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Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
Is there anything left to do
or has it all been done
already?

Please tell me

I’m lying in the road
I’m walking the ghost
I’m kissing exotic petals
paddling through the jungle.
I am sifting through an interesting
range of small glass objects,
one of which is an owl
and I am now counting car park
Spaces at Morrison’s.
Oh yes I’ve found a new hobby
and I am becoming obsessive.
I am twisted into a sordid dream state
of integrated parking structures, of free
standing multi-storeys in multiplexes,
out of town malls, town centre Galleries
and other associated parking opportunities
[often free of charge with good maneuvering
zones clearly designed-in].

I write all these details down in a small
blue notebook, narrow lined with a
margin, from WH Smith’s.

The Numbers:
Morrison’s 420
Marks and Spencers 350
Metro Centre 1322 [still counting]
The Nag’s Head, Mitcham 26

[Remember thought that this is only an
extract from the journal]

Oh no

I’ve just discovered some
clammy doughnuts,
deep in my overcoat
the sugar congealed,
just how I like it.
Someone is singing
‘show me the way to go home.’
I say show me the way to Broom Street’s
multi-storey car park [NCP]:
State of the art entry and exit facilities
Token meters
In five languages
Please
Please
Please tell me the optimum size
of  European parking spaces and
what extra allowances need to
be made for American manufactured
motor vehicles although I realise
this is less of a critical matter now,
as Americans are going through
a culture shift
towards smaller cars
and standards are merging.

Please.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
He was a substance boy
hard atoms
lava blood
brain hard wired to the moon
And she was a liquid girl
not much more than a pool
could evaporate to a speck
gold in the hold
hearts on the deck

skewered…

He lived in a town a
town made of gingerbread
a town called Sweetness
She visited once and found it agreeable
although she failed to see
what all the fuss was about
but the liquorice chimneys that was a nice touch
Gingerbread houses……
cool enough
until it rained because when it rained
it rained tea
she hadn’t been ready for that…
…and neither had he.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
Torn space through the prism of a legend
where the dogs run through confused light,
where the twisted fallen trees beckon,
where the tracks of an old route laboured
by miners snakes, stumbling over
the rusted iron stanchions of an old gate.
There’s a glade where nothing grows-
it’s where the aliens landed.
Lights dancing through the confused trees,
sprites of old, peering around damp nettles
and piles of dog **** wet leaves; let’s dance
around the place from whence I had the
calling, dreaming of a new life
amongst the stars.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
The beach is a plate of
seashore glass, crescent
mooned around
the bay.
The ocean heaves:
azure
spume foam white
liner grey.

My back to the void
I look at the green park
beyond the grainy esplanade.
Beaten trees
mermaid sculptures
a dwarf dressed as a clown
children dancing
then the wave strikes:
it does not so much surge
over me, as I pass through it
like a stone.

I leave This Time and engulfed
in the water
breath aqua life and
ponder marine thoughts.
Give respect to the fish and
from whence we came;
paint the best painting
I will ever paint
write my opus
love my all
think beyond science
and see how we have got it all
so very wrong.

Then the loud water subsides.
Its kinetic energy fizzes in
illusionary colours around me;
its soda crackles in the slum
of my nose.
Somehow I have remained
standing as the ocean swirls
around my thighs.
River currents of potent calm,
synchronised,
the sun like a smudge of God.
The beach glistens in a shifting
veneer of trickling sea.
Maybe now it’s time to test
my nerve on the shore.

I focus on the monument.
It glistens and calms on the
hill beyond the park:
a free winged seagull perches on it,
staring out to sea.
At me.
I laugh and mutter
‘Up Periscope.’
Somehow it seemed the right
thing to say,
but what, what to do?

Maybe if I touch the monument
I will be told.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
A lot of addicts came out of the jungle
where the word atrocity was neutered
became a way of life
shine the silver globe
walk the streets of this city
score down by the quay where once

clippers berthed and later
freighters unladened their
fruit and spices and
even slaves but it’s now a marina
with cinemas and  fast food outlets
and bright rain-soaked lights

and maybe it is possible to
make it to Assateaugue Beach,
give it one more go photograph the
wild horses camp out in a glade
take plenty of insect repellant but
be careful not to sniff too much of it, hey,

Yoxall, remember him?  Blew himself up
his tent went up in a ball of flames
how Roxy had laughed how the forest
had frowned
how the surf had crashed where love
had faltered, mainly for personal

reasons; then the thought had occurred
to drown drink in the Atlantic.
Lightning had crackled on the horizon all night
it seemed romantic a Grand Gesture
but no one would notice, the only impact,
one less customer for Ronnie outside the

Old Dime, Friday nights, a busy time and
Roxy had laughed again she said she had
been refunded some cash on ebay, even though
there was nothing wrong with her purchase
[two grand’s worth of  porcelain elephant
she’d ordered for no other reason
than being extraordinarily drunk]

and the seller had
wrote her they would do it this time as
a one off, as a jester of goodwill.  
Now then isn’t that what we all need?  
No snap of rifle fire
no severed baby arms
no skewed bodies on many poles
no scooped out skulls filled
with another’s blood.  

Just give us all
a jester of goodwill.  

One each.  

That will do.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
COLD SPACE I

Things like fridge monkeys
can be sorted quite quickly
mustard’s the main thing
but make sure it’s
in the right place

centre shelf

Dijon’s good

or maybe American

wholegrain

organic of course.

maybe…

COLD SPACE II

The fridge monkeys are still there:

**** Them!

the mustard is not working and
I must think of alternative
strategies

come on come on come on

A carefully peeled tomato?

There are yoghurts and soya milk
and small chocolate bears but they
too appear utterly useless ineffective
an ineffectiveness
akin to the intensity of distilled
vinegar mistaken for a pre-mixed
bottle of ***** and coke
[it happens]
grabbed drunk eyes spiral gag

I keep the fridge door open;
the light glows then
in time
turns itself off.  
Time delay mechanism.  
Clever.

I close the door and reopen it again;
the light has returned.

I try to trap the fridge monkeys.

This goes on for sometime.

Oh **** I need to get a life.
Ben Brinkburn Jan 2013
A cross once hung there on the scarred
stone wall.  Its outline burnished like
the shadow of a nuclear blast-
did the wooden icon perish in fire?

Crumbling igneous walls quarried from the
Tees-Exe line, mulatto stone, time as no friend.  
Tumbling ancient brick, red lumps
and shards, no good for anything.

We pick through dandelion and thistle;
a ruined keep in waning time.  You my love
are the expert, a geological feature of certainty.
I am the temporary marker.

We hold hands in this pretty ruin, this old
box of death. Roof long gone as if in a grand
gesture of soul release, as lazy grasshoppers
scratch in the evening, warm and sublime.
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