I’ve walked beside you
Behind you
Broke your fall
     And never told you
      
Sliced my tongue on the words of others
To cut them off before they reach you

Picked thorns
                     Before embedded
Opened your eyes before you notice
                     What you can’t see

Hoped for a reaction
                     A gasp
                     A stumble
                     A something
Anything

Even if you said I was nothing
I could walk away
Owning a presence
              That may have been worthy
              Of a second glance

When I awaken
When I hear the weave
Of Egyptian cotton
Rise and fall
                       Around your torso
When you wrap yourself
                       As an Ibis
                       Offer yourself
                       Become eternal
Whilst we worship each other
                       As Pharaohs
             The sun will continue to burn

Above the horizon
A canopy      
          So dark
Words cannot separate

Even when in
      Negative image

The single full stop
                              Of a moon
             Gives nothing away

No night is longer
                     Or shorter
No day Narrower
                     Or wider
No interval between
                     Then and now
Your'e a constant
Within thought
Within experience of unconditional love

No experience required
No camouflage
Just patience
         Suppleness of thought

Windsocks tell of things
                     Beyond control
Slight shifts
Reflect calm
                      Between chaos

Whilst watching windsocks
Opinions rest
Until hit by storm
      Then shift in an instant

A single candle
A window open
             An arm cascades

Click clack
Sliding of beads
So therapeutic
To see how this became that
What makes up the whole
                           Touch each fraction

No need for equation of form
To find value of one emotion
                               Against a known
Or
Tangents
Or
Ometries
When the only calculus of interest
                                    Is sum of self

Feathers fill an earthenware vase
                                         Tall quills  
Suiting ink wells
Scribing words beneath candle
Signing treaty’s  
                           Secured with wax
The Magna Carta
The Declaration of Independence
                         Momentous things

But these are simple feathers
Collected for aesthetics
For smudging
For connection
   For reasons other than to write

I hold a pen
              It’s yours
It won’t write for me
Suit my hand
My words
My mood
Even if it did
                 I think memory
              Is best left within
Rather than releasing ink
That’s beyond written expression

Place me
On a waterfalls edge
              Above fifty fathoms
To be humbled
With my aggression
One step in front
At arms length
At the distance it finds
                         Its fulfilment
Then from one step behind
I’ll gaze through aggression
            To witness the point
            From where discipline dissolved

I'll wash my words in the sea
Some may descend
         Never be seen

They may disperse
Within the seven oceans
            Await judgement    

Or be ignored
Left to evaporate
Condensed  
       To rain

Not knowing how
              To do something
                           Learning
          Requires guidance
          Thought understanding

Not knowing what to do
When you know how it's done
              Requires little thought
              Just choice

Not knowing what to do 
When your lost
Without purpose
Requires no thought
                         Let go
                         Listen to your heart

It suits you
             And me
That's all that matters  
It suits
The mirror not to reflect less of you
It suits
Your clothes to lie that they've grown

To use fountain pen's
                             Write left handed
            Smudge words with wrists
           Before meaning can be seen

It suits us to know
                           Without telling each other

Polka dots tumbled from your dress
To Settle
Mirror                                 
Constellation Andromeda
                                     Far from home
Your attire
Changed character
Became lost in surroundings
              That didn't ask you to leave  
Gravity changed
Clouds were contained
       Moon was outpaced by the sun

Some things unmissed
Need never be found

There's some things I miss
Can’t get out of my head
Can’t stop thinking
Over and over
              It's torture
                           Cause I miss them so much

       That's why I tell myself
You're only missed a little
                       Then I can think of you often

Nobody or nothing
Can convince me
That nothing
                   In it's self
                   Contains nothing
We’re just too small
              Too limited
              To see all that surrounds
                                        From within our body

Being this way
They say
Is a natural occurrence
                               Certain
                               Predictable

     As when the path of
Worldly planets collide
              A shadow cast
              Upon the other
The dark eclipse
                                Inevitable

How does one soften
Such emotion
When its surface
             Is taught
Like the spine of an open book
                       Placed face down
For ease of remembrance

The oak has
Words of thunder
Divine connections
                      He shall be your double bass

The willow oh the the willow
Her immortality
And vitality
                      She will be your cello

The windswept Hawthorn
Sacrifice's self to
Sweeten souls
                      She will be your viola

The Rowans shall play together
Enchant with
A final spell
                      They will be your violins

And you
You shall conduct the wilderness
With such intensity
                   The world will slow to attend

There is an old Post Office table
                        Covered in things
Smashed willow pattern
Nothing fits
Looks arty scattered

Rusty looking thing
Small
Unknown origin
Probably a dried slug

Dinky No 39 been dug up
Top down
Never valeted
Better full of earth

Things are strange
Things happen
Things are different now

She’d
Play hide and seek
                          By day
Within borders of contentment
              Or knit words without sound

She stayed but one weekend
                                At solstice
                        In a tree house
I never saw her wings
But she’d flown
Leaving only a slice of gingerbread cake
                        Settled under a rowan tree

The ground burns
The soles of my feet
                 It’s not hot
                 I’m not shoeless
Simply put
My roots don’t sink deep enough within it

Pulled happiness towards myself
                                       Held tight
                                       Grips loosen
                                       It sways away

Pushed sadness back
                             Beyond reach
                             Kept pushing
                             It recoiled

       Emotion is best left
           As an untouched pendulum
           Moving freely within my experience

After conscription to endure
                              One outing
I’ve no heart or smile for a new
                                  Bon voyage

You have no heart or smile
                                           Came a reply

Is this truly what you think
Is this what I have become
A person sober and grey
Without appetite
                            For life
Perhaps Iv'e forgotten it's taste
Perhaps I am anorexic
Perhaps your right

                         Perhaps I’m tarnished
                         Perhaps I never forget
Perhaps the poppies will cease to whisper

The tattooist’s lines
Soften
Turn to blue
                          Faiths have
An anchor
And forget me knot
                          Marks time
Within a beachfront kiosk
                               Mattress in rear
Note on shutters
                         Saying  
                         Back in 15 minutes

Older than her waist size
Younger than the priced
Sunday Sport tabloid
Talking of *******
And WW2 bomber on the moon
                          That she’d folded
       As though sleeves rolled up

Her name imprinted
Each stick of rock
                       On the seafront
When anyone talked of Faith
                              Pink words
                                    Always turned blue

When water stands still
And energy flows
The crest of a wave
                                Stays silent

Some poems
                     Offer reflection
                     Memories
                     On still water
                    
Some poems
                     Become the water
                     Converse
                     As ripples
                     In a breeze

Some poems
                     Become infectious
                     Inflame emotion
                     Penetrate your skin
                     Have a half life
                     That lasts generations

To that which is felt
                        Heard
                        Seen
                        Anticipated
                        
The chord within a Hammer Horror
Scored in a “diminished fifth”
Which
When conducted
Emits a frequency that
                             Walks through walls

We connect to our
Own singular truth
Inexpressible by word
                    Relayed by the heart
                           The space where
Solitary reflection
                      Tightens my throat
Mixes emotions
                         Until colours run

Leaving nothing
Bar mottled visions
Held back
          By their own significance

We’re parallel
You’re most
Of my being
Touched by the stars
                              Pulled by the moon

The salt in tears
Surely connects us
To that part
Still water bound
                       By the memory it holds

When there's no thought
               For tomorrow today
When yesterday fails to exist  
It’s like being breathless
The relative moment is now    
            And you gasp
Grip life hold it close
Close enough
To accept every nail
Driven deep in your body  
                                  By life
Becomes no more
Than a point of reference
Upon which to hang clothes

When in the moment
                        Your presence
Fills a bandstand
                   A park
A promise made as a child
            When I grow up......
Hold yourself close to each minute
                                      Be breathless

Direct and concise
Without mention
           From father to daughter
To she who pounded his chest
To she who whispered don’t go
To she who wept across the county

Business like
                      Wills
Black and white
                      Bound in ribbons
               Attached to the heart

With strings binding in knots
With words at hourly rates
With clauses omitting
                                                 I loved you x

I'm pupating
Without the privacy of a cocoon
                           Maturing in full view
Shedding skin that thins and softens
                          Throughout the years

      I'll outgrow my body
Due to mortal limitation
       Break free from flesh
Become that which "I Am"
                                  Beyond physical

I know why the cats eyes sobbed
What to do with a fallen star

What it is to be captivated
Why icebergs drown
Why we should walk
                                      In our own shoes

That mortality's a phase
              Experience my greatest teacher
My worst enemy's kept in
A mirror the time taken
For a sparrow to exhale
How nothingness conceals all
                The clarity of silence

That life unfolds
As we choose
Based on experience
Of how we expect
                             Unless it doesn’t
Because you can’t live it that way

We could bathe
In physical truth
                                    Perhaps we do
Neat or distilled
Drip fed
              Like water
In its any forms
Placeless on periodic table

Truth softened
                          In our fragility
        Hardened
                          By others resilience

Worn by the face of a manikin
        At peace within the world
        If that’s what you wish it to be

Dear Diary

                     It’s not my fault

It’s easy to render
Myself a victim
Driven by consequence
                                    
Accountability
Sheds daily
                    Like skin
It silently falls

Perhaps I shall erase
My cuttings of
                    Foregone conclusions

They surround a
Diary full of days
Each encircled
                    By failure of others

Each balloon in my room
Carries a captive thought
The type of which remain
                                         Dominant
                                         Predatory
Paced
Head below shoulder
Eased only by a need
To sway
                    On un-retracted claw
Each anxiety  
A cord of attachment
Each balloon
Led to an open window
                                   One by one
Released to navigate the planet
Lest they stay
To circle the world
                    Inside my head

Love's
           An unbound number
There is no three and a half
                            Or division
                                  
Love is a pacifist
Surrendered upon us
Our divinity
An endless wave
Without satellite to push or pull
 A wedding bouquet
Thrown to an empty room
A constant within
                               The state of awareness

Un-bridle shoes  
                             You’ve never worn
They’ve no memory of
Steps you’ve taken

Use laces that have never been tied
                             Walk without conception
                       Observe without association
                                        Evolve without dependence

No matter
                      Upon which surface I tread
Moss sand soil
Sediments of years
                                  Long past
Become exposed
                                  Each step
Layers of guilt
A backpack
That cannot be lightened
                                     Or past to another
When load or gradient surpass my will

No matter
                     Upon which surface I tread
Footprints left
                          Sink deeper
Than scales would suggest
One day soon
                        With love and acceptance
A path upon tissue paper
                                   Will leave no trace

You stroke my hair
Whilst I smooth the flesh
                          That without muscle hangs

Outside the clouds
Turn into a landscape
Obscured by haze
                                    In that blissful moment
I forget the fading time allotted to us
And the reality
Of both our consequences

I ask
You say
                              “I’m not sure”
Like the moment
Before it snows
Or nights spent
Searching for Venus
Without clarity
Through naked eyes

You knew she's secluded
In a room unused
But still said
                                "I’m not sure”

There she wore a pendant
Engraved   “keep out” in braille
I didn’t feel it
We never touched
Venus dims
You won’t speak
Words from within
I ask
You say
                                “Are you sure”

There is a condition
Adjacent to fear
But beyond its boundary

A place so close
That you
May drown in the awareness
Of survival

A point in time
Where you
Await the Caiman to close
Their eyes

There was something
About your mascara
         When it rained
    When it smudged

But before it ran
The liner in the corner of each eye
                                Angled Easterly
                        Aligned with Horus
Now the prism
Within each iris within each eye
Within your photograph
Creates a mirage
                 That your still here
There was something
                 About your
                 Mascara

Identity has no attachment
                          Where from
It is held down as a constant
                          To cover the years

   Identity is suggestive
Fluid in our perception
                As an ice cube
     Between your palms
                        Dissolves
     To slip through your fingers

Each time I think of you
It is as if

               I call down the moon
               To frame your silhouette
               Embraced by another

It is as if

               The four winds
               Shall burn us both
               With the jealously
               Born from my nature

It is as if

               Each composition of
               Scented dialogue
               Withheld from my eyes
               Became a letter
               Of indiscretion
                              Unleashed upon the world