How can you believe my eyes?
magic seeks the commonplace
morning light has passed us by
bitten tongues will bleed disgrace

All this light is empty space
illumination at a price
I don't care to show my face
how can you believe my eyes?

Left your home seeking the light
tragic, gone without a trace
stars are wandering tonight
magic seeks the commonplace

Host of a forgotten place
lost the vision to your sight
new moon waxing as it wanes
morning light has passed us by

Angels mourn the devil's night
beauty lies in fallen grace
frozen flames are burning bright
bitten tongues will bleed disgrace

Look upon my hollowed face
anemic bones can bear no lies
torn by your spellbinding ways
show me your pale heart this night

Then, I might believe my eyes

A willing captive
gripped tight by her eyes,
steely, grey
and sparkling bright
in love
I watch her talk,
a loquacious fluence,
and study her lips like
a foreign language

your attention is slipping.

not at all.

well, she said
haven't you ever been in love?

I must have been
surely, I think
or something more akin
to time standing still,
the sands sculpting a moment
of a thousand lifetimes.

of course I have.

where is your love now?

right here, I think
chronic and immutable,
boxed into lines,
safeguarded and sound
in dreams and reflections,
vicarious,
a farce of mimicry.

well travelled,
I would say.

like blood from a stone.
well, she said
I'm glad you came,
will you come again?

and she went,
leaving me
with a pocketful of sand.

of course I will.

she's just the kind of girl
basement dwellers portray
scamming cash from weirdos
the dumb ones anyway

she wants to be a doctor
but life gets in the way
she still finds time to hit the gym
and keep the belly at bay

sometimes I have to pinch her
"just making sure you're real"
she smiles but I don't think she knows
the way she makes me feel

it's like rain at the window
while you're warm inside
it's finding the sharpest pencil
when you really need to write

it's the clinking of coffee cups
beneath the morning sun
and Euclid's consternation
as two remain one

she's just my kind of girl
that's all I have to say
the kind of girl to make you wish
you could sleep all day

the engineers have left the building
architects now rule the roost
nothing gets made but there's plenty
tilting and cooing over the perfect view

blood drips
from your lips
to my fingers
my hands
stealing kisses
leave stains on your cheek
I see you, you swear
in the way your gaze lingers
as your tongue

I tried

I don't sleep
I levitate over the street
I'll dog walk Bo Peep before I talk sheep
I'm offbeat

I could dip a toe in your tea
and have you sip it thinking sugar never tasted this sweet
I'm low key

but only goin as low as a C
'cause it's some sight to see when you mess with the B
that's not me

Just give me some THC
maybe an e if I'm feeling upbeat
LSD
so I still don't sleep
I procrastinate for half a week
making gaping holes in sheets
having affairs with pharaohs and jeez -
where did he ever find they hos?
please

Them hos, excuse me
grammar's not what it used to be
before we were locked in our homes
by abusey wankers for profit
not ours, come off it
to build bankers coffers over some coughing

I'll take the coffin over the fear
open sarcophagus(es)
like some cheery old boffin on Hatshepsut -
and she's oot, how weird
I could've sworn she was left right here

Seems she was out all along
wrapped us up like a song
but don't get it wrong
this one's not finished
you made it this far already
stick with it

There isn't a limit conceived in time
that wasn't upheaved by an adamant mind
don't put faith in imagined lines
you
cosmic blizzard
ride the Pacific
wave with the light like some diamond wizard

Enlighten the night with your hieroglyphics
wield your worth
its lot
intrinsic
to the world and all that's in it
make today your favourite lyric
and sing it

my knees are bruised

my stomach is full

my bleary eye has been caught


my breath treads shallow

my blood runs deep

my voice is swept by the majesty


my hands grow weary

my heart grows with them

my bones are a fortress of solitude


part them

in such sweet sorrow

my clouded lungs rejoice

her over there?
with the long blonde hair
and don't-****-w/me eyes
yeah, that's my friend, Marie, she's nice
she always gives me good advice
but never twice
she actually told me not to speak with you tonight
but I don't see why, you seem alright
I've got a sixth sense, I can tell by the eyes
and all I see in yours is light
dancing round shadows
that never take flight
entranced by the river in a sea of night..
anyway,
I know what she's like
it's not as if you bite
or maybe you do, I don't mind
sink your teeth in, devour me whole
strip every ounce down to to the bone
left in a pile I won't be alone
and if you can find it you can have my soul

cinnamon kisses
the curls in her hair
my wishes
in the way she stares
choking on bliss
like perfumed air
whatever this is
I haven't a care

I. The False Mirror

that's how it starts
dull and creeping.
shadows in the back of your mind.
reassuring you that the smoke
from their furious fire
is only temporary.
"Look away
lest the Light claim your eyes!".
the thing with shadows is
the more you look away
the further in
they close.
as flames roar
the only sound you hear
is a soothing song
of dominion.
until your world
is a vision
of black alabaster
where you can't tell the difference
between shadow and caster.


II. Portrait of An Owner

we take the medicine
that consumes us.
leaks through the cracks
in our spine.
dripping
we make moves in the dark.
tripping
over useless pieces
of used-to-be heart.
they say
the road less travelled
doesn't go our way.
they say
many have been led astray.
so we wait
in fear.
with bated breath
for the next hit
to keep us in place.


III. a bête noire

we were promised planes
but given straw wings
tethered to the shore.
they remind us
we can fly
but not to aim too high
or stray
too close to the light.
that we might see
what Icarus seen.
living isn't being
without a doubt
he would tell us
he didn't fly high enough.
so, for the spectacle
we'll gladly burn
alive.
belonging to none
severing ties.
that's how endings begin
bright and sprawling.

Celestial ocean

Arms outstretched

We sail beneath the light



Calamitous wave

Rising in the dark

To subjugate the night



Watch the stars fall

A drop of wishful

Our faithful will provide



Warm premonitions

In pale embracement

As fostered fates collide

I can hold your fragile heart
And we can tear apart
All the pretty, little things
That made us feel complete

After all the pieces fall
We'll both see eye to eye
Separate our minds and rest
Our bones beside the pile

Suffer through the rising heat
That longs to leave our veins
Race across the creaking floor
In glistening crimson

Taste the burning afterglow
Resolved between your lips
Drunk on ghosts and
Comely phantoms

Let the
bottle
tip.

I just went to bed
left you on Read
I did it on purpose to mess with your head

Laid in gossamer sheets
tinged sickly red
with the blood of words
that went unsaid
hard to deny
who made the bed
who caught whom
in whose spinnerets

Distraught with rotting thoughts
locked in my own stocks
stalking twisted halls
the clocks have all stopped

Stuck in my head
kicking myself
with broken knees
and buckled legs
struggling to free myself
from myself

Entombed by one I never could deceive
darkness abounding when all that I need
is to catch the right light
and stop trying to fight
Oh, what a tangled web we weave

my lifestyle is dead style
out of my head style
every day's the wrong side of the bed style

I'm living so lifeless
like painted-on eyelids
my life's only priceless because there's no price list

not blind but I'm sightless
no wings so I'm flightless
no things to take sight of and fly for or ride for
or die for or try for or lie for or strive for
or cry for or smile for or open my eyes for

making steps is unwise like Gandalf's demise
wiping dust from my eyes, I set sight on the skies
still can't see so surmise it's my final sunrise
a well of wet decisions doesn't ever run dry

and if I reply
in just the right way
then maybe you'll like
what I have to say

and we'll talk until
the night meets the sun
and almost forget
we both were someone's

I'll go back to yours
and you'll say you're mine
then we'll both get lost
in soft skin and time

they'll call it love
and we'll both agree
'til we've had enough
of what they believe

then we'll say goodbye
and you'll walk away
as if I replied
in just the right way

This smoke in my throat
The fire in my teeth
The wires of my bones
Slowly tugging at me

Withered webs of my eyes
Covet all that I see
The light from your skin
Meets the fall in my knees

The warmth of my breath
A glass guarantee
Tattered wind of my faith
Cast off with the sea

Forever, you said
Under a shooting star
Come what may
Know this is ours
Your claim, well laid
Once upon a time
Under a shooting star

keep turning me red
begging me
to make the blood beautiful

You asked me why I must speak in tongues
I answered only with a smile
Devils know no other way

Malcontent that you are
you asked me again
so I replied

"The devil
only
knows"

Something awoken I long thought dead
Something broken, back from the dead
The long sleep felt too long in my head
Now I sleep with everything she said

Something smoking in my bed
I was choking while she bled
Turning hope from black to red
then back to black the minute she left

I've traced her steps and every one led
to water I can't walk on or even tread
Still jumped in, now I'm sinking like lead
Going down quicker than the sickest head

At the bottom I float not living or dead
Stuck in a limbo of my own intent
My prayers returned, unopened, unsent
All i have left is the long cold descent

Redundancy,
my currency to the last cent
I can't seem to help repeating myself
Can't seem to stop teetering on the edge
of nothing to say that hasn't been said

come, look
see painted walls

see crime
see heart
see the last light fall
on abandoned halls

hear the running still
of a silvery river
through slivers
of a stricken city

time rushed away

run your fingers
up the rusted rails
flanking gate and chain
and with the same disdain
they show you

climb steady

taste the silt
stand
with wilted pillars
drunk on verdant shores

breathe a new sound
feel the stifled air
of a cloudless night
languish in your lungs

come, look
fresh walls to paint

up on Gray hill
an old ash tree grows
just who planted it?
nobody knows

some eat the fruit
some kick the leaves
some sit quietly
minding the breeze

up on Gray Hill
where an old ash tree grows
come rain in summer
or springtime snow

where fairies are crowned
and eagles have fallen
where children run
until Mother comes calling

where lovers have carved their names in the bark
as starlight kept the night from its dark
up on Gray Hill
the old ash tree grows

just who planted it?
well
nobody knows

people drawing on pictures they've seen
choosing a side like football teams
the weirdest thing, to me
it seems we all believe our screens

he exclaimed, she hinted, he nodded and prodded

they giggled and whispered, he retorted, she snorted

he vehemently seethed, she triumphantly screamed

and no one said anything

I'm
stuck here
it's how I like it but
that's the third time this month
first it was Terrence
then Theodore
now me.
my limbs
are meant
for living
embracing
all things
from roots
to the heavens

quietly lurking
invisible love
all thumbs and fingers
a hand from above

post to the void
and a stranger or two
those passing by
           I hope you're good
I hope you avoid
what's bringing you down
I hope a smile
            can follow a frown
I hope you give
just as good as you get
            I hope you can live
without fear and regret
I hope this finds you
just as you need it
if not today, I'll wait
                  hope
and repeat it

I sleep with the window open
so in the night
hope might float in

It's all for the one's you'll never meet

a word
a system
a building
a philosophy

Their onus is ownership
intended or otherwise

what will you leave behind?

‏‏‎ ‎

In the thicka the Perth Road's pretence
millin aboot the fustian
o the ald "Hunter S." basement
(cuz there's nae Scottish writers ti name a pub efter)

cap scrapin the ceilin
Bohemian Monk Machine
gettin set on the tiny stage fir a bit o
funk-jazz-sumin-or-other

a hud ti step ootside
wee bit o fresh smoke
a few lads sauntered past in thir
designer gear an zirconian ears

"let's go in here -
nah, am no into country music"

it's ca'd Maker now but
ah it maks me is restless

cynic
pedant
seer
believer

royal
peasant
meat
and cleaver

solicitor
enquirer
teacher
denier

conspirator
healer
pr­eacher
and liar

lover
fighter
bestower
detractor

reader
writer
audience
an­d actor

my battery would be quite low
incessantly in need of charge
we'd go wherever you go

my software would be so secure
a little out of date
the oldies are the goodiest
I think that's what they say

your face would be the only thing
to ever light my screen
the pictures we could take together
places we'd be seen

selfies in the bathroom
selfies on the beach
holding me at arms length
always within reach

you'd tell me your favourite things
and all your darkest secrets
I'd give you a couple rings
if you would only keep them

other people like                  you invite me to dance
making me feel                     like I shouldn't
clueless                                   if I want to
I know I never                       know a good time
even tried                               since last time
but I lost my step                  I gave it my all
stepped out of time              gave in to the fall
now I'm too tired                  to look up from the bottom
Autumn came                        just for the view
and left                                    I knew it well
the only proof                        of how a white flag
is the break in my back        a feeble tribute
and scattered leaves             shall never appease

A man tired from the waking day
hangs his keys on the beaded hook,
lets the hat off his grateful head.
He places himself in front of the table
where he laid down his papers,
his skins and his skin.
He put on the table, the day's characters,
mulled them over in the electronic hum of Aleph and coffee flavoured eyes,
rolled them up tight with tomorrow's fears
and set them alight.
He put there a glass ashtray to catch the embers of regret.
He put on the table his dear friend, Old Man Wibble,
the bedlamite seer,
drunken oracle,
"liquid Jesus, straight from the bottle"
and longed for a glass to raise.
He put there the smoke from his exasperated lungs
and the wistful music of his tired throat,
he put there every last syllable and every letter left lingering on a lost lovers lips.
He put hope on the table,
for the weight might crush him as he sat
but not the table,
solid under this load,
to bear weight is what a table must do
and tomorrow will always bring another pile.

therefore

I'm doomed

I never had a thought that wasn't preceded by ten
confused by five
seconded by none
writing them down feels impossible
like choosing your favourite line from your favourite song or fully comprehending what it is about the beat that makes you move

my thoughts don't flow freely
they scatter and smash
cascading like the great flood without even a paper ark for respite
structured without form
prone to sink at the slightest wave

my thoughts misbehave
run riots
race wolves
some fly off to the ever after
and the darkest hover round like distant drones
a distraction
a constant buzzing
a worrying sight

I don't think I'm doing it right
I'm not supposed to think
just write

but my thoughts won't do what they're told

I have not spread my toes on the banks of Loch Lomond,
nor hearkened the call of the Northern shore, drowning in its boundary with the kelpies.

I have stepped on blue suede shoes
and been dragged in to selfies.

I've never tasted a pastry en français
perusing Parisian cabarets
never took a walk with la Seine by my side, smoking cigarettes in the hazy moonlight.

I have seen dolphins spend summer nights in the Tay, laughing along the Ferry Esplanade.

I have not seen New York scrape the sky
I have seen a lot of people scrape by
I have not witnessed a single display
compare with a simple act of the heart.

I haven't reached the end
I have made a start.

talk to me with your hips
breathe the smoke from my lips

lie to me

the way I like it
tell me how tonight
it's only me

and this red light
brings out your eyes

let loose the demons
that hide in your hair
I won't care

you're so ugly
when you're honest

tell me lies
let your tongue
bleed terze rime

**** me in
to your sacred dark
and force me
to eat you

while you look
at what I made you do

always down
as if he fell from the sky
the tragic clown with the funniest life
the perfect comedy in time

he always frowns, I tell no lie
sticks silver needles in his eye

looking on the bright side
every cloud's a lining

all he ever wanted
was the planets to align
across the vast expanse of time
he spent wishing for a diamond

eyes on the sky when
groundwork's how to find them

could have been mining
instead he was whining
sour grapes are to his taste
he's always fine dining

and when it's finally his time
I believe his final sigh
will be released
with sweet relief
at not needing to try

I brought her to the water by the moon,
To share with her, the shade beside the sea,
I gave to her my eyes, that she might see,
and sang to her the most afflicted tune.

I prayed of her what she might ever do,
When faced with all the mightiest would fear,
She whispered, through a solitary tear,
A crystal verse to stay her last adieu.

When fires of gold have shed their morning light,
When embers fade and only ash remains,
When enemies of old are at the gates,

Do not embrace the darkness of that night,
Or think upon those ashes with disdain,
For all that might remain will share our fate.

big pond
little pond
cardboard box

no fish
no frogs
one old sock

big street
little town
no one knocks

blacked out
windows
doors all locked

big lie
little man
walls that talk

cold sons
dark nights
eyes on the clock

dead winds
dying light
stars on a walk

big sky
little faith
clinging to a rock

The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things
that can't be traded, they're a Gift
The best advice I'd hope to give
The Little Things, for which you live
will be there, when the future sings
The best advice I'd hope to give
Romanticise The Little Things

knew I should have lied
when she looked me in the eyes
and asked, "who's it about?"
I could have made her doubt
now everything is different
and everything's a mess
I should have been indifferent
like primary school tests
but I just had to tell her
and now she screams and shouts
about the man who sold the world
over a couple of pounds.

U and I
always together
The Y before U
Obliterated forever
by the
O'
after I found U