"I can't eat," I said.
"Because I want to fade away.
I don't want to live through this pain."
I want to disappear,
cease to exist.
I want to make you feel
as much pain as I do,
but I doubt you ever will.
I want to put on so many drugs
that I can't remember my own name,
let alone what you did to me.
I want to be gone from this world.
So loving, loyal and true.
Who can resist that look
From a dog.
Best family member
Of the animal kind.
So devoted to his Mum and Dad
And even uncle.
No fickleness here:
Loving to run and fetch
For his master or mistress.
Even bring in the ‘paper.
See him jump for joy
As you grab the lead
That he’s brought you.
It’s “That time”…
If you let him,
He’ll lick you all over
Before rolling on his back
For a belly rub.
(And his Missus is just the same)!
But those eyes have it:
So you just have to give him
Strokes and cuddles.
© PB 21\1\2018.
Eight of us
And the blinding light of stars
For that moment
As we laid together under the sky
Shoulder against shoulder
And watched as the blinding light inched towards us
Waiting for the onrush of wind
The split second of weightlessness
And a sign that this is where we needed to be
Large pockets hold coarse wisdom stones
that have yet to be tumbled and known.
No deed has been done with many tears,
and my matter has yet to turn gray.
I have nothing but stripped circles
wrapped around dark no-sleep eyes;
but I'd hold scotch tape over damned rivers
for you, for ever, for love.
In apple growing-warmth,
I found oceans between eyelashes and pacific air.
Ligamented with smoke, skeleton hands crafted cigarettes of honey and curling floral sweetness.
For soft-haired royalty, I bowed my heart and washed my skin in space and rainy wishes.
The sun drowned in polish remover, and I longed for my love to melt metal,
so I could free caged canary yellow.
But I, the noiseless patient spider,
who has flung gossamer after thread,
am reaching for nothing but an earth flower,
one who once wished me dead.
Still, I sleep well under starless skies,
where urban northern lights burn the dark,
charred there by city windows and boundless passing cars.
Here, I wrap myself in a galaxy,
and paint the sun with blackberry juice,
all for the hope that perhaps one day,
it might live up to the one I once knew.
At first it mattered to her –
The way they looked.
The way they spun words from their mouths
And wrapped her in them.
When they gazed into her eyes every fibre of her being
When they were angry
Their cheekbones would form ghostly ravines.
But she learned not to fall for the pretty ones.
She still sees their faces every night
They ask her why she ran away.
Her mother asks,
“What kind of man will you date next?”
“One without a head.”
if not for thee, I might not have set foot in Alsager,
it could have become another stop I passed through on the train,
in summer sun, or winter rain,
I’d have perhaps thought
“oh this seems a sweet area to reside”
and then forgot all about it and enjoyed the rest of the rail ride,
just a picturesque town of travelled through myth
like Newton Dale Halt or Chapel-en-le-Frith.
I may never have known the names of it’s streets
or what it’s parks are called or where’s a cool place to meet,
never found out where’s a good bang for buck eatery to dine
or which shop has the best deals on two bottles of wine,
never known what it’s like to approach one of it’s doors
and in my tummy feel wings and a soar.
As it is Alsager’s now up there with my most favourite station
I step on to it’s platform with gleeful anticipation,
knowing in 15 mins we’ll be beginning our start,
thank you for Haze for putting this place in my heart.