day 43
28000 miles out
isolation no longer imagined
small specks floating, floating.
outside the window... space
and so very distant
home...
blues, greens, brown
almost perfect, almost
the marble of earth ....
plaything of gods
                             and mere mortals.

i see you
run and leap
off the cliff-head
and plummet down

only to stretch your wings
and fly, skimming across
the white capped waves
before majestically  rising
into the endless sky

you are beyond me now
all potential and life for living
courage incarnate, dreaming large
and ineffable technicolor  dreams

yet to be broken,
or touched by brokeness
your light pure and shining

god, i envy you, but, yet
i don't want to be you...


i, too
once made that amazing leap
into nothingness
with the same grace and confidence..

but that was my journey
this is your day....your life

and icarus's all,
as you make your way
to the sun,
remember this
there is but one thing
that burns more brightly

and that thing is...

one year on, one year on
and nothing differs,
yet nothing is the same

the sun come out today
as it will tomorrow
the grass grows,
the wind gusts and shakes the trees

all manner of things just carry on
all manner of things are blithley unaware


but not I,
I feel the difference, the sorrow
the spaces that can no longer
be filled...

I feel the void....a great gasping thing
that hides, waiting to catch you unawares...
and then takes the colours from the day
leaving behind a glassiene grey

one year on, one year on
and still, I turn to you to say...
but you are gone,
and now even your scent
has begun to fade away....

not got poetry within me...

have searched and sought,
found only dry bones
and hollow whispers

mirages to a soul that sighs.
mirages to a soul that cries...

bones that clack and clatter,
whispered words that natter
and scatter and dissipate
....at an alarming rate

my ear aches, my heart aches
and those bones, do break...
and shatter

mirages drift, mirages drift...

as i sift and seive a tired mind,

yet no poetry do i find....

it is in the cool green edges
of my memory
that i see you
                            standing, talking, with other men
                            cigarette in hand, a hat cocked on head
                             all tall and strong and smelling of brylcream
      

it is in the deep purple
of my mind
that i love you
                                 remembering days stolen from a lost childhood
                                 beacons on shipwrecked love
                                 admist the heaving sea of a saddened childhood


it is with orange streaked red rage
that i hate you
when i can be bothered to hate you
                  
                                for parties lost, birthdays  fogotten
                                for questions asked and gossip whispered
                                for the belief instilled by lack of interest
                                 that i was not enough, that i was the problem


it is with a tired sky blue
that i forgive and recognize you
    

                                                as  a man who wished, and wanted
                                                but was unable to give and recieve
                                               a world of wonder and days of sweet wine

it is with white...i let your memory drift...into the dark  of your making

and it is to the bright welcoming yellow of my life
to be lived, that i turn and embrace....

Last week...

Last week, I lost my alarm clock
with it's murp and bop and purr

I had this clock for twelve long years
through feast and famine....
joy and sorrow....
crazy days and long dark nights....

For the most part it was a reliable clock
waking me morning after morning
with love and honest hunger...ready
for the day to commence
Although it often  stutter started,
through the daylights savings changes
and sometimes felt the same way I did
about cold frosty mornings
but it was a good clock...
a good, good clock,
inbuilt with joy and warmth
and a persistence. ..
that made me face the dark days
and love the days of sunlight and nonsense

All the recharging it ever needed
was love and sunshine
the occasional scratch under the chin
and a full food bowl, whenever requested

Last week, I lost my alarm clock,
with it's murp and bop and purr

This week...for the first time... in a long time
I can sleep in.....
and I don't much care for that... at all....
                                                                       ...at all.

it's all
up in my head
all  these disparate threads

all these under the bedclothes
secrets
all these don't mean to be
but am what i am moments

all stuffed away in stacked suitcases
braced by not sure what you ,mean faces
all those sacred and scared places
within this wearied, wary and weirdly  warped soul

all the tattered scraps, the you are here, maps
the body slaps, the landings without *****
the god i need a nap snaps
all stacked racked and filed under
memories:
vivid, hazy, pleasant,pissant, piquant,
crazy, tearful, fearful, beerfull
and happy, sad glad mad,
**** why did i follow that there fad
bad...badass
fragile as glass
pain in the proverbial...
ask no questions ....
tell no lies
time flies....

all there bats in the belfry
cats in there pj's
no where, mayhaps be free
listening to internal dj's

dancing til dizzy
drinking slightly fizzy
alcohol.... misty tizzies,
getting bizzies...

all there, in a mixed up soup
smiling faces, put through paces
thoughtful moments, all the components
to make a life....to make a life
it's all up in my head.........
                                                roosting