Council house dilapidated and brittle as the bones
That inhabited it, invalid mother bedridden,drugdazed
With a prescription-based carnival skull and sore lungs
sustained from years of cigarettes and TB.
In the night there was machine gun coughter, foxes
howling frost -if you looked outside you could see them
stringing silver from their fangs on the street below-
And I went downstairs to fix her some tea
because for the first time in years she asked me
And the storm outside lifted the window to the edges
of it's brims
And I felt a stinging ping as an ache
Spread the crevice of my spine
And I thought 'is this it? is this the life I've instore?'
and as it turns out,it was it.
It is it.
I remember once lying on that cold kitchen floor
after getting home from school
worried about something or another,
biting my nails and dreaming a hundred million
Futures on the ceiling and wondering how they could ever
Not as polished as I'd like but oh well
that taunts as its teaches
singing it's song at tooth's breadth
To my sordid chest.
in the mirror my ****** features distant
Try to love myself and a las,
I love you like chaos loves the silence.
Concrete morning swings along the window pane
and ushers in a dreary reminder: not to get lost if
You're iffy on your
way back home.
I won’t lie.
Once those eyes met mine,
When I watched you run your hands through your hair multiple times,
But when I saw that genuine smile and laugh you gave once I made you laugh,
Has my skull ever really been a home to you?
Or was it too cold, too surreal?
You weren't complete, neither were my masterpieces.
I couldn't kidnap enough of you.
It was more of a cage than a home,
an utopia for me nevertheless, mine alone.
Hours upon hours I've spended on you.
An addiction, art, or my fall?
I can't even remember all of you.
the inevitability of
Over the course of a
As Otis Redding plays.
I should really stop smoking...
My last cigarette and my last poem for a little while.
Just above the endless sky,
Beyond the clouds we fly.
Among the air as a whole.
I nearly lose my soul.
Lost in thought my head goes off.
In the distance I hear a cough.
If only it could wake me now.
I move my face and frown my brow.
A little bird flying by.
I wave and said it "hi".
She looked at me and flew me past.
I didn't want to see the last.
Opening my eyes I see my class.
I should pay attention to pass.
But only a minute or two I tried.
And back I was in my evening glide.
This poem is about not being able to focus your attention, and accidentally drifting off while important things are being said or done. It took me a while before I could controll my "daydreaming" in class, and it sure did ruin alot of classes for me in the past.
On the bus
I've only the blank eyes of my
to study, and the heat of a bitewound
on my lip
to accompany it.
back and fourth
in my seat
In my thoughts,
thru my eyes;
You keep me safe.
Written following a bus joruney home after one of the first meeting's with my future wife. She entered my life at a very depressed and lonely stage where I needed someone to cherish and cherish me back. I was gorged in Ezra Pound's early works at the time.
When your hand reaches, grasping mine
It's like I'm pulled through the ice on the pond my own imagination
With fingers waking
I fall from the clouds without landing
And return to the wandering desertless streams
Until you squeeze again
I forget who I am
Daydreaming And Hand Holding
The thoughts of
fill my mind.
Keeping me away
that I've been assigned.
Not like it's a bad thing thinking about you, but now it's become daydreaming.
Sitting criss-cross applesauce
Behind over-grown oak trees in a pit of paracosm
Bedraggled from a rigid world, masks of ceramic reticence
Enduring the fever of love quickly maddening of sweet soundings
Running elsewhere unable to hear the ringing of her innocent world
Gaping a red apple of hand, acrimony dripping below cadaverous lips
Nirvana expeditiously slipping oppositional of an hourglass
A shine of twilight by a black coat flashed above her eyes
Captured in a strained love of delirium