There is something about these walls

Which makes me feel elated

It fills the empty halls

Of my mind

It's just so much closely related

To me, it's become a part of me

It's a part of my memory.



Walls are white, blank and emotionless

But these walls are different for me

When I touch it, I hear voices

Of laughter, cries and victory,

Everything that I went through

Now a memory

Trapped inside these empty walls

The bleak, chipped off plastered walls

Are not just made of bricks

They are for me made of thick, thick,

Experiences, gone through so many situations,

It has eyes and ears

And with it a heart so sweet,

And when I place my ear against it,

I could hear it beat.



Yet there are times when we have to leave,

When we have to move away like always,

When after all these joys we have received,

We have to make a different choice.



Away we go from the heart-full being,

Trapping away our memories

In these bleak and empty walls,

We fill our emotions, and without withdrawal,

It seeps away everything,

And keeps away our secrets

Forever with it.



The walls aren't just white bricks,

They are a part of someone's incomplete soul,

We don't know what someone hid,

Under it before they went away,

If you don't believe that walls keep secrets, walls have hearts too,

Then go to them and just try whispering, "Hey."

You ask me
To snap out if it
Like it's a choice
Like I'm hurting
By desire
And not a compulsion
Fate has
Bound me with

You cry
For all these materialistic things
Your teeth have gaps
And you had to get it fixed
I cry
Because I have seen a mother
Trying to get through
Her son's epileptic brain
And let him know
She loves him.

You say you know
The pain I must feel
But can you
Can you really?
I remember all the times you were there
But I also remember the majority of nights
When you were not

I had to battle alone
All those days
Darker than most of the nights
You were busy
Getting laid

my issues
Were downplayed
And I was blamed
To be the one
Eclipsing your happiness
And I apologised
Who needs razor blades
Your words
Make deeper cuts
And no one can even see the harm

I was fine before
Always Maintaining my distance
As if the plague inside me
Will create havoc
The moment I
Get near a happy soul
I'll infect them
With the misery
That I am

But you were different
You gave me hope
You showed me there was another way
And just like that
I thought I was saved
But I was not
The flood came
When I was fully assured
You were the life boat
And you were gone.


You were an illusion
I mistook for pure magic
You were the toxicant
I hoped would cure me
You gave me hope
Only to ****** it
Away from me
And the walk back home
All alone
Has never felt this lonely

Why did you hold my hand
Only to let me go
Why did you give me shelter
Only to kick me out
When I get used to the warmth
Why did you assure me
You'll be here
When that was never the part of your plan

And now I look at the mother of epileptic kid
Whose pain lasted longer
Than she ever will
Her eyes have lost their light
She is oblivious to my hands
Holding hers
Don't you dare tell me
It gets better
Cause it never does

I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door

Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is

whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone

is Hannah home?
I ask

I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me

jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat

yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says

and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step

I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked

I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear

sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks

thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say

do I need money?
she asks

just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream

I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer

Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks

fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies

no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both

are you sure?

yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to

so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square

she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut

we walk down the *****
and up Meadow Row

I ask her how her father is

she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says

-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-

we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes

she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.

I like to write when drunk and high,
that's when emotions run.
Sometimes I even find it nice,
to set ink when I get spun.
Alcohol is lubrication,
when my thoughts are just too bound.
The ******* see's acceleration,
words just flow when I get wound.
I'm  not an addict or a shmuck,
I'm a pretty simple man.
Just one who's more than down on luck;
my whole life has strayed from plans.
Yes I'm often found inebriated,
I hope you'll excuse the current condition.
It just seems to me while obviated,
I adopt a cleaner disposition.

Au(Or)al Tune
When (O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity knocks –
            Ah, pour that tune into me
               n(O)t
just write or speak
            but
                        /zIg:zAg/
            gut--
                        --teral mut--
            --ter yarns
                        With
Mouth-churn--
--ing-beat-lick--          
                        --ings.


Half-grown seedling ([her]bal:e(X)ssen(10)ces)
                                    into sm(O)ke
adolescent (O)re worn from being p(o)(o)r—
                      it was nE(X)CESSary for:
battles
birds
beats
b(O)(O)ks
bottles
bucks
b(O)nes
boys
bei­ng(bad)


sm(O)ke-rings w(ear)y with surr(end)er      
      stripped
            v(O)wel
                    for
                       v(O)wel
thr(OU)gh the yawn: (O)nly
            “(O)h.”

             (O)h
              … foll(O)ws

                        the
You’re w(or)th-knowing-ONLY-(O)nce
            type of l(i)ke.
VERSE/VERSUS: the
You’re-w(or)th-knowing-AT:LEAST-(O)nce
            type of l(i)ke
VERSE/VERSUS:
                        for (u)s

it’s the worst type of verse
                        when it’s
            them:VERSUS:us
                     (verses)

likewise -- (O)r worse --
it should really be about//
      a bad in (u)s: Y(O)U:ME


(O)h after a
                        kn(O)ck
(O)h after a
                        t(u)ne:://
(end)-verse
for worse – it’s an
(end)-versus-us
                        type of verse.


(O)ppo(u)rtun(e)ity
            pouring
            ringing e(X)cesses
like
                     ear-worms to
                     hear words to
                     heat hearts.

Ah::rest that mouth-verse onto me.
            (restful//fluster)
Ah::rest that mouth
            (silent//listen)
soulless gall(O)w r(u)ng
lipless v(O)wel sl(u)ng
            like
ARTS::between::STARS
            then
VOICES RANT ON::into::CONVERSATION
            then
PAYMENT RECEIVED::yet::EVERY CENT       PAID ME

worst-verse:
           Y(O)u//like hanging
                        your dipTH(O)NGS
on (O)pportun(e)ity’s d(O)(O)r
            like
                        sm(O)ke-rings
            like
                        being(bad)
            like
                        Y(O)U:ME
            like
                        (O)h. n(O).

(end)-verse:
worst-verse:
            L(I)ttle.Kn(O)wn.V(O)wel::
            n(O)(O)se big for (u)s

            ALL.

Bungalow bunkie,
Doth thou awaken or sleep to thy dust you accumulate?

Captious are one's these slothful ciggarrete nights!!!

Electrolight,
Come near that I may feel warmth,
As a child in early birth I seek forane high class milk,
Footlights on stilts do the the actors take high position!!
Not seeking the inefficient,
But the tower of Babel gone lost!!!!

Injurious kirtles are kinless,
Thy best friend is now friend less,
Due to thine own kindness!!!!

Lamb-kin darling,
Canst thou lance these burns to cuts?
For what's missing in the soot?
Lamenting chalice...

A king and a queens palace I'll die to live in,
For a smile and a grin cannot be weighed!!!

Hay/fever will take the fidelity of what's polite!!!

Damoclean of wintergreen,
Do you flatter by ones self?
Or doth thou Get help from dandering blotters!!!!

Intimate plotters of murderer's and lost hopes fun!!!
Chatoyant skin doeth I wish to feel once,
Where thy stage is real_,
No stunts!!!!!

Just reality of cavern lathered seducing!!!!

To see everything
Watching.
So devoted because following one line is the deepest point
Achievable.
To be a ****** but to keep the ***** and lose the mouth.
For this being's words to never harm another.
It says, "Remove my judging apparatus.
I don't want it and I can't turn it off."
Gone and this man is less dangerous.
Protect him,
This brain in a tree,
With one branch as a pleasing uncircumcised love *****.