to turn back now,
  you can't just stop everything every \
time you realize how easy it would be to loose it all

so you keep on,   determined resigned comfort
   despite an unshakable certainty
                                 it all burnt away long ago

go for a walk to calm
            rolling cloud
valley glut
                       last light's wet custard haze
  a solitary bird tries to mate with its echo

  branches tear
cut weave through silence
            effervescent haze
dust road hill the valley fall the blur below

i dreamt last night  an old crush held me
and pulled my teeth out one by one
i really miss her

and so you lie, there, thin cotton down, gunked up on the drip,
   i read you a story,
                                  you don't want me to
               tired and disorientated, falling into sleep, among the
            bleeps and light,                 smell   of alcohol and saccharine
                                        you can't handle the leech of words right now,
but you insist i continue anyway.
i need this,  i
to prove i was there   by your side,
  for your sake,
and you are too polite to refuse me this narcissism,
too scared to shatter it all
          and turn away at the last

oh, hey! sorry i haven't
       yeah no,
it's been years, hasn't it?
i- i know i know, i was the one who insisted-
and then never made the effort
what's up?
uh, nothing new, really
  still haven't fixed the wiring
still just
anxious feeling
ambling along a

that paradoxical redemption,  that

           impossible unity
    of innocence and forgiveness

yeah, no,

and so you float up, out of the vents, above the roof
  into the clouds, the rain sets in,   oh - the
       drier's broken, you can't afford to get these clothes wet -  but
the  pattering feels good on your blistering skin

  so you drift

       far below
                                                  the bell's pale ring
   sunday murmur bubble and gather
       muffle ***** wring shoelace voices
              river wiped bored communal toes
          mudfleck shoes and patchwork rags

  a turn, another, then,
                                worn timber creak

the church doors open
bleh Jan 2017
twirl ballroom spritz
    'cross abandoned parking lots

weave your lamentations
    out in umber mist

gin and panadol
white arsenic cordial

death drive in moderation                      

bushy dough
down your gumboot towers
yyo faggg
fark your sign'a'lings
carped up in the haddock pouch

in maudlin dreams
swirl your phone sleeve
round your wristflick
you blooster mate
right cranberry

where the **** is it? where the **** did you put it? it's not funny, hahaha, oh god, hahaa…..

but     later,    

  radio incinerator
   nightcap in sodium cloud
beached tire tree
are you sure they weren't just friends?
nah, one had a pink scarf and the other a tight shirt

anyway, they were pretty old. post-thirties don't have friends man, just spouses

***** through the dishwasher
  spin cycle spin

bleh Dec 2016
harbour abyss
shallow dwell our shotgun cells
open wide
tastes like magnesium
swallow now
magnesium magnesium

fall down you barrow folds

     why are all the snails out?

                                 you haven't heard?
    it's been forty weeks of rain
    it's been forty years of rain

      crush them if you see them-
       don't you know we're in a bubble economy?

the churches crumble
cats lie bored in parking lots
surrounded by nothing
pat pat

the summer heat

dye your bones
in rohypnol veils

empty into cartridges
shoot up
sky burial
float the concentric
lace of vultures

    do you ever pantomime being hurt,
                              just to hide your hurting?


this ******* heat

  pavement swells
dig up the dirt
relay the dirt
reseal over                                   spit your teeth
tap tap                                           from the mountaintop
                                                    i­nto the ocean

spend the days watching
    kids stamp on the ants
and then cry as they learn what it is to know death

mothers stare on with tired eyes

        the summer heat  
        the summer heat
              who took all the rain?  

there's this game,
this game, you see
make a jigsaw
but replace every odd or so tile,
with an image of your own design

after a few tries,
the whole thing becomes entirely incomprehensible,

but at least it's yours

when i was eight, i got a diary for my birthday, a real fancy one, hard-back, needed a key to open it, all that. i loved it, i'd stare at the first page, blank and inviting, and i'd just well up with feeling. it felt like the first time i had a truly secret space that was wholly mine, where anything could go. i left it empty, in the end, could never figure how to start it, but i carried the key everywhere, still do

"don't stare at the sun
  you'll make it blush  "
Next page