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4.7k · Sep 2015
Old Toy
Of simple plastic
made with screws and with transfers.
The fads of old youth
banished high upon the shelf
now a plaything for the dust.
3.8k · May 2016
Never the popcorn
Never the popcorn
for a story untold,
little victories alone
that never unfold.

Never any applause
for a story unheard,
all the joys of day
and yet not a word.

Never saccharine sweet
the story unshared,
so chatter aloud
and let no one be spared.
2.4k · Sep 2016
Grandeur
How sweet the linen
that grandeur weaves,
unseen by other's untrained eyes,
yet seemingly hard to sew
into the fabric of our own
immediate lives.
2.2k · Feb 2017
Deer loved one
Deer loved one

Please bear with me,
owl bee with ewe as soon as possum bull.
Rhino that things have been on paws lately
bat remember I toad you;
Toucan always find me some plaice warm in your heart
if I'm not lion there beside you.
Giraffe nothing to fear, no one can break the lynx we've made.
Mine is a love that'll never panda, narwhal it
hound any other sole but jaws and yours alone.

You're the porpoise I wake up every morning.
Wren all otter things are bleak, you're my ray of sunshine.
You let minnow weevil always have each other.
With you, newt time passes but stops still.

Love you with vole of my heart
ant i'll never desert you.
Until hen Gobi good

Yours truly
...
2.2k · Jun 2015
Two ships passing
Our love all at sea
where the waves come crashing.
We're not in the same boat
we're two ships passing.
2.1k · Oct 2015
Know hope
'I know hope' knows hope
from understanding
no hope at all
The soft crackle of sand
pail under moonlight,
lapped up by an ocean's returning tongue,
time and again.
Waves hello.

Look above.
You will see fireflies in plain view
yet static and beyond the the reach of hand,
then I remember the promenade clearly
where yours once found gaps in mine.
Ambling parallel to the shore, with a grip
the sea could not part,
but the word 'forever' could not anchor.
Waves goodbye.
1.4k · Sep 2015
Gentle is the night
Gentle is the night
after a day's boiling over,
now bathed in small hours
drifting closer to morning.

Weight on my mind
falling softly on eyelids.
A passenger for a pillow
and a meal for the blankets.

...and gentle is the night
when no words are spoken,
for when day break calls,
you again will be broken.
1.4k · Mar 2017
Pi
1.3k · Jan 2017
The Runaway Moustache
Ol' Mr Rilash
the authority on panache
and once chef of Ben-Ash,
had neglected to trim his tash.
It itched and made him scratch;
Unhappy on upper lip.
A plan, a plan it hatched.

...then one time in the kitchen
on a snoozing Mr Rilash.
His tash did something brazen,
or silly or quite brash.
It pulled away and dashed
crawling through plates of mash
and hopping over paprikash
it made it to the window ledge
via the crockery left stashed.

Was it brave or was it rash,
the escaping captive tash.
Leaping and waiting for the splash,
It saw it's trajectory down below;
and landed squarely in the trash.
1.2k · May 2017
Last chance to see
Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.

After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.

That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.

Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.

How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.

They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.
1.2k · Jul 2015
In what you don't say
What do you tell me?
When you tell me I'm okay.
It's what you don't say;
left between you and your four
walls that I want you to state.
1.1k · Feb 2017
Pamplona/Iruna
No rush of the bulls
filled these narrow cobbled streets
where tradition and
songs sounded over pinxos,
and stories of San-Fermin.
1.1k · Sep 2017
Italian Friend
She prides herself an hourglass
yet never long enough, this body of time.
sharing conversations,
you'd otherwise be sharing with the wine.
It made the day's last leg's cross over
in my mind.

Be more than only snapshot dearest friend.
You are a focus in the lens, who lends
her smile.
And though, a distance shears
word salads by the mile,
just know the love you bring
stays with me all the while.
1.1k · Nov 2016
Power
He who can balance the words
'power' and 'limitations' in his hands;
understands soundly
the definition of responsibility
and it's burden upon his shoulders.

To rule the world justly
is to bare the labours of Atlas.
1.0k · Jun 2016
Man
Man
It's not how many times I  retreat,
it's how many times I come back
that makes a man of a boy.
980 · Sep 2015
Magpie
One for sorrow
seeks another,
for whose company
longing to borrow.
885 · May 2016
Sublime
This is what I know of crushingly reckless beauty in
that which overpowers us like a wild storm at sea
or the impossible mountain;

The Devil is in the detail but God is in the whole picture.
Stepping with strides that will soon
fade like passing tumbleweeds and
trains long passed,
is the person unknown who travels
yonder their familiar blanket of sky.
Searching for what you'd assume
are answers to unresolved
questions, they find confidence
in treading uncertain new grounds;
gaining reasons to love and love stronger.
Ever the rolling stone shuffling to
avoid a life that goes south, so that
an end is met with fulfilment when
body and soul head upwards and north,
long after the telling of the last
adventure.

I, the person you have yet to meet.
Who roams for to settle one day in
richer surroundings;
knows such innate yearnings of the
heart and mind that others have
not the ties to satisfy.
845 · Apr 2016
Shift Patterns
Everyday is but time managed by the sun and the moon,
and their clocking-in cards
From the boy weighing up his
evening with her...

"When I'm with you
I'm the heavyweight champion
of weightless

...When I'm not
I'm just dead weight."
822 · Feb 2017
Captain
Walk with me if you dare,
keep up with me if you can.
I want the universe to look down on us tonight
on both you and I,
not as separate entities
but as two anomaly's collided,
though your side of the bed is empty;
in time it will fill
with someone whose light and dark matters.

Wherever your lone star is,
I want the universe to show you a small world
whose gravitational pull
occupies the space between my arms.
788 · Dec 2016
JeaLOVEsy
Who of you know
love such as this?
Such love that lives
in lying aloof on long nights
in waves of worry,
weary of losing
love such as this,
that can cause such loathing
from joy to joyless.

In knowing,
in not knowing
and in tides of enchantment,
Love such as this
tears and tears up in our eyes.
Such love that is blinding
or fragile or lies,
lies misunderstood;
this love envious
and fried.
784 · Oct 2017
When door is closed
To propose
a repose,
with the one I am close;
nose tipped
on nose,
and not a trace
of our clothes.
Who steals the moon?
or does it just fall?
Fleeting softly of its own accord;
if I could tie it with string,
I too could be swept soundly abroad
735 · May 2017
Childhood
The times we were small
we'd Flock to the swings,
when boxes weren't boxes
but other world things.

one day you'd be pilot
flying west of the star,
until you grew up
and settled for law.

cartoons and a bike seat,
jarred candy and trees;
the times we were small is
time we can't freeze.
727 · Mar 2017
Biography
life before the pages being written
is potential

Life in mid-sentence
is a form book

Life after publishing
is homage
686 · Apr 2017
Calloused hands
Kind hands learn to be calloused hands
under the thumb of others,
and around the fingers
of heathens mistaken for lovers.
681 · Jun 2017
The sweetest honey
Bear with it
never Panda,
in the end
that gathers you
the sweetest honey.
675 · Sep 2015
1 a.m. we meet again
My head is at work,
with unrest on my shoulders.
My feet feel like lead
and my bones are like boulders.

My body is pinned,
I am lying awake
and so 1 a.m.
I greet thee with '**** sake'
She paints the sky with arrows
that lurch into my skin,
such departure from the heavens
blown as kisses in the wind.
662 · Apr 2015
Nightfall
The sky bruised a red
before the dusk ate the light.
High up in the north,
I watched the jewels cutting holes
to share the sea with the moon.
655 · Nov 2017
Hypergamagpie
Though magpies they are,
love birds they be.
And oh so, drawn to shiny trinkets.
Content was he,
yet his offerings of humble stolen objects,
that could stop her gawking could not
stop her gawping,
for ill affordable gold.

Though magpies they are,
love birds not quite.
happiness was of material dependance
in particular her new flame;
an open window and a pendant.
She fled for warm jewels
but found only cold steel.
A pursuit for prettier rings
befalls a neck that is wrung,
by bigger predators
with human hands,
and by greedy choices
that shun the real gold in others.
Exhausted.
His head slunk into the headrest
in the window seat. A stark contrast
to the eager little engine he could see
clinging to the plane wing; rumbling
with childish excitement.

The trolley rolled back and forth through the isle
a few times. He could wait no longer.
In his backpack a letter sat, with words
from the one he loved.
Hunching back down in his seat he slowly
and nervously unfolded it.
His inhales heavy at his gut,
where after scanning a few lines with his tired eyes,
his heart rocked against his rib cage.
He hadn't finished. He couldn't.
Folding it back up he hunched further forwards
with his head in his hands.

All the burdens of Atlas paled to the strain he felt,
everything dark and everything  a lead weight right now,
he wanted to read the letter to it's end.
Was he strong enough to keep it together?
He wasn't sure.

...He had too!

Opening the letter he continued.
Those last lines.
Tears ran to the exit, the **** walls had fallen.
Like a toddler with a stubbed toe he succumbed to a
hopeless chorus of wailing and sobs.

He was a King in his new life, a ruler of all he surveyed,
something he could never be at home.
Why did things have to fall apart?
How!?

Those last words ringing like a bell
as he lay there like a defeated adversary.
"I love you forever and always"
651 · Jan 2017
Standards
650 · Mar 2017
Little Weissel
Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.

Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.

King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.

For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.

Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.
These are moments
monuments were made for;
The times you love me like your last breath
and hold me like your last hope.
These are moments I'd mirror for you
forever and always.
Your active fingers
stringing sentiments to me
spoken through text speak,
yet you can't text those same lines
from your lips to my close ear.
627 · Oct 2017
Beware the Anna Conda
Beware the Anna Conda
of Boa Vista;
So easy to coil up
in those snakes for arms,
so deadly to be bitten
by those snakes for charms.
623 · Dec 2017
Love dressed up as love
Love dressed up as love
hits you like a train,
but you'll relish such collision
over anything less,
dressed up as the same.
590 · Jan 2017
Your own portrait
Dear kid you are the picture
of heart on well worn sleeve.
You oiled every wave of
raw emotion
and etched it on your own face.

Each time you draw a tear
the cascades fill your sorry eyes.
Far cry from masterpiece,
or symphony
but your truest portrait caught in time.
584 · Jun 2015
You
You
Behind you are only the lessons learned,
ad
Here** in the now.
Idolize who You have Become.
Only you can be the Youniverse
you wish to be.

Be Younique be-You-tiful
and never let meaningles Theys
Dictate your days.
580 · Oct 2017
Beyond the fog
You and your engine
deep in your chest, walk strange paths
and hope for the best.
572 · Nov 2015
Break bread
It's important you know,
not to break bread with everyone.
Some are made of sour dough,
and some live just to make it.
570 · Aug 2017
Being different
I see a lot of things people miss,
and am a lot of things;
those people don't see.

...even though sometimes
I want them to.
549 · Sep 2017
Play Dead
Sometimes I'm awake,
thinking about all the thinking
that holds me from sleep,
and I lie there and ponder
why i'm lying there asunder
just a little too tired to weep.

Sunlight probes my eyes
come the morning,
a Monday calls my limbs to move
but i'm dead weight not shifting
though the sand of time is sifting
but i'm playing dead, lying aloof.
548 · Mar 2017
Bull by the horns
This is what I know of strength;
Its running headlong into detractors,
standing in the ring while the smoke clears,
then embracing the epiphany
when you can admit to yourself;

'I didn't know I had that in me.'
545 · Sep 2017
DevOceans Apart
To her who knows who she is.

I realize If you Donetsk in this world you don’t get,
so I thought about it Turin those nights away.
My mind would Rome.
As in to walk Cologne down Rhodes
my feet haven't wandered Faro while.

It seems you have the Kiev my heart,
Zagreb a Piza it in the Palma your hand,
Nevada let go but to keep for all time.

I’d been longing for York kiss,
Hungary to have you Lyon next to me;
thinking how Nice it would be
for you to Guinea your arms,
And wrap them around my Jersey.

Reno that in the Split of distance,
we are hanging on to;
‘We Chelsea how it goes.’
I Bern a little Kos knowing
Havana wait for those crucial words means
I don’t get to Hanover a love
you’d never get Bordeaux having.  

When Ireland and you Symi
you’ll see that I don’t Minsk my words.
You’ll sea I was never in the-Nile,
so Danube worry about that.
I want to Brighton your days
and Tokyo somewhere we could be
kings and Queens.

I hopes that where this Texas;
we’d be eventually
Edinburgh place to call home.

Gdansk and Lodz of love….


You know who
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