I have laid claim to the Tyne Bridge - it is my home.
You can keep the streets, the shops, the bars
Share them between you
But please
Let me have the bridge for myself.

The bottle green arch of Newcastle,
And the stew of water that runs beneath
The sheer drop of air between them,
Lightly salted by the sea.

It is but the only childish affectation
To follow me and hold true
Through the contaminant of temporality.
Just please, let me keep it.

I shed the skin of adolescence
And left my school tie at home
When I made the journey North.

I arrived expecting transcendence
But instead I received the unwanted gift of the present.
From the clamour of Manhattan,
To the desolation of New Mexico and Peru,
The present will forever be the most effective ammunition
In shattering the stained glass of the world’s wonders.

I know this from the beauty of memories.
Those wonderful fragmented images of childhood
That so efficiently cut out the hours of exceeding boredom,
And the tedium inflicted by the men in suits.

And the future,
The future of flying ships,
The mining of the moon
And downloadable pizza.
But we know in truth, when we arrive
There will still be lawyers
And adverts,
Beggars on the street
And apostrophe’s used incorrectly.

I digress.

Let me return to the Tyne Bridge
My bridge on the Quayside.
For despite the bird ****
And the playboys that trundle over it day after day,
It stands defiant over deep waters,
Daring to cheat death
Or vice versa.

i went looking for you tonite
           in some daring fit of vision
i sought after you in my own flesh
i stared through the screen for you
i near blinded myself in a streetlight

i took on a fierce drinking session
                                      - a pounding of the bellows -
                                   i fought for you in the fire fight
and in a blight of fists
        i fought amongst barbarian company...

trench

                          ...though i thought i'd dredged my fill
                   i was shy by many-many shards
            and   one
                    big 
                  aching 
                 glory
                           and still... no you

i stumble

a drenching
i got dazed and a bit ****** up
with sick up in my gory hands
my mates look foreign at me
and i can't  get them words

my friends will not be moulded to assist
treacherous
they are leaving me behind

you are demonstration, demon and a cost
you wear a fancy shiny sleeve
     flirty
i love you
leisured up
                 you lure
                drunken ravage
fierce hole
        take some finance
i earned it *****
CONTAMINANT !

.......this is not you
    you're not here
(i am adamant)

on a mission
i pummel on the veils
in a fusion i rose the dead for a consult
but they fumbled 'bout awkward
much confusion
they picked at their seems
avoided eye contact
mumbled
probably wanted brains
or replacement parts :
a useless summoning

looking for you
i am well travelled
time and space and different versions of stuff
it's been spectacular
i've seen the bulk and can make a bigger picture
this odd fella laughed and gave me some kind of herb
i'm massive
i'm quite mad
in my lunacy I'll hunt you down
moon n' sea
gather you
a study
ungut beauty
splay ; enforce you a spread of wings
  pin
    display
      and examine
I'll be utter with your subject
be thorough with your data
because I'll never be forgiven
thieving away
the god from beauty....
and...
...and...

and i'm sure your just round the corner
a collision in the scriptures
and we'll merge

I'll make the night
      livid mural
stars and crashes
         flee out into the night
jabber
now it is milk
and i am tourist
in my own hand
thought fails fluid
spill
detested
demolition
upheaval

Let my ferocity, and passion eloquently paint the pictures in my own regrets, tattering the canvas of my own flesh.

Let the foul, and the sweet, mesh together into brilliant concepts caught from the thinning air that only you can breathe.

Let me inhale deeply, savoring every contaminant, every exacerbation, and every nothing that means everything to you.

Let me touch you with every inch, with every intention, and every lust of smiling eyes, that pass over you when you walk by.

Let my fears fill you up with the love intended to be, just let me, be, next to you, in a storm of our foolishness, numbing our chores for the day.

Lets lose ourselves afloat in static temptations powerlessness, as it pulls our eyes closer to the ends.

Lets no longer resist natural instinct, and merely exist in the same place this day, so that we may long for our tomorrow.

I've felt sadness
I've felt it in my heart
My brain
My chest
My robot limbs
Coursing through my veins;
My low killing contaminant.

I've felt it slither through me
At the most unsuspecting times,
As I lay in bed at night
Thinking of you.

My own personal viper,
Rich red, blood red,
Deadly and vicious.
Sent especially for me,
From you, with condolences.

How thoughtful.
The beast is implacable.
He stalks me day and night.
But not so restlessly
As the thoughts of you.

I suspect you planned it.
Nothing is so obvious
You are in the very air I inhale
In each platonic gesture
Forced kisses and apathetic eyes
Eyes blinking through a blurry haze.

Nothing.
Nothingness.

There's an empty feeling inside my heart,
Like someone came and stole it away
And maybe you did.

O how far
we are
from the benefit
of brotherly comfort

For if we
form agreement
that pain inflicted---
or of affliction---
is contemporary
in the minds of the wise,  
then, perhaps,
that river
of indifference will
be ******

O how wise
it would be to
bridge some pitfall---
at the bottom conflict---
to remove this apparatus
of affliction---this monkey
on the back of culture---
to yearn for healing---that
is the constant contaminant
of men, no need to look
any further
than art itself

uncomfortably unsure
so unstable is being content
one minute so sure the next not

the utmost unrest lies within the gut
what was solid is loose
what was safe is confining

one contaminant
one seed planted can uproot
the entire foundation

such a fanatic into a heretic
there is no such thing as permanence
and those in the wake will hurt

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The pulpit is a lonely place,
at a height just below
the nosebleed level.
It's very similar to the bench,
where white-wigged
robed-people
hand out sentences
to the so-called vermin.

I love them,
the stereo-typed
lowlifes of the world
who struggle with conformity,
who know about scraped knees
& broken hearts,
who are forever tainted,
scribbling.

You see, a life
sheltered by power
is way too antiseptic
for a lowly person like me.
I'd rather be a human contaminant,
than a holder of the clean tissue,
they understand nothing,
while we bleed out love
through our noses.

i miss the dancing
and the unextinguishable lightness
of neon taffy sun rays
their barbed tails dripping
with honey as skates
flutter their wings in harmony
to stir sand and silt
and muddy waters
shatter crystal crysalises
cast shadow on frozen aquatic scenes
sandpaper skin
camouflages cartilaginous confessions

there is no dancing
in suspended animation
cryo-tanks where duplicitously drumming hearts
are stopped cold
atomic vibrations not buzzing
nor breathing objects
calling vivaciously to be consumed

tear me open
release the sensuous siren
whose diaphanous frocks
whip wildly in her
placid pirouette and
caresses my face like
a mother’s hand wiping away
tears which released the pain
that constant inescapable pressure
lance my skin
and bring forth that vile contaminant
slice the membrane around my heart
and in my crimson blood
in my metallic olfactory orchestra
separate dissonance from coalescence
and understand my conundrum
distill my banned message
and decode my heart.