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 Jan 2014 Dave Bosworth
Connor
It feels  like I've been awake for three days,

My mind's cluttered, my life's fluttered

By like some butterfly lost in the waves

Of reality, I'm feeling lost and troubled,

Maybe I'm going crazy, my vision's hazy,

All they say is "he's been a bit down lately",

They're disconnected from my struggle,

They think I'm good as I've ever been,

They only see the smiles that I smuggle,

Out from the static black hole that is my soul,

The only thing that seems to fix me is seeing,

That pretty little lady sitting near me,

Then I leave, my body's a tree, and my emotions are the leaves,

They fall off, I'm dead and naked, left alone and bleeding,

My heart's aching, hands are shaking,

The life I've been making is falling apart with every minute that I've been forsaken,

My head's held under and I'm suffocating, I'll need resuscitation,

'Cause every breath I'm taking is is the stake in

My chest, and and for God's sake it's not gonna stop,

I'm stuck with this, I guess it's just the grand plot,

That this painful life of mine has been following,

So I suppose I'm just supposed to know,

That in the end I'm gonna get what I get,

And just like that my  life's set,

On a one way trip bound for suffering and let's not forget,

That there was once a time when I could stand tall,

When I wasn't sure if I could ever fall

Down to this low level that I find my self at now,

But that's just the way it is.
The noise of doubt
Poison to the mind
Caught between two worlds, one thin and the other stout,
Gravitating towards faith, a chorus for the blind?

Blotting out all the pessimistic contents,
Praying for a miracle
But, doubt keeps on knocking nonsense.
Graduate my faith to the temple’s pinnacle.

I loathe the tenor of dirges.
But, cherish the flipping of ancient pages-
That refreshment to my hopes,
And the tunnel to moonlight
Narrow escape from fright,
Blind to the future, lend me a pair of sight.

Ignorant to optimism, hand me a share of knowledge.
Dying to taste wisdom, paint gray my hair- merge my reason with age
Send my doubt to the grave.
Let faith redeem me, lest I become a slave.

Close doubt out of my imagination.
Lord, redeem me from the deafening silence of doubt,
Bitter like worm wood
Drown me in hope-hood…
Let faith be my confession,
For I loathe the noise of doubt.
The song of a confused soul
The car showroom warehouse unit has turned into a gym overnight.
Low lit lights
highlight the out-of-work-early
joggers and the two step, bought-a-new-ipod-for-this-run, sweaty runners.

Framed central in the glass,
they bounce on mountain passes
over Swiss clear rivers and
around back through
obscure European cities,
all whilst on the spot listening
to Radio 4 podcasts from the week before.

Low cut tops offer no support for the weary
and the lifting gloves of the man
at the back are fingerless and ripped,
unlike his overweight torso, though
his BMW makes him believe that
this warehouse unit on the outskirts of
Huddersfield is the Venice beach of the North.
coffeeshoppoems.com
 Jan 2014 Dave Bosworth
eb
inner circles
Warm nights, Cool covers, serene muscles

outlanders
Cool nights, warm covers, throbbing muscles


your life
clean windows, open doors, soft beds

my life
broken windows, slamming doors, broken beds


possibilities
you, me, apart

*impossibilities
us, we, together
Two people living life through one moment, "what could've been?"
 Jan 2014 Dave Bosworth
st64
stuck
 Jan 2014 Dave Bosworth
st64
standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself


1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we *spread it out
real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints

and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old

by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright

common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres


2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour

when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay


no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..



:)




S T - 24 Jan 2014
if you spromed, then I sprocketed
whiling away telubrious fallies
upon the jousters of Dorbeyville
canta-laughter and rent-a-carter

why.. hello, future..
see here, I light my smoke uncut
and dare to peer into you :)






sub-entry: footprints

whether the bells toll in odd-clang
wait for the crash of the cymbal
diffident-dreamer makes moves so small
no attention-seeking

when the waters run silent
beneath the rocks cavernous
and upon sandy shores

there, some footprints
of some erstwhile-reverie
a dream late last night
I felt you walk beside me

look again.. our footprints
and a plain-line
where you towed away my heart

open your hand, my friend
your life-line just grew some more
and what's that under your nails?
fine-grains of white mirage-sand

there's this key in the locks of time's braids
time to undo the plaits
 Jan 2014 Dave Bosworth
eb
Dear stranger,
I want to say I like you.
I want to say I like you
like no one I have ever liked before.

Dear stranger,
I want to but I won't.

Dear stranger,
I can't be sure it's you I like
or the thought of you
that just won't leave my mind.

Dear stranger,
I just can't
let myself hurt again
after what she did to me.

Dear stranger,
You & I are
in limbo.

Dear stranger,
You and I are
at different stages in our lives.
And many more excuses
of the impossibility of us.

Dear stranger,
I can't be
just another girl
for you.

Dear stranger,
I won't because I shouldn't

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
be involved with you
when you just had a break up.

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
love you this much
when we just met.

Dear stranger,
I shouldn't
feel this way
for another girl.

Dear stranger,
I won't
because you probably
don't know I exist

Dear stranger,
I exist
**I think
Of the many strangers:
each one different,
all the same.
When I first wake up in the morning
Its an instinct for me to think about you.
The picture of us to the right of my bed
And the letter you wrote me
Are the first things I see when I awake
From my dreams,
That also always involve you.
Throughout the day
I have constant reminders of things
That you do
Things that you said
And I sometimes see your face
On strangers wandering the roads.
On the nights when I'm
Exessively lonely,
I'll lay next to him and let him
Give his love to me
Just so I'm not so numbed
Just so I'm not so empty
And I'll close my eyes and imagine
Its your hands caressing me
And imagine
Its your eyes hypnotizing me.
Maybe I should have fought for you,
But I'd rather solve things with peace
So as if you were a dove in a cage,
Or a fish in a tank,
I realized it was not right to keep you
Trapped
So I set you free,
And now
an emptiness takes the place
Of where you once belonged.
Maybe I should have
Fought for you
But once I set you free
You were gone
In the blink of an eye
Forever out of arms reach
The Kraken

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.
All along the valley, stream that flashest white,
Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the night,
All along the valley, where thy waters flow,
I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years ago.
All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day,
The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls away;
For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed,
Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the dead,
And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree,
The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
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