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bones May 2015
A heart beats thinly
under the winter's cold skin
it's sunken pulse fades..
..
bones Dec 2015
..
There's folk on the news
on the tele tonight
and all of them
making me sad,

they're all of them
thumping on tubs tonight
and waving
American flags,

and it's not so much
the waving I mind,
or the sound
of tubs being thumped,

it's more the thought
that human kind
will thump them
for someone like Trump..
bones Jun 2014
Not til the third
maybe fourth
deep sip
of sweet tea
does my body
begin to cushion
the boneknocking
rhythm of
the drumming
that has rolled
it's welcome
like carpet
over the dark hours
and the Wessex plains;
my face is one
of sleepless thousands
turned east
waiting
the return
of a warm
hearted friend
for the longest of days,
I stand in
fields of good wishes
and the impossible
blue giants
of Preseli feeling
wet grass
between my toes
remembering
another June day
breaking
in a place
not so very far
from here
where the drumming
was the beating
of club
against flesh
and the wetness
at our feet
was dripping and brutal,
I see others
that share
the taste
of undiluted bitterness
and still others
watching strangely
the strange folk
old enough
to know (better?)
than to curse
the footfall
of each passing
police issue
boot; some wounds
time heals
in it's own time
and though
we grow older
I would be glad
now if time
hurried a little;
a gentle breeze
smooths the fields
softly dropping
fine mist
over my ghosts
that thickens
like dark cloth
on the eastern hills,
collectively we stare
at the distance
willing a tear
through it while
up above our
heads there is
a pink sky calling
for the red sun rising
and we are here,
as we always
are, to remember
our tales and bear
witness.
bones Nov 2015
I once
met a man
with a thousand
yard stare

and a club
in his hand
in Trafalgar Square

and the blood
on his club
matched the blood
in my hair

one fine and fair
morning in spring;
then he blinked
and continued to swing....
bones Dec 2016
There's a face at the window,
an old one I don't know,

I do hope he's not slow
to answer my knock;

It's late in the evening,
it's christmas and freezing,

I think he stopped breathing,
well ain't that my luck.  :0/
S'okay he was justa snoozin' after all. :0)
bones Oct 2014
He'd been closing more doors
than the ones they'd agreed,

so she emptied the drawers
and she readied to leave,

when he asked her for why
she said look at that sky,

that's the breathing space
my lifetime needs.
uncaged
:o)
bones May 2015
She traced
the patterns pressed
by the grass
into my knees

with gentle lips
and fingertips
as light as
falling leaves...
(Can't sleep remix)

We traced
the patterns pressed
by the grass
into our knees

and lay
with slowing hearts
undressed and
sleepy in the breeze...



(nearly next morning now remix)

She moves her hand
more lightly than
the touch of falling leaves

and traces like a map
the pattern pressed
into my knees

and where the lines
are deepest finds
my sweetest memories...
bones Dec 2016
Leaning on the grass
like the late September breeze,

she traces as a path,
the pattern pressed into my knees

to where the lines are thickest,
finds my fondest memories,

and softly drops her kisses
like the falling autumn leaves.
bones Oct 2014
She's an alphabet artist
she paints in words,

from a palette of adjectives,
nouns and verbs,

the landscape she finds
in the folds of her mind

she exhibits in volumes of verse.
bones Jan 2016
She opens a window
and hopes for the sky
to fall in from outside
and it's tailwind bring

her the moon and the clouds
lined with silver, a crowd
of the finest of stars
and a spare pair of wings..
bones Sep 2015
On the day
she turned to dust
she asked the wind
to be her friend
and it picked her up
and ran her
through the fingers
of it's hands
and it poured her
into pockets
and whispered
to hold on
and before the
church had emptied
they were gone..
bones Jan 2015
We danced toward
each other's wounds

with gentle step
and touched inside

and now the bleeding
has resumed

and all this blood
is hard to hide.
bones May 2014
For those who are regretful
is becoming more forgetful
ageings saving grace ?
If your memory starts to slip
does the bitterness untwist
and the frown turn upside down
upon your face?
I know it sounds bizzare
but if you don't know who you are
do they matter still,
those things you didn't do?
The reason that I ask
is I can't ressurect the past
and I need something
to look forward to.
bones Dec 2015
And who then would have told  
of this end anyway ?
Not you, you leapt first and furthest
always, and recklessly that last time;

few enough I think remember now,
but I knew you when
we were skywide open and
kin to the blowing wind;

we were brothers you and I,
two of a different kind, we ran
and we jumped like suicides, leaving
dust trails like others leave wealth,

there were days I believed
boxes were built only to be
strung together as freight trains,  
god knows we rode all those that were;

but lately I see them used
by people frightened of
freedom also, for to
hide their worried lives inside...
bones Dec 2014
I have an irregular heartbeat
that ever so easily trips
head over heels and breathless at
the thought of your thighs and my hips;

I have an irregular heartbeat
I worry will run out of luck
and trip and stay breathless forever
before we are able to f...
bones May 2015
Each time
he opened up
she took a part of him
and kept it for a bullet

each time
he opened up
he waited ...
...expectantly

and was disappointed

but in the end
because it was the end
she opened up too

with every bullet
she'd saved

until his screams
burned remorse
in to her eyes..
bones Mar 2015
She grew tired
of having to hide
from her need
to look deeper outside

so she struck up a match
and she burned
down all of her prisons
and never returned.
bones Nov 2014
If I can unwind
the strings of your heart
and pull them until
your heart pulls apart
and looks like a nest
blown down from a tree
then I will say yes
if you still want to be.  x
Thank you K
:o)
bones Aug 2015
I put my trembling

hand in hers

when I was four

and twenty years

now twenty more

are come and gone

and yet my trembling

carries on

for different reasons

though I don't

remember when

those reasons changed

and all I have

is foolish hope

that one day they may

change again ....
bones Nov 2014
She watches
at her window
for the sun
to reappear
and when it's warmth
is on her eyes
she knows
her friends are near
she smiles
because she's happy now
and turns around
to play
hand puppets
with her playmates
before they fade
away.
so lonely
bones Oct 2015
I dread the sound of its passing
and the call of its merry chime
on the hour every day
the price that I pay
for life is a fear of time...
bones Dec 2014
She marches
the column
of crosses
and ticks
in line to
the foot of
the page,
a timetabled
life surrendered
to lists is
how she
gets rid
of her days.
bones Mar 2016
This morning at daybreak
and half awake still
he bundled his memories
on to a stretcher
and carried them up atop
Cothelstone hill
and sorted them through
for the moment he met her;

the memories bandaged,
the ones with bruised limbs,
he laid on the heather
like hospital beds
but the one of their first kiss
he threw to the wind
and asked the wind's help
for to help him forget..
bones Jun 2015
With backs as broad
as upturned sailing
boats on meadow-grass
the cows look up
from udderneath
the wind and watch it
hurry passed...
bones Mar 2017
When this skin
was young and ironed,
well it fit,
like new things do;

that was then
but now I find
the cracks within
are showing through.
bones May 2015
Like a
crooked
tooth
she played
on his
mind
just
enough
to keep
him
from
smiling...
bones May 2016
There once was a man
with the gravest of frowns,

hung like a ham
by the folk of his town

who wanted to see
if his sad mouth might be

any happier turned upsidedown ..
bones Jul 2014
If today
the anxiety
boiling
my head
boils it
inside out
and today
is the day
looks
really can
****, then
today I
shall have
to be
careful
to avoid
at all times
still water
polished metal
plate glass and
people in
sunglasses,
because today
(or any day)
I don't
want to
be a victim
of reflective
suicide..
bones Mar 2015
Dark-eyed poet
in the long night
come and burn
your time with me
let's set our whole lives
on fire tonight
and breathe each other's
smoking dreams..
bones Sep 2014
Old Father Jack
followed the track
trying to find
his way home,
heavy of heart
and foot in the dark
cut by the wind
to his bones;
old Father Jack
night on his back
battered by gale
and rain,
cried out for the Lord
who thundered and roared
and took old Jack
home on a train.
In Bits.

Take care the tracks you follow in life!
bones Mar 2015
I've been watching
the band for
so long
I can dance
like I almost
belong
and I've learned
every word of
the song
but I'm ******
if I'm singing
along...
bones May 2014
Using silence as the means
to express his dismay
he was going to make a statement
and say nothing all day
but his mother just assuming
he had nothing much to say
sent the silent revolutionary
back outside to play.
Outmaneuvered by his mom
and her total disregard
for his wild campaign of muteness
the rebellion fell apart
peaceful protest hadn't worked
he should have guessed right from the start
it makes no difference when you're quiet
if no-ones listening very hard.
Back when I was a nipper my parents moved us away from our home in the city. I didn't speak to them for weeks. They either didn't notice or were  more practiced in the art of psychological warfare than me. I suspect the latter

Early learning..

Using silence
like a megaphone
to broadcast his dismay

he tried
to make a statement
without speaking for a day

but his mother
just assuming that
he'd nothing much to say

sent her silent
revolutionary
son outside to play;

outmaneuvered
in the kitchen
by his mother's disregard

for the planned
campaign of muteness,
his rebellion fell apart

to the sound
of scuffing shoes
and the grumble in his heart

cos peaceful protests
tend to lose
when no-one's listening very hard..
bones Feb 2016
Blowing silence
like a bugle
to announce his dismay

he got set
to make a statement
without speaking for a day

but his mother
just assuming
he had nothing much to say

sent her silent
revolutionary
son outside to play;

outmaneuvered
in the kitchen
by his mother's disregard

for campaigns
of wild muteness,
the rebellion fell apart

to the sound
of scuffing shoes
and the grumble in his heart

'cause silent protest
tends to lose
when no-one's listening very hard..
bones Nov 2014
Climbing slowly
up the back stairs
softly crossing
to the door
pushing gently
knocking empty
bottles to
the bedroom floor,
empty pledge
asleep on bedsheets
broken, blind and
in my chest
I can feel
an ageing drum's beat
marking time,
and emptiness.
(old one rebottled)
bones Oct 2014
Missing words
softly surge
through her silence
again
like long
soothing fingers
of whispering
rain
that soak
their way in
through her bare
thirsty skin
until
not a dry moment
remains
.
bones Dec 2014
Please will
you pull
all my poems
apart
whichever way
you think
is best
I don't care
if you pull
at them gently
or hard
I just
want to be
undressed
bones Mar 2015
She learned the story at school
of the son of the lord of us all,
and it has her convinced
though he's not been seen since
and he isn't returning her calls.
bones Jun 2014
There are those
who keep
their future rich
with uncertainty,
but Ive never
been more certain
of the one
that waits for me,
if I ever catch
Fate's finger
spelling out
whats going to be
then I'll wrench it
back to front
and start
re-writing history.
bones Oct 2014
......Breathing Space......
She left when she realised he
Was closing more doors than agreed
When he asked her for why
She said look at that sky
That's the breathing space my lifetime needs.

......Thoughts......
When they're finally free of their chain
And falling about you like rain
Don't be wasting concern
On a fear they will burn
They might not fall your way again.

......Next door's cat......
There's an old man next door in the flat
He shares with his skinny pet cat
Whilst nobody here
Has seen him this year
His cat's grown disturbingly fat.

......Popular......
Some people are popular folk
But none quite so much as the bloke
Who waits in the park
Each day after dark
Selling sweet smelling clouds of blue smoke.

......Dead Fred......
The problem with my Uncle Fred
Is he keeps coming back from the dead
'It's a bit ****** cold
Down in that hole
Stop putting me back' he said.

......Reverend Ted......
The problem with Reverend Ted
Is he keeps rising up from the dead
'Heaven and ****
are all very well
but I'd rather be home' he said

......Pop......
He was just building up to a scream
When his head fell apart at the seams
Days at a time
He had lost to that rhyme
Now he'll never find out what it means.

......Madman with gun......
I once knew a man with a gun
That he aimed everyday at the sun
As it sank to the ground
He fired off a round
And went to bed thinking he'd won.

......Madness pt2.....
The last man alive raised his gun
and declared open war on the sun
as it sank to the ground
he put the last round
through his head convinced he had won.

......Moondrops......
The night the moon started to drip
A silver drop fell from it's tip
And carved in the dark
The sweep of an arc
So fine we thought heaven had split.

......Holidays on the moon......
We holiday each year in June
On the back of a crescent moon
In a house made of cheese
Where you eat what you please
Last year I ate the front room.

......Gravity......
Ever since the day of my birth
I've been jumping for all that I'm worth
It's jolly bad luck
That gravity *****
When you're trying to leave planet Earth.

......Venus......
I've been asking directions to Venus
And it seems that the space in between us
Is an awful long way
So I'm leaving today
On a rocket that's shaped like a frankfurter.

......Martin's Limericks......
With a limit of only five lines
The first two of which have to rhyme
With the one at the end
Martin my friend
You nail it every time.

......My Poor Limerick......
From an ivory tower of prose
It's a long way to look down your nose
At my poor limerick
That you'd beat with a stick
If you could without creasing your clothes.
Thought I'd lump them all together, you might have seen a couple before...Sorry if so.
Thank you Martin and thank you Kalypso for your company :o)
bones Dec 2014
Do you remember
that midwinter night
the one with ice
in the air
the one that
we burned
until it
turned white
that nobody
else could
stand near
do you remember
the dance of
the slender
flames as they
tortured the cold
when they
were done
you glowed
like the sun's
tongue had been
licking
your soul.
bones Jun 2015
She leaves me
with secret flowers

each has
a broken heart

and purple petals
for me to hide

and memories
I can't ....
bones May 2014
I like the sound the rain makes
I like to hear it land
with the thunderous drumming
of a punk rock band.
I like it dancing off the roof tiles
tapping at the glass
tickling the fields
although its quieter on grass.
I like its change in rhythm
as it navigates trees
the ragged umbrellas
that Im standing underneath.
I like it playing percussion
on the surface of the sea
when the only people still outside
are listening like me.
I like the sound the rain makes
wherever it lands
I like the sound the rain makes
but I also understand
your devotion to the sun
so theres a possibility
if you listen to the rain fall
you might understand me.
and I quite like the wind too.
I like the sound the wind makes
blah blah blah. :o)
bones Oct 2014
When my years are
stretched thin like elastic

that is at breaking point
or just past it

I'll be glad that I keep
my best memories deep

in the grooves
of a black slab of plastic.
Good memories are made of vinyl. :0)
bones Oct 2014
Free flow the waters
of the river passing by,
though we thought
we'd caught her sleeping
when we heard their lullaby,
and though
with a thousand bridges
we bound her where she lay
still her waters pass like lifetimes
and we watch them slip away.
bones Jan 2017
There was an old world
that turned on it's head,

and shivered and quivered
and shook out the dead,

and shook off the living
and all of their stuff

til' all there was left
it considered enough,

and all there was left
was a world upsidedown,

and wind and whatever
had roots in the ground,

and fish with stern warning
to stay where they be,

down under the waves
of the quivering sea.
bones Jul 2016
Death stirs always like the wind
like something getting up to go,

and like the wind death doesn't
leave anywhere alone,

but where it is he travels with
whoever take his guiding hand,

gladly will I wait until
                     I die to understand ..
bones Aug 2015
Even the bones
she throws clenched
he thanks her for...
bones Nov 2014
I know
a man
with dirt
on his clothes
that
people avoid
wherever
he goes
he carries
a shovel
and everyone
knows
whenever he
digs
an epitaph
grows.
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