The storm was raging outside my window,
Just before I left my bed,
But you were still sleeping,
Not wanting to wake,
And the seaside under my wardrobe
was collecting shells briskly.
The bedroom skies never sleep.
We used to paint Mona Lisa's,
Like plays on the stage,
Scribbling on the canvas
And we gave them as Christmas toys
To the vagabond that looked like James Dean,
Oh his life is was funny thing.

-Jamie F. Nugent

At mid-day,
you left work early to drive your father to hospital,
bad knees,
old bones.
Instead of saying a cheerful goodbye,
you simply say to turn off the machine after you have gone.
A few hours later,
you are sat with your poor old father,
in a hospital canteen,
smelling of chemicals,
over a brown wooden table,
slurping disappointing green soup,
bread not entirely fresh nor stale,
just too expensive.
Then there is the chime of your cracked sliver phone.
Pressed up to your ear,
you hear the sound of your partners voice,
unsteady but to the point.
She tells you tragic news.
After it's said,
you forget to say a word back,
or even to hang up your phone,
gripped in hand.
John,
poor poor John.
John who had worked at the factory
ten long years longer then you have,
he was ******* in knots,
******* in chains,
chains red rust with sawdust,
chains meant for hunks of wood,
not chunks of flesh,
not bone,
breakable hallow bone.
The boys had to cut the chains.
And they turned off the machine,
hours after you said to
and moments too late.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Wake up love,
Fur-coat on your tongue,
Wake up love,
Close together and far apart,
Dusty sleep in your eyes,
Restriction cut into fragments,
Morning fills streams of conciseness,
Last-night's dreams still falling from your head,

Dreams;

Sweet things, those dreams.


-Jamie F. Nugent

There we were,
The right place,
The right time,
Undercover of
Darkness,
Earlier then
Morningtide,
Alone in the
Twilight hours,
You and I,
So entwined.
Two pale moons
Shine from outside
The bedroom window,
The night plays her
Deceptions as we are
Tangled up in illusions,
As we stretch and yawn,
As I wait for the dawn,
My temptations explodes,
Desires breaking into pieces.

-Jamie F. Nugent

You are still there,
In photographs,in the back of my mind
I can't extinguish;
You are the song,stuck in my head,
I can't rid,these annoyingly pretty sounds,
Your volume tends to blare,full blast,
I can't set it aflame, because
It's so cold,impossible to grasp.
A hallow cup of poison, with it's
Cranberry juice taste, that's
So easy to swallow, that's
So hard to spit out.
You had to make yourself into a monster,
Just to scare me away,
But running away fixes nothing,
Nothing at all
Well,at least
Not for me.

Jamie F. Nugent

In the brisk night air of the city,
The crowd in the bar and the music
Spill out into the street like stale beer.

Sharing drinks and discussions
With Swedes and rock n' rollers,
Surprisingly found delightful.

No lack of slumber will slow us,
The nighthawks flying close over
The gulls swimming in the grimy river,

And on a second stolen glance,
Sometimes the world is so small,
So pleasurable, so far and so good.

-Jamie F. Nugent

The South African sun caused my
Eleven year old eyes to squint.
Sat in the stadium, my father and I,
Sweated and watched rugby;
A father - daughter tradition.
That Saturday afternoon was the final,
The stands were crowded and full,
Like a fish-tank ready to burst
At any moment.
In front of my father and I,
There sat a dark-haired woman
In a lose fitting jersey.
About forty minutes in,
She bent down, sudden and quick,
Her head, hitting her kneecaps,
She screamed her intense screams;
Muffled in her own bent body,
Some spectators thought her crazy,
She continued her whails, and soon
A small crowd grew in front of us,
One man pulled her straight in her seat,
Her hands, her face, her her legs and stomach
Were all drenched red with blood.
No one ever heard the gunshot;
They traced it back to its origin,
Two hundred meters away,
Fired from a building by the stadium.
The bullet just happened to land where it did,
And the game went on.


- Jamie F. Nugent

All I have to do is dream -
You sang in quivering vibrato ,
By the sparse light of a lamp
That shone phosphorescent
Onto your anatomy
All wrapped up loosely
In a black buttoned-up sweater,
Knee high socks and
Uncovered thighs,
Tender and shaking -
And if there is only -This-
Here, and now,
It is more then enough for me,
The fortress for two,
The cornerstone and
The dancer.

-Jamie F. Nugent

And tonight your house will be cold,

And tonight your mind will be clear,

And tonight your heart will be free,

And tonight, your fight finished, swift,

And this morning, you could not hold on,

So tonight, you will not have to.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Candles.
Must get candles.
Did I get them before?
Sure where was I before?

I was nowhere.
Biting chunks out of the doors,
lumps out of the floor.
Try as I might,
I can't leave.

Now?

Not in this.
The snow's falling sideways.
The state of it,
all nimble and white.

A lot of tears last night;
and tonight?
No great difference,
but perhaps it could be worse?
Worse than before
I was nowhere.
Among the thorns,
incorporeal save for the
trampling anvil of brambles
rambling, rumbling,
pricking against the flesh,
the skin, in it's
folds and ridges,
veins and arteries
underneath and within,
without scandal,
I wriggle and wrangle
Against those thorns,
their tight strangle,
and this incongruous
state of affairs of mine,
for now.

Must get candles.

Standing, ankle deep
In Snapdragons, through red lips,
She's spitting out  flames.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Oh what a band of brothers we were,
The fantastic fraternal eternal gang.

Long sun-soaked summer daze,
The bunch of us, sometimes
Sitting legs folded under a parasol,
Telling stories and jokes
Beyond our years;

And then water fights,
We, the little soldier boys,
Armed with plastic pistols,
Rainbow coloured balloons,
Or super soakers,
Nobody ever won because
Nobody ever gave in,
Everyone was soaked,
Right to the bone.

Near endless evenings,
We played on the green,
Football, tag, 42, curbs,
We played on the green,
Even when the cold stung us,
Even when our skin glowed blue,
We played on the green,
Only until our mothers
Called for us to come in,
Time for tea,
Then time for bed and
A Bo Peep.

Oh what a band of brothers we were,
The fantastic fraternal eternal gang.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I tried to work out the back of your mind,
Through a microscope eyepiece,
But just ended up gazing through a kaleidoscope,
I wanted to feel your skeletal notches, &
I wanted the scent of your perfume in my lungs, &
To look into your eyes;
Dilating in a summer sun.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Only tongues could tell,
Just what happened in this room,
From behind the sun.

-Jamie F. Nugent.

The people in the café
Walk in and out
And in and out -
The lunchtime rush -

With black crosses on their foreheads;
Under their fringes,
Below their hats,
Above their glasses;
They forget they are even there,
The smudged little ash X's and +'s
Little kisses,
Adding it up.

The little ✞ so close to their brains
Makes the funny looks they give me
For eating meat somehow louder
And more meaningful -
Eating meaning for lunch? Today?!
Sacrilege! Surely!
Utter upsettment,
For utter disregard,
For their rules,
For His rules,
Because that is not
How the game works;

Do they stop for a second
In consideration
That I am not playing
The game?


-Jamie F. Nugent

You're a summer's day
Our minds in this melody
In sunshine, Just drenched.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I met her first
in the afternoon,
in May,
When the streets
were crowed with people;
living their lives.
She stood leaning
on an old green postbox.
She was a friend of a friend.
She said she had seen
my face before somewhere,
I was not so sure, I undoubtedly
would have remembered hers.
Her face was like
an actress' from the '50's,
one that was usually
reserved in black and white or
preserved in monochrome,
Bette Davis style.
But nonetheless it
was there before me,
in youth and charm.
The way she spoke and
pronounced certain
words peculiarly,
she was very like
myself in that way.
Its been said,
that if you get everyone
on Earth to stand in a line,
one by one,
that you will never find
someone just like you.
But I think that
sometimes you
come close, and
I surmise that
I came pretty close
that day.
I wanted to tell her,
but did not;
Knowing how absurd
it would sound,
I grasped it inside.
She moved
when she spoke,
just a child would
be all jittery and
unable to stand
still after too many
sugary things.
Always, there was
that that hyper-activeness
running through
her body like
electricity.
But all the while,
her voice was silk.
She had my humor too,
anytime I made jokes,
she would laugh.
It was such a
brilliant laugh,
the kind that poured out
and poured
out in big bursts
and did not give a ****
who heard
or judged.
Even when she was
slightly smiling,
you could still
see her teeth,
perfect and white,
like a toothpaste
advertisement.
She was not afraid
to look anyway at all.
Her face was
naked without makeup,
she did not paint over
any blemish at all.
She knew that people
had their flaws,
and it was those people
who laid their
flaws bare to the world,
they were the ones
the brave ones.

- Jamie F. Nugent

If you are going to kick someone,
Use both feet.
If it looks like it is leaning,
Give it a shove.
Bend it until it breaks
And then bend it some more.
If you are going to shout,
Blow your lungs out.
If you are going to run,
Run fast and run far.
If you are going to jump,
Don't say when.
If you are going to love,
Love completely
And without an apology.
Just never regret
Or say sorry.

-Jamie F. Nugent

She thought to herself,
"What if I am tired
Of living in a dream.
What would it be like
To wake up and
Everything stayed as it did seem."
She needed light
For that was the way she dealt,
Though truly she felt
That eyes look more beautiful
In the dark,
For then you can not see
How much they lack a spark.
The more of herself
This moment is taking,
Inside she is surely not making
Anything worth keeping,
Only a future that is breaking.
The thought of this
Always leads to her shaking.
Will they ever come back to this place?
The light shines now on a figure
She swore she could trace,
Which she knows will ruin her heart,
Yet she loves the way it makes it race -
How that beating-heart of hers
Rushed swift like some
Rachmaninoff Concerto,
How that mind of hers,
Waltzed around the room,
Not-knowing where to go,
Into those arms, and just
Linger there like an overnight
Stay at a luxury hotel,
And she will go and come,
Like waves on the naked shore,
Swelling toward tenderness,
The sun is forever orange there-
Now the figure is in focus,
Rushing her off her soles,
She never asked where -

- Lola Rose & Jamie F. Nugent

The amount of times,
I've nearly burned this house down,
"Accidentally".

-Jamie F. Nugent

The amount of times,
I've nearly burned this house down,
"Accidentally".

-Jamie F. Nugent

I thought I heard you cry,
From the other side of this crowded room.
Though I could not see you through the crowd,
The sound is more clear and present
Then any other in this frowzy room,
Louder than the half-dozen doltish conversations,
Louder then the raindrops crashing on the window pane
Louder than the wind, as it howls outside threateningly ,
Louder than my own thoughts in my erratic head,
They scream "I did this", and yell " this is my fault".
Your would-be tears make me doubt myself
And question my very nature.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Cracks and chips off the Post Office pillars,
Concrete Angels wings, riddled with bullet holes,
Stand in the middle of Main Street.

Nine and ninety years ago,
Yet feeling like it was the day before my birth,
Just before my lifetime.

A ****** Sabbath to change everything.

There are many noble reasons
To shed one's blood
And give one's own life.

There are none to justify
Spilling the blood of another
And taking their one, only life.

And the philosophers,
During meek mid-mornings in April,
Were hanged without trial,
Gone judge nor jury.

Or sent to firing squad,
For the quicker, 'kinder' death.

But their deaths,
Slow nor instant,
Were not in vain.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Warm daze, when you wore flowers in your hair,
sleepless nights with your shawl wrapped 'round us both,
under glowing moon, paradise was there,
the blue of the night from the undergrowth,
down a dark garden, so far from daylight,
sharing the night with the sounds from the wild,
if the howls frighten you, I'll grip you tight.
With black flowing hair, in perfect mess styled,
take me to the beach, bury me in sand,
don't you know you are my approaching tide?,
the broken finger on the other hand,
for you, all of my doors lay open wide,
to places unknown and all things unplanned,
we'll hide there in golden castles of sand.

Warm daze, when you wore flowers in your hair,
Sleepless nights, a scarf wrapped around us both,
Under a June moon, paradise was there,
The blue of the night, from the undergrowth,
We're down in the dark, no sign of daylight,
We're here in the night, with sounds of the wild,
If the howls frighten you, then just stick-tight,
Your black hair, moonlit, perfect mess it's styled,
Take me to the beach, bury me in sand,
Don't you know you are my approaching tide?,
The broken finger on the other hand,
When there's no where to run, no where to hide,
We could live in castles made from the sand,
Wouldn't it be perfect and oh so grand?

-Jamie F. Nugent

Bent over double,
my spine crinkling
and made from tinfoil.

Like an old concertina,
you wheeze from
the stress of it all,
so do I, quietly
to myself.

You're startled upon
an anthill's discovery,
as if it were found in
a lover's rumpled bed.

Beetles clamber away,
away from the sweat,
from the sighs
given freely away
to Mother Earth,
or anyone who'll listen.

An emerald frog
springs from
a verdant patch,
into a wet ditch.

Unkind to the body,
is this toil,
but the thoughts roam,
like a pig in muck,
laughing,
if it could.

White cotton flowers
coat the ground,
like peckish gulls
         on a landfill,
or a sailor's corpse.

After tracks are made,
here left for there,
blood trickles
down shins,
knee-deep
in brambles.

The nest of the lark,
the hive of honeybee,
the owl doesn't dare,
the sweet tooth,
nor bare hand,
doesn't dare.

I go on walking,
with Quasimodo slouch,
feeling the spring
of the cracked ground,
kinetic and tepid,
under my own weight.

I could sleep
easy and dreamless,
away in a damp ditch,
pillow of frogs,
(still soft emeralds)
blanket of muck,
stiffening under
the sun on high,
shimmering soft and
red as a Bolshevik.

Then,
in 2,000 years,
I'll join them,
those who I saw
in a museum once,
with skin like
bog oak,
jaws ajar,
with eyes of dust,
they couldn't
look away.

These boots,
Black and dusty,
Cracked leather, like
The face that smokes
Forty cigarettes a day.
A ripped soul,
From a previous life.
Looks, that cut me,
Under my ankle;
But I will wear you
Anyway, and
I will let you
Wear me out,
Regardless

Jamie F. Nugent

After a while, all curious ears transfixed
On us, like rusty antennas tuned in to
The music pulled out by our hands, as if
Roots from the soil, the music that
Crawled from our lungs, like some small
Sea-creatures scuttling from under rocks.

They sang in our wake, feeding us a diet
Of Cork Dry, cheers and sponge-cake,
But then, and why, I do not know, but
The feminine insults thrown between punches,
The police arrived near 4am, we left at 5 past,
To upstairs, until all cooled off and over.

As the sleepless sun peaked in the window,
The guitars ceased to be strummed,
The bodhráns ceased to be thumped, and
Like vampyes, they hid from Sunday's sunlight,
Sleeping in careless places as I sipped on a
***** so I die a little more easily.

The morning poured me coffee and put it
In front of my heavy eyes. A breakfast plate and
A basket full of cold toast. We thankfully ate,
And talked about the healing properties of lizards,
The corruption of the Catholic Church and
Just what the Hell happened last night?

-Jamie F. Nugent

Never trust a man
who tells you
he is a businessman,
vagueness in a black tie,
he must be in the game
of drugs or other illegal fancies,
or the absolute worst of all,
he is telling you the truth.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Kids count kisses in Liverpool,
Romancing their way through school,
Boys whispering to the liars by streetlight,
Softly dancing with the girls tonight.

Sixteen rooms fall into place,
All the boys, they grab at Grace,
Louise can't hold on to her hair;
She touches a cigarette,
Smokes a pair.

Necklaces taking gently,
I stop to taste the smiles,
Frowning skeleton resents me,
She should stop for a while.

Sitting slowly,
The velvet petticoat sings,
Running underground,
Wineglass without wings
Cheap windows feel the high heels,
Dancefloor crawling, we're made of steel.

Necklaces taking gently,
Stop to taste the smiles,
Frowning skeleton resents me,
She should caress me for a while.

-Jamie F. Nugent

In the nick of time,
You held a candle
To my hands - trembling
Just before my
Fingers turned blue;
I allure into
Your flickering flame,
Heating my bones.
The dogeared pages
Of your open book,
I could be your bookmark
For a while,
Just until the last chapter.

--Jamie F. Nugent

In the nick of time,
You held a candle
To my hands, trembling,
Just before my
Fingers turned blue;
I am allured into
Your flickering flame,
Heating my bones.
The dogeared pages
Of your open book,
I could be your bookmark,
For a while,
Just until the last chapter.

-Jamie F. Nugent

You can't wind back the clock
When it has melted in your hands;
And to sizzle the hollow hearts of starving artists,
Feed them riddles you kept
In the empty space behind your cheek.

We won't die of thirst, if we are
Standing in puddles filled by crocodile's tears,
Softly soaking our shins,
We dissolve.
Like sugar in steaming sweet tea,
We dissolve,
But we leave a tease
For sweet tooths.

-Jamie F. Nugent

She’s filled with colours.
They emanate as if
from a beehive,
fill this head,
make smooth all edges,
and borderlines of mine.

An orange August sun at dawn,
Risies like a lid.    

Wake me, wake me,
show me now,
please,
show me
colours again.

Damp and brollieless
through an August rain,
until in a dim room,
I find you playing chess,
with the vigor of a fist-fight,
with a ***** in lo of a white pawn
and a bottle cap for a black knight -

Playing one of those
Chaplineque Men
who were not born
but one day
fell like a shadow
from the coin-chute of the pool table,
spilling out so stale
immaculate and unshaven
like any of those crumbling men,
who long ago left dreams
of living the life of a lotus eater,
to hark on,
                   prattle on,
                                     bore,
as if trying to empty
the contents of their brains
onto the floor,
or into you,
or into an ashtray -
You stare at the board
seems like months and months
as he relates in loosely related grunts
fished up from a sunless sea
speaks of how
the radios are smaller,
have clogged up the air
with more music than ever,
but with less notes than ever,
                 more talk, talk, talk,
with less...........pauses.........
no fingers to turn dials,
one now only need utter the words -

In the past, the future thrill us!

We should stop
meeting on rainy days
in dim rooms like this,
but on second thought,
sometimes,
all it does is rain like this.

Raincoats retrieved,
we left drunkly, drably
dressed in gray, and pale,
blending into clouds
like how Sunday stew
get in the air,
like how love get in your bones.

Remember love
when you lived by the river:
We'd return to remnants
resting on flattened grass,
abandoned fishing rods
with snarled reels,
chicken bones and orange peels.

We could stop
meeting on rainy days
and drink nettle tea
as if was absinthe,
drink nettle tea
and see if your lips sting me
as it were the logical last step of history.

On the dark city streets,
Where we could found
Ourselves
So effortlessly lost.
You turn a cobblestone
Corner into the alley
By the old bookshop,
To read the lines
On my palms,
I'm not superstitious,
But you are mythical,
I can not explain you,
I can only try,
But I would not even
Come close at all.

-Jamie F. Nugent.

What is left of late?
Uttered the mouth out
to a sky, dull,
deadened with clouds,
snagged by cranes,
like scythes slicing heavenward;
49 crying horns sound.

What has happened?
Unhappily not happened?
What is left?
               Only the husk
and the head,
strange with sawdust,
and the eyes glace through glasses
as if through fog
at the rain,
    the rain,
    the rain,
the clogged drain.

'I'm told the dumb trace passes.'
said yourself, through the
pencil sketch of a smile.

With a passing glance of folly,
we, like gulls
mull over broken brollies.

Fluttering like bats abound,
each a failure to the
dampening shelter seekers,
their soul soaked,
their intentions drenched,
returning (rained on relentlessly)
     to their nest,
to dry,
to try and rest.

Alone now,
so could now,
the face felt
unsure whether
to freeze or melt.

Surveying the sky
whilst falling to the ground,
down I knelt.

I ate the whole world to find you.
Yesterday, and days before,
these are just bohemian villages to me,
where a boy flies a blue kite,
sees the sun on your back
and rainclouds in synecdoche.

Today, tomorrow,
but mostly today,
when the clogs blossom
yellow daffodils that
hide bare hairy heels,
bold and black
as Twiggy mascara.

A thousand phone calls later,
there won't be an answer.

For all our intermissions
were like cancer
ward smoke breaks.

Purple hands stained yellow,
with a dark blue mouth saying,

"Hold me, please just hold me".

Even if just for the warmth,
warmth which was
lacking here,
as cold as inside Russian tanks.

We hugged,
with all the surprise and violence
as an acid attack
on supermodels face,
we hugged.

Then after that,
tried as Latvian money,
half-alive in a ditch
pining over you,
the way a cat's tongue
pines for milk and breadcrumbs,
Tasted like salt, they did,
The tears that were shed,
Giving drinks to the mice.

Worshipping and demonized,
Force fed and forbidden,
Since stone age,
Interwoven irreversibly,
Hands in air, like
Trying to stab the night's sky.

You dance like snakes would,
You maintain an ironic hipster pose
For everyone, at all times,
Standing, bright in this
Dingy old house.

Blowing air kisses and out
Sliver smoke rings, all night long,
You are the gum snapping stranger,
Pacing up and down the hall,
Wearing a tight t-shirt
With daises,
And tighter jeans.

Calling for your taxi
In the near morning,
From the door, in freezing rain
You somersault from place to
New and exciting place,
Give to you to drink mandrogora,
Until you are muddied and slow,
Like a double-decker bus.

Hypnotic and hallucinogenic,
Unsure if this is legal,
As if you really care,
Thinking you are so very
******* like some
Witchdoctor or Voodoo Priest,
This was not what you expected,
The journey through the living room walls.

-Jamie F. Nugent

She flung her cigarette
Into the fireplace,
Then tried to heat her hands,
It was a miserable fire ablaze.

The turf was barely dry,
It floundered about the fireplace,
But it was the only turf left, and
She'd not dare turn on the oil heating.

She sat sadly in the sitting room,
The ceiling was collapsing and
The walls were caving in,
At least
The wallpaper is still nice,
thought she.

She remembered when she had bought it -
The sunflower pattern wallpaper sheets
Brightened up the room and all in it.

And now,
That it was just her,
Why did
the house
feel so
small?


-Jamie F. Nugent

Famous in War,
Famous in Bloodshed,
Famous in Heartbreak.

Stitch my scars,
Feel my heart sink,
Watch me fall and
Drown in memories.

How do you remember me?
Is it how I remember you?
The way the room lit up,
When you entered it.

Bright as a summer's day,
Bright as a winter's city night,
Christmas lights,
Covered in snow.

Never lacking in lustier,
Inseparable frozen hands,
Not wanting to let go,
Never wanting to give in.

That burn I get,
In the back of my throat,
From licking your flame.

I still see you the same way,
But in different places,
The bachelorette who
Drives past in her car,
In my opposite direction.

For a short moment in those
Shy girls, who glance out at life,
Through the same big,
Thick-rimmed glasses.

In the songs we once song
To one another,
All seeming like
A lifetime ago.

I hope that these days,
You are overjoyed,
Never again
To be so destroyed.

Destroyed by War,
Destroyed by Bloodshed,
Destroyed by Heartbreak.

- Jamie F. Nugent

Under a certain light,
with calm mollifying gleam,
at the touch of a hand
aphasia sets in quick,
sudden and sweet, and
submerged in a pool of milk,
I become a toy submarine.

When candles did die,
burnt to their wicks,
I hear you sing,
holding up half of my skies,
convulsive muscles flex,
as if a broken thing
was longing to be fixed.

Surly time stilled passed?
Though from its presence,
we were absentees,
too preoccupied with
our arms stretched outwards
weightless as bodies
on the Dead Sea.

Elegys are the lies
we tell dead people,
When we know
they won't hear us
From up above,
Or from down below,
Or just in the ground,
in the dirt.
Wherever you want to believe,
Just believe they can't hear you.
When you say that
He or she was this or that
Now and then
When you were nine or ten,
When they came back from
The shop with a sugar laced treat
That was never quite as sweet
As them.

Lies,
all of it.

-Jamie F. Nugent

There stood the good boy and the nice girl,
There stood joys from their curls,
They moved closer, awkwardly like chess pieces,
Until they folded like checkers,
And all the feeling released;
Never had he took ecstasy,
But had given it
And she never inhaled
Anything like him before,
Red poppies growing
Between the cracks
Of a checked floor.


-Jamie F. Nugent

December Darling,
I didn't feel so could then,
Love, when I had you.

-Jamie F. Nugent

I would stick my hands
Into the Venus-fly-trap,
That you kept in your hallway,
Just to see what it felt like.

I would taste marmite
From your spoon,
Pressed up against my lips,
Just for a change.

I would drink my cup of tea,
The way it was to you liking,
(milk,no sugar)
Just to get a taste of what you tasted.

Still,there is value in things unpleasant.

-Jamie F. Nugent

Drainpipes,
sticking tight to legs,
old news,
Rain wipes away
brown dirt from black shoes.
Your tragic bow and arrow,
made from my bone marrow,
Your magic aim,
where you hit your mark,
no matter how narrow.
Sailing down streams
made of necessary day dreams,
Failing to fail schemes
of winning,
by any means.
You have the only two
possessions worth having,
beauty and youth.
Moments in time,
frozen by a photo-both.
You know it can never
stay this way,
Not even looking the same
as you did yesterday.

-
Jamie F. Nugent

Her hair is purple,
Her heart red raw with blue blood,
She can't dye her heart.


-Jamie F. Nugent

In the sepia evening,
the day crumbles away,
trickles to night,
my hands are blue,
trousers torn,
ripped and worn ,
a black rainbow,
venturesome overhead,
brilliant in its lunacy.

-Jamie F. Nugent

(For Jaimie)

Orange sky, brings the early dawn,
I think to myself in sleepless yawn.
Because I am slightly too tired to say,
In the dawn, of this, my best friend's birthday,
Into thoughts in my head, I sink,
How it is just so insane to think,
She is a women now!
She is a women,how?
In all strange ways, we are almost the same,
In all strange ways, almost the same name,
Her heart is like a morning of spring,
Sounding of bluebirds, the songs they sing,
So let us sit down, relax in the kitchen,petal,
Slip off your shoes, as I boil the kettle.

-Jamie F. Nugent