so shall these next eight lines
serve as certain and conclusive evidence
that poetry
(this kind of poetry)
is as elementary
as touching a key
that takes your illusory fountain pen
from one written line
to another

one day, one day, one day, armour
deadbeat brother’s gleaming armour
harmonizing with the armour
itching in embrace
gravity respects the armour
you’re a big boy now, my armour
deep below they hid my armour
all around the place.

one day, one day, one day, armour
underneath the living armour
golden all unclean, my armour
by the will of this
even this is god, my armour
realizing thicker armour
for what imitates my armour
substitutes for his.

one day, one day, one day, armour
piercing beams of being, armour
bollywood, besieged, my armour
nuclear in blue
razor field, eleven, armour
twelve, departing with the armour
clever, thirteen, dearest armour
multiplied by you.

one day, one day, one day, armour
not a situation, armour
ever universal, armour
only sharing flows
overthow the loving armour
love the overthrowing armour
lust for other greater armour
shall it overthrow.

of all the names to keep in sight
yours are the sharpest
denoise and watch us reunite
the ones that are just
belittled, fleeing underbreath
the rathe arrivers
recount the signs that have been dealt
a lifetime prior

trialed with love on better times
fruitlessly frantic
for apter notes or fitter rhymes
some order, planted
uncoiling subjects from your hand
as if you're equal
in reach for the desicion-man
the drudging eagle.

keep dancing on your master's knees
no questions uttered
miss not to arm yourself with these
heels bent to cut her
denoise and ler her understand
this aimless evil
in reach for the desicion-man
the taunted eagle.

you are a mole that has only one eye
you are a fish that has only one leg
crying to Yahweh for somewhere to cry
begging the spirits for someone to beg

go try one more time, mister raven
go try.

the albatross
is soon to find his way across
and in his busy claws

the albacore
a living mindful washed ashore
are we deserving more?

to you, who have not overcome this state
most any refuge might as well be lost
by now, by names, by numbers, carrying this weight
too late, don't wait, don't suffer for this noble cause
my albatross

until you meet
a deathly definite defeat
blow up the trees of dust
the clouds of wheat

until you find
a newly welcoming decline
protect these arms of yours
this heart of mine

must you inherit this unfading grief
that eats me up and secrets me inside
too late, don't wait, don't hope that it can ever leave
by luck, by force, don't think that you can ever hide
it will abide

my faithful guide

my coal black tide

my doubtful bride

keep up your fight

daisywheel skeleton
mother discovery
gleam at the thought of me
aftermath-free
curtain my bravery
sized-up and thundering
mending the memory bone
aftermath-bourne
never really alone

glad as a butterfly
just above all of this
minding the memory fear
aftermath-clear
over my final high
over with confidence
sober and overgrown
aftermath-bourne
never really alone

placeholder rhyming
for all of the hell of it
needed to understand
aftermath stays
times we get on with
times two on your silhouette
christen me as i am still
aftermath-filled
little left to reveal

paired over being
enough to un-harden this
millions of memories thread
aftermath-lead
almost as if we're
the first in this plane of things
ever to have been outsung
aftermath-run
carouseling as one

aftermath bravery
mother of harmony
soothing familiar
enough to un-harden me
christen my skeleton
butterfly confidence
love carouseling
itself over all of this
aftermath-flashes
and aftermath-shattering
aftermath matters
enough to un-harden me

when
are you coming again?

god made your head balloon with recognition
pouring these shots of friday we've been sipping on
and i, a needy god of my respectful own
have yet to make an effort to improve upon
a clever poem
or an able song
a yes-please-thank-you point of view
with no-please-thank-you dolours
relating red to wounds and rowan trees
relating sapphire to the social structures
of the all-embracing web
and camouflaging with disruptive sets of colours

the weekend's not so far away, routinely
spidering past, each season at a matching pace
and i, a needy god in my imperfect place
have yet to make an effort to avoid distress
no rationale, just
in whichever case
all you will have to do is wish
yourself upon this mountain
relating pink to acts of human aid
relating green to all the times you, grinning
johnny-cashed your green in - then
married the gold, married the endless shouting

there is a monk
his bed of rocks
i miss him
every time he talks

there is a monk
his box of oak
i've missed him
every time we spoke

there is a monk
his home of stone
i'll miss him
when i'm on my own

i have not a desire
to become an apt and voiceful poet
but a blooming hope to grow
into a word war general

everything is poetry
if you fancy
calling it
that
simply because
ah
come on now
nothing ever rhymes

me, others
all of my kin
aching
nearly cracking
all through this drunken state
we
time and time again
get stuck in
and still
i am inclined to
try and reclaim what's lacking
or, better yet
persist some more, if i can
if not
i shall no longer
keep the black in
like if i were
some kind of squid
or, maybe, i don't know
a *******
clockwork
kraken

make your way, still undiscovered
nurse the innocent hereafter and
turn to me, not as a lover
as a friend

find yourself
failing to forgive your famous father
then find yourself
in future, in a funk, in fever
then find yourself
fearful, frail and flaking away
then find yourself
faking friends with those aware of their familiar grace
then, finally, find youself
forgetting

see yourself
singing, sung, strengthened and strung out
then see yourself
silencing your sorrow's sighing sirens
then see yourself
selling scalps for salt and silver,
then see yourself
sinking in your sister's salads, seeking some significance
then, suddenly, see yourself
satisfied

so if i ever chance
upon a kind of home
a kind of home that's only spoken of
by someone with
no home to speak of

and if i'm ever able to
adopt a place of origin
a place of origin that's only so desired
by someone rooted deeply
in their given date
slash time
slash place
of origin

and if i ever forge
by force of noble chance
a humble claire de lune
a willing las meninas
or, guided right,
a broken hallelujah

then, baby lion,
i will buy myself
a very pompous wide-brimmed hat
so i could tip it
to your selfless yearning
for this selfish
little
soul.

espresso brown
meltwater cold
his timber crib
amid the holt

wax paper white
sage honey warm
this brightly gleaming
newly-born

still innocenceless
in a sense
the wiselad calls
his first demands

as champagne seeps
through closed up pores
"the pleasure - mine
the colour - yours."