Sad as the kiss goodbye
the tears in the morning
the cold sheet
by the space
next to you.
Hope the phone's broken
there's no one calling
must have checked the volume
a million times.
In your mind
hope's replaced by wishful thinking
wakeful dreaming
feel like screaming
'cause next to you
was once a face
radiant as the sun in the morning
happy as the kiss hello.

Although they've antenna
I swear this snail fixed me with a look
that said,"listen buddy, you think you have it rough.
You don't know the half of it.
Now put me down, you're holding me up."

a hook of a moon
hanging low
burying itself into the dark soil of night ploughing methodically
churning the folds of time unsympathetically
despondent
weary
oblivious to the passing seeds
of thought
laboured over.
Should I expect more
from the ruts it rolls,
perhaps growth of understanding
or a crop of acknowledgment
for my wonderment of it?
Or is it simply a tool
to capture imaginations
of a fool who secretly belives
I have an intimate bond
with its silent magnificence,
perhaps wishing it looks at me
like a brother who shares this moment.

Gather my colours,
my shapes,
my heat
blend them
and mend them
make them complete.
Discard what offends
whats left you can keep.
I trust in the kindness of you

She considerately held a smile
and strained to conceal the strain
of politeness,
asking correct questions
with an ear of patience
conveying interest
to spare feelings from being hurt.
Though I held a mask
of being fooled by her falseness
we knew we knew
and yet the charade continued.
I admire her for that.

She never once asked why
I keep the twisted rosewood stick
or if it holds significance.
Or why Flann O'Brien's
"At swim two birds." has a place
by itself on the shelf.
She never understood my love
of jazz, metal or classical music
or wondered why
Hieronymus Bosch and Caravaggio prints
are in the hall.
She once said I should get rid of them all
"They don't match the décor."
She never understood the humour
of Leonard Cohen,
nor appreciate the raw beauty
of a Bukowski poem;
claimed they were just ***** old men.
She couldn't fathom why
I am drawn to decrepit ruins
or could spend hours just walking
without a destination.
She never will comprehend my love
for the ghostly hue of twilight.

Shallow pools
so still
filled with dripped dreams
long decayed.
Fearful whispered words
will echo under their weight.
Because not every circus has
a drunken clown,
nor revolution a song
and not every scream means
something is wrong.
It's a reticent forgotten poem
existing in an amorphic state.

Ain't saying it was a sign,
a definitive moment,
a blessing of bliss
or an ominous omen,
but just before we kissed
I noticed a full moon shining,
sound ceased
as if time was frozen.
And there's no other place
my thoughts chase
or my body's aching for.
Ain't stating planets aligned
bringing us to now,
a prophesy
or cast runestones
foresaw us somehow.

I ain't got no geise to violate
or solmn vows
to bestow upon a moment,
but if I was to believe in such,
I guess it would all make sense
for me and you
and to view this time as something that was meant to be.

She brushed the ash off her jeans, though managed to rub some in.
She separated the roses from the weeds, but a few petals ended up in the bin.
She tried to let him down gently, yet she managed to bruise his heart.
She is full of good intentions, but sometimes her plans fall apart.

The secrets of winter
give the deep dark redness
to the leaves of the crabapple tree.
I have no desire to prune or sculpt.
I am not wise,
but know enough not to try.
Rooted steadfast
yet its limbs sprawl wild
as if defying me.
Planted when I wed.
Imprisoned yet free.
My love for thee.

Birds are singing a cappella
a lullaby
for your wilting light.
Drowsy flowers drooping
to doze
safely in petal folds.
Yawning colours are waning soft
in twlight's faded hue.
Night will come soon
to watch over you.
Sleep well my dear day.

T's a winter's night and all around
a bitter wind is howling.
Collar's up,
but my mood is down,
I've whiskey enough for drowning.
Cursing my luck and cursing some more
the name behind my feelings
as I walk the grounds
memory's found
a different colour to your eyes.

T'was a summer's day and swallows swooped on sunbeams and lovers laughing.
My spirits were high,
but my heart suddenly sank like stone
cos you said you were leaving.
I begged and swore, prayed and begged,
but you gave me not a reason.
Hopeless the tears
my living fears.
You left swifter than a bird in the sky.

T'is been brittle years and lonely roads my weary feet have been travelling.
Legs keep me up,
but my soul hangs low,
yet I've never stopped my searching.
You flew with my heart
and my heart's stayed with you.
Never will it come returning.
Tramping these roads
has worn out my soul
wishing your memory would fade
and die.

The first blushes
of dawn
fragment mascara line silhouettes
of morn.
Powdered breath
caught in light kisses
of fading neon.
A turned up collar's
no substitute
for bed's warmth.
Heavy eyes loll lingering on
fresh passages
of the passing night
And how two bodies lied
to lie together
for a while.
Shadowing secret
hooded lips concealing
nakedly honest smiles
enough to make the dawn blush

No one's gonna come

looking for you under a rock

don't have
such luck
                       wishful waiting won't pick
                you up
for someone to love
you give them something to love
        if you always hide away
                     no one will know what you got
Think it's time to shake
                           up
this place


                           paint yourself
fill up the space
might go against
      every ounce
of your self worth
but
                   if what your worth
               is worth it

                                     GIVE IT
a chance.

           Blind them all.

Didn't mean to rip the picture, but we were so mad at us ...no, so scared
and sad.
Didn't mean to shout, but we were yelling at us...no, primal scream
this shouldn't be happening.
Didn't mean to use those words, but we were being mean to us...no frustrated
and losing touch.
Didn't mean to walk away, but we forced us...no refused to be pushed
to proud because we trusted
in us.
Didn't mean to take so long to apologise, but we needed space from us....no, time to readjust
see how we felt away from us.
Didn't mean a thing to be only me and you...no, we need to be us
confessed it is true

I wear this second skin
writing secretly
in the jaws of night.

Reticent thoughts
shyly accumulate in ink
unravel and take flight.

Though to others
they may be worthless
void of craft and lack insight.

Each one is a delicate
Part of me
I have the right to write.

A picture may paint a thousand words, but a word can communicate a thousand images.

River hardened stones
cobble the road
centuries old
like polished bones
of the countless souls
that have roamed.
What stories they've told
what memories they hold.
adding mine to their load
a passage of one travelling home.

She said,
"From thirty feet away
after a bottle of wine,
double G and T
and without my glasses,
you look oddly handsome."
Before adding
"In a certain dull light."

All in all I took it as complement :-)

The kindle worked
its charm on the coal
tempting its soul
to unite in flame.
Outside shrieked
the wind and rain
calling my name,
but the windows and doors
were closed
and worried eyes counselled me to stay.
Thinking of older, darker days,
"Cast ye back to the depths from whence ye came."
A fist shaking in mocking scorn
at the storm.
The rain continued on
for the rest of the day
as the fire danced
and fell in love
with its flames

Has anyone else just heard a bell toll?
Am I the only one?
Have they been ringing long?
Is there meaning in their song?

Don't hate you,
but you're beginning to bug me
like a hangnail snagging a jeans pocket or a wind-chime in a gale.

Don't hate you,
but you're grating my nerves
like a headcold when I'm out of tissues or having to break a fifty cause I'm eight pence short on change.

Don't hate you,
but you're wearing me down
like a hole in the sole of my only boots when it rains or an intrusive question asked again and again.

Don't hate you,
but I'm getting there.
Don't want to get there,
please leave me alone

Regrets settle on a memory
like dust on an abandoned cobweb
out of reach
to wipe cleanly away.
It's an eye sore
you ignore,
but it's always there
when you try to overlook it.

Leaves me out to graze
wandering aimlessly on fields of
'When are you coming back?'
Left to lap from streams of
'Will you call?'
Just a pathetic pet wallowing in its basket
looking longingly at the door,
hoping every passing noise
is a sign of her.

So happy I could run
just to keep up with my dreams,
Teaseing gravity with each foot spring,
knowing I could leap to the clouds
if I wanted to.
But then i'd have to leave the world where you walk and lay down,
So I stay as close to you as distance will allow.
Is each drop of dew
the
residue of the wakeful night missing you
while you sleep,
is the horizon line the eyelid of dawn creeping open just to look at you?
I'm so happy I could run because the touch of earth confims you are real,
like a pinch for confirmation or a kick from a mule.

A timble of breath
spills with her "yes"
eyes respond honestly
yet
edged with a trickle of nervousness
as her fingers trace
contours of flesh
along forearm and bicep then leap to cup
nape of neck
and lure tentative steps between distance of our lips. And lids close out the rest
as the kiss inhales a timble of my breath

Heart hard and worn as an old cemetery flag-stone.
Relationships were dead and buried there,
lovers long gone.
It can't help but mourn.
Does so alone
in lost hours.
Unexpectedly it stumbles upon
regrets thought flown,
hopes toppled down
and echos the loss of someone.

I rested on a bench on a bank of a canal.
The grey steady sky gradually broke blue.
It was cold, but the sun soon shone through
thawing the chill from my bones.
A sparrow landed beside me on the green metalic seat.
Glanced at me once then eyed
the debris gathered by my feet.
Not spying any decent morsels to eat,
it took to the sky and flew.
As I watched it go
I heard my soul whispering,
"please take me with you."

Your heart's a holster,  
your love the gun.
If I'm a wanted man
I'll not run.
If you're gonna shoot,  
best, shoot me down
by high noon
or the light of the moon,
or with a smile
..

Catch you
my breath,
shambolic hope,
flustered thought.

Take you:
glimmer kissed tear,
aphotic state,
penny drop.

Hold you
my ridicule,
cowardness,
dreary repetitive wish.

Their weight devours me so.

He tossed his radio out the window.
95 piece orchestra and composer
hurled through the air.
As Wagner crashed
he cracked open a bottle of wine
to take his mind off
his hatred for the predictable.
Then her ghost came to him
like he knew she would;  
to haunt him,
to taunt him.
Though there was nothing scary
about her cool milky thighs
sliding out of a butter yellow skirt.

She skirts a dirge
skimming dregs
of a memory.
Keeping to shallow,
bearable,
remnant depths.
Sapient steps
with vigilance she threads.
She'd drown
if submerged.

Colours were flattened beneath
a dull stretch of graphite sky.
Its cloak dampened the dimension
of nature's vibrancy,
trapping an uncomfortable
heavy warmth void of wind's sigh.
Birds couldn't manage a chirp
nor dogs a bark.

Weighted limbs sprawled
from lifeless bodies
drained of energy.
Lazy eyes lolled
in attempts to peruse
a tree's limp leaves
in hope of movement
urging them
for a sign of relief.
Those eyes soon retreated
to drift and dream
behind weary lids
which sank
as silently as the absent sun.

We were close once
thick as thieves
less the thieft.
Apart we did drift.
Our rafts were too different.
Floating on consequential seas
as time dictated the tides
and faithful lovers where we moored.
Now even constellations glimmer strange to each other.
Nought in common anymore
except where we started from
along the same stretch of shore

Mildew bruised walls
dappled spread of white
between damp
black patches
spaning cinderblocks
beneath dry-rot rafters
supporting rusted
corrugated tin roof
worn thin and
pricked with holes.
Facing me and fantasy
they transform and morph
to marble rich castle walls
draped with bold tapestries
dripping crystalline feathers
from golden vaulted ceiling.

A fool sings a bard's song.

Snapdragon prints on a summer cotton dress
Your body gave them vibrance when you danced,
your laughter gave the petals sweet fragrance,
your bouquet
a shroud of decadence.

I listen to the day's fall
the reverberations of fading bird's call
and children ushered in for the night, neighbours' cars pulling into the drive, faint light switches flicking on,
roller blinds pulled
curtains drawn.
It all happens in reverse
come the morn
when the last of the night falls
into dawn.

Somber swings
a dismal edged guillotine
Severing possibility.
t's a bitter sharp taste to a dream
when prospects are soured by reality

She plays "Misty"
for me
slowly
drifting into its veil
merging with waves
of minors and major-7s.
The passion of her
closed eyes
swoop and rise of brow
gentle sway
mouthing notes
playing from memory
lost in its depths
as I am in hers,

".....look at me..."

Her smile was the most hurtful thing.
It suddenly awoke him from a perfect dream.
Swatting away razor sunbeams
from cutting him down to earth.

Coffee turned cold,
tray full of butts.
The play of her mouth
was a kick in the guts.
If somebody asks what's wrong
he'd make something up.
Truth be told nobody would.

At least being alone he'd only have to lie to himself.

She wasn't perfect,
he knew too well
though she was perfect for him
like a chime and a bell,
but now her smile could go to hell
so too her choice of another.

she sits
cigarette lit
drinking down
a bottle or two.
I sit
opposite
sipping upon my view.
Close night
shared eyes
fireside
candle light
bodies abide
what they do.

There is a countable
distance between
the silence
where I sit
and the street
where I see
a mobile cacophony
of pedestrians
of various speeds
and multiple gaits.
From singular  
to numerous bodies
together and apart.
A part of me wants
to join them
apart needs
to avoid them.
So I count the distance
between voices
and my thoughts
silently
hush now
urging them all to stop
and embrace the nearest one
and say without words
life can be beautiful
if we allow.

Into air
her whispering whisped
in unison with
waiting wishes
and prayer.
They gather where
high winds howl in dispair.
Perhaps you've heared her song.
Or joined your hope to its chorus.