Cast her head back
she's got a neck for kissing
through nicotine fog and neon high
when the drinks are flowing.
can spend a time there
enjoying and forgetting.
Just a spot needing scratching.
It's lacking affection
lost to notions of devotion.
Stepping sober in the land of the living when the tinsel of a night has settled
the taxi off loads you
to a chilly morning kerb.
There awaits a hollow echo of the hallway
when the door latch slots home.
cool bed catches your fall.
No arms, nobody, no 'good mornings' with a kiss
The turn of summer's end
already caused ailing leaf's stems
to tremble and quiver
one last hand, one last trailing touch before a final
release on high wind,
the leaves descend
transcend in their death
back to the earth which gave birth
a bittersweet rejoice
as colours and ribs fade to dust
and return to soil
to feed the tree nutrients for life.
Black daisy chains
lighter than a shadow
loop my lover's neck
like promised kisses for tomorrow
and if kisses were years
I hope mine never weighs you down
The brittle voice of your footsteps on grass
under heavy winds drag
would have went amiss,
but I listened for this
our pace still kept in step
crossing the blanket of green
between the trail
of one conversation's lull
and the delicate start
of the next.
Time's a fox
your a rooster in a coop
Untill it gets to you
do what you **** a doodle doo.
Love's a bird
your among seeds scattered all around maybe it'll gobble you down
or you'll sink alone into the ground
Joy's a whale
you're a barnacle trying to hitch a ride
got to wait for the turning tide
got to hope for the right side
A world away
bridged by a page
only as strong
as the weakest ink
What do we do when the shadow's pressing against our hope
or dragon tails whip our thoughts into a frenzy
when we struggle to walk a straight line
on paths that twist and contort?
How do we ignore the vices and voices
that mock and entice us
or lights that would blind us
from the sight of the righteous?
How do we utter our words to a lover
when doubt trips us to stutter
knowing we should speak better
but the truth is smothered to a mutter
like a snuffed candle's last splutter
or spittle from a kiss interrupted?