I was at a funeral recently, a work colleague, a nice lady
Her father had passed away
I was surprised to learn that she was an only child
And that her Dad...her Dad was a 'steeplejack' of all things
Yea he used to climb up and repair church steeples or build church steeples, whatever steeplejacks do
I wondered amusingly Did he ever try and get her in on the trade
"C'mon up here Sarah, there's a great view from up here" He! He!"
Later on in the service one of his nephews got up to give the eulogy
He talked about what a special man he was
I thought to myself, You'd want to be a special man to be a steeplejack
Me! I get dizzy standing on a chair
You'd want to have your head ******* on the right way doing that job
One mistake and you're... you're history
I thought his poor wife must have been a nervous wreck waiting for him to come home
He'd lived into his nineties (90's)
His wife had died just a few years previously
He sounded like... like quite a character.

I was reminded then of an old school Pal of mine... Tom from primary school (kindergarten)
When we used live by the sea
Tom was a great swimmer he'd won loads of trophies
There was an outdoor swimming pool in our village
And you'd often see him heading up to the pool
He'd have his towel and togs under his arm
He used to walk on top of the sea wall when he'd be going up the village
And there was this part of the sea wall that was very high
There was about a 15 to 20 foot drop onto the road on one side
And an even bigger drop of 30 to 40 feet onto the rocks on the other side
And the width of the wall was just around a foot and had little ruts in it (uneven surface) that you could easily trip on if you weren't careful
And he used walk on this like a tightrope walker yea!
And we used to watch him in awe with our mouths wide open in amazement
Asking ourselves 'How could he do that ?
What the hell was going on in his head that he could do such a thing ?
If he fell he'd be killed outright or certainly crippled
And no one would ever say anything to him, they'd just say "Oh! That's just Tom"...
One day coming home from school he took me into the swimming pool
He knew all the people who worked there
On this day they were cleaning the pool and had emptied out all the water
So what does Tom do but go out onto the 'diving board ' and starts bouncing up and down on it
And there's a drop of 20 to 30 feet onto the hard cement of an empty swimming pool
If he fell he'd be breaking his neck or his legs
Crazy!
He came to our house one time, now there used to be this big rocky outcrop that used come right up to the back of our house
We used to call it 'the Cliff', it was made up of all these big rocks and loose slatey type rocks and sand
It was as high as the house itself
We were all soccer ⚽ mad in those days, we used run up the steps to the back garden to play (was on top of the cliff)
We'd be looking over at the chimneys on the house
Tom came visiting one day, when we went out the back and he seen the Cliff
He announced straightaway "I'm going to climb that"
We said "You're crazy!"
We left him there bemused and went off to play our game
About 30 minutes later Tom appears at the side of our soccer pitch having climbed up from below...
And he could hardly kick a football, he just wasn't interested in that... wasn't interested
Inside his head he had...he had his own way to go.

I’m flying I’m not lying I am never coming down
I’m not dying no more crying I will stay above the ground
I outrun the hounds, I cannot be drowned
More amplifying and igniting the world reverberates with sound
My coronation mass elation and now I wear the crown
No denying I am lightning I am the best pound for pound
Without trying I am frightening I am lost and never found
I am the baddest man around
I am untethered never bound
I will forever lead the crowd
I will leave them wowed
I will make them proud
I will not be cowed
Nor will I bow down
Never see me frown
Now I run this town

you claim to be the sun

a lioness and goddess

born from fire and flames.


I do not doubt you.

your beliefs are your own.


yet do not be so contentious

so audacious to paint yourself

in such resplendent glory.


we both know better.


if you are built from ashes

why do you claim to burn

at the memory of me?


my ghost should not leave

scorch marks upon a goddess

of the sun.

one forceful burst of holiday wind
makes me glance passively to the left,
tracing the lines in your ponytail as you
continue to stare beneath the pier. the
void silence between us is normal; i shiver
and you follow suit. you’re wearing triple
layers and i’m wishing i would have been
more prepared.

the seals suddenly go belly-up and you call for
the others. they come over; one is embracing
the other from behind; arms bolted to hips.
in the right angle, underneath the lamp post, i
pretend to unsee a slightly fresh mark on her neck.

i sense the awkwardness drifting our way as if the
white fog in the night had suddenly come alive. i
inch a hint closer. enough so you wouldn’t notice.
in fact, i’m not sure what would have happened.
i wonder if you would have stopped me, having known.

there’s about three inches and four centimeters between
our arms now. the others have gone upstairs and the voices
around us have retired. the small voice beneath my ears is
pressuring me to shoot my shot but my being remains stagnant.
we observe the seals dance joyously within nature’s boundaries.

you’re still shivering.

taking a substantial bite from the already petite slice,
he smiles and shoves the remainder of the fruit in my face.
“it tastes just like you; innocent and oh-so delicious.”

my skin crawls on every level imaginable submerged in flesh.
turning around as to hide my contorted expression, i just nod.
i absolutely hate him, but they claim he took care of me as a child.

“you don’t have to like him; he just needs acknowledgment.”

he grips my hands and spins me around. just like he used to.
but harder. much harder. i used to feel terror; it’s routine now.
stare at the concrete as spit projects on my face - internal meditation.

they never believe me when i bring it up. i get it, there’s no proof.
these marks around my throat – allergies from the weather.
you’re right, these bruises, they’re from rough housing. tough love.

literally.

he says the easiest way to discipline someone was reinforcing punishment.
you should see the strength he uses to test for ripeness at the market.
now imagine this: the watermelon is your skull, and his fists are knives.

i just avoid eye contact and clench my abdomen; the knees are coming.
“i’m going to spread you open today, boy; like a ******* ****** watermelon”
he loves seeing the liquid run down my chin – perfectly young and seedless.

and i react just how he likes it:

like his ******* watermelon.