Monday, 31 October 2011

Sunday, 30 October 2011

Junk

I don’t share
because I care
I share
from a despair
that I need
to fill me
and spread
evenly
is maybe
less likely
to kill me
so you really
need to beware
of your dealings
with me and
my sweet talking
poisonous wares

Remembrance

that dress may hang for
eternity and a day
before I let go
and the
grim armoire recoils
at every mortal effort
to steal it’s treasure
while
not one of these four
walls can forget her fragrance
as they bleed her scent
she
who everyone loved
remembered even by the
rooms through which she moved

Saturday, 29 October 2011

What's Your Excuse?

no comfort here and
we’re fresh out of strangers
till death us do part
or something else rearranges
how did it arrive
so frigid and profound
life’s frightened excuse
for just hanging around

It's Not About You

I drink as much as I need
to breathe
I think as much as I need
to please
myself
no one else

This Is Why I Dont Keep Friends

you know how it is
thinking
out loud
and worrying
if I might be allowed
about the cloistered confines
the self celebratory
that circle jerk of the
cozy community
seeking out faint praise
for an awakening
dimly phased
so it's
a poets imperative
to turn their acerbic glass
upon themselves and ask
“why?”
and I’ll take that prerogative
and once I have found
my “because”
I will push for my
limitless sky
I might struggle to find
the how
the where
the when
but be damn sure
I’ll be spitting
hot hornets
until my then

My Exquisite Corpse

one hundred years from today
will my spirit dismay
shadowy guardian of generations
who somehow didn’t happen
lonely wraith walking
through blackened ash garden
or as honourable spectre
revered and respected
content in a bloodline
vigorous and sublime

Friday, 28 October 2011

Telling Tales

its good to tell a story
something far removed from truth
as baring your soul in a hundred words
can bring those chickens home to roost

Wednesday, 26 October 2011

What You Get

I try to write my words
conversationally
and I know they sometimes come out
confrontationally
but I’m writing how I’m feeling so
can you not see
that to couch them any differently
simply wouldn’t be me

Verger

I swam naked in France
a few years ago,
La Plage du Verger,
part nudist beach, yeah, I know

but I did it at the end
where you shouldn’t show
the part where you’re told
to keep it clothed

but I’m not so brazen
as to let it all swing
sunkissed and salty
swaying in the wind

no, grant me some degree
of British reserve
don’t brush me with a reputation
I don’t deserve

I waited till the ocean
had me firmly in her grip
before I let the speedos
triumphantly slip

and so there I was in freefall
all hands pointing south
when it slowly dawned on me
there’s things down there with mouths

who might take a shine
to morsels dangling in their reach
so the trunks were swiftly re-engaged
and I raced back to the beach

Gotcha

startled by a peeping sun,
sky and earth revealed undone
leap apart with shamed abruptness
forlorn lovers interrupted

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

We Were Expendable

no more rush for the factory gates
or bleary welcomes after whistle led race
no longer the shouts of “what shift you on mate?”
and befuddled replies “earlies, no, lates!”
the comforting throng of familial mass
at the end of each day that held no disgrace
when a days hard work meant a days earned pay
something they somehow forgot to replace
as our livelihoods fled eastwards to cheaper climes
and our citadels of labour fell rotting, debased

Monday, 24 October 2011

What's In A Name

born of sun and lion
I was griffin
protector of divine

but golden youngster
turned to sand
abrasive and malign

Wake Up

I don’t like sleeping
feel like I’m being cheated
half my days stolen

Words Blend

with such singular
vision the only have eyes
may be coloured blind

to the hidden prize
the sub-text in the margins
that fill the plot hole

Saturday, 22 October 2011

Ain't Frit

and now  the voices start
those grody sounds that stop your heart

beneath the floor within the walls
the precedent for dull footfalls

calling to us one by one
with no clear sight of saint or villain

a spectral round of hide and seek
directed by a floorboards creak

each time we search there’s nothing there
but of this guest we’re so aware

was it here first? we cant be sure
it wasn’t brought  from distant shores

as never had it raised its head
until that gift from land of Vlad

was carried over our threshold
but did this herald something cold

the bearer of an ancient fear
something as of yet unclear

or are we merely in the thrall
of phantoms more explainable

Please, Shut Up

I’m bombing it,
bombing it
tried to swallow back
the honesty
but I drank too much
my mouth has rushed
and now I got to vomit it
and spread the truth
around my walls
and slowly watch
my kingdom fall
in walking waking faking dreams
with worms of words
that wound and keen

Good Morning

with the cup of your ass
planted firm on my hips
the curve of your spine
pecked by impatient lips
strong arms are freed up
to reach round and caress
while hands do that thing
that you always like best
my love in you grows
as you grind to your rhythm
and before we both know it
we’re in the full grip of heaven

Thursday, 20 October 2011

This Soul Will Not Be Coerced

just here for the entertainment sir,
left all that contrition shit at the door
whats that?
an exclusion order restrains my ass
from communion with your holy mass?
I mean those flaming swords, dramatic touch,
but maybe just a little bit too much

see your man made laws they cant prevent me
confronting that holy trinity
and asking “what have you done recently
to help your pet, humanity?”
that silence is a deafening roar
“hey! watch it when you slam that door”
you might get me once I’m in my coffin
but until that time you’re getting nothing

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Full O’ Shite

I never could write

when I was
young
drunk
and
shitty

I thought Carole nailed it
when she said

my composted self
was the soil
for the fertile verse
of maturity

but then
here I go
shooting my mouth
again

I have no story to tell
nothing guaranteed
here then but
disappointment

Poetically Active

me
not inside
you
seems the best
thing to
do
while the
energy
pulses
and forms
ready fit
verses
so to
unleash these
urges
as physical
jizzes
would diminish
the power
we hold
in our
clutches

Talkin' It

you got me
rhyming while I’m walkin’
it’s the truth but
whod’a thought it

this addiction
of transfixtion
lends my fiction
an affliction

and my diction’s
deviation
from the station
of inaction

in addition
my reaction
to predictions
of elation

leaves a notion
of devotion,
and affection
non deservin’

Taking Stock

sweet Ariel on the wing
let loose your heart to sing
hold not those chains within
for every end must first begin

Sunday, 16 October 2011

Its Hard

I dreamed of you
as I lay
in that half light betwixt
night and day…
then way we played

I composed
a quiet symphony
with my lips
on tender breasts
and eager hips

but my hands
they played a fiercer game
and you drenched
my fingers with
honeyed rain

so when our bodies
finally meet
the shapes we formed
grew firm and tight
as one complete

and this embrace
warm and slick
glides and groans into
something more urgent
than playground frolic

unleashed and exploding
into one another
but then I’m awake
with nought but hard memory
of forbidden ardor

Saturday, 15 October 2011

Guile

the quickest way
to lose a friend?
an opened heart
that no longer pretends

this barren cupidity
can be allowed
by the veracity
of my here and now

but that doesn’t
resolve my burning
need for someone
to share these yearnings

Cheap

my heart’s not for sale
its free in a box of your
favourite cereal

Stay Away

today
may be the day
I fall so far
beyond your fair
grace

try as I may
there is no simple way
to spill
those truths my recreant
heart compels

torn, dissolute
and tormented
into explosive
fits through passion
I cannot share

the charming works
harbour such
rapacious sin
this way with words
a beast within

but I fear
no final reckoning
what frightens me
is the pain
that I could bring

to those
sweet souls
defiled herein
by proximity to
my amoral collapse

Friday, 14 October 2011

Pequeños Besos

those small kisses
can mean so much more
than liplocked
tongued drenched
face eating gorge-outs
instead
the tender brush
of lip on eyelid
and gentle peck
down length of neck
that don’t require the lights out
permit
soft grazes
of your wrists and hands
as a butterfly alights
with dewy lips writes
passages of the devout

Stain

I want so much
I’m not entitled to
and lose my heart
in places it’s not meant to go
I cannot give
what I could promise you
and should remove
my stain away from your virtue

October 14, 2011

this golden fall day
offered up a false promise
of springtime renewed

Fresh Delivery

this air smells new found
mine alone
virgin
unbreathed

not the promiscuous fug
of city gas
shared
unsheathed

Thursday, 13 October 2011

Fool

my heart opens quick
and warms in earnest fullness
just to be left ash

Elemental

find me
a periodic table
with all the elements
of my life
so I
can balance the equations
that bring me so much
fucking strife

Engaña

me convenzo a veces
que la atención es más
que efímero

eso a pesar de todo el ego
hay algo que para
el paso de las mentes

en la niebla que
el abandono licencioso previene
una reunion

de las almas que pertenecen
ensamblado a través el
pertenecer verdadero

pero por una parte completamente despierto
en la obscuridad de mi realidad
¿quién son yo que engaña?

One of my favourite poets is Pablo Neruda. His poetry translates beautifully into English and I thought I might try and pass something back the other way (I'm not kidding myself I'm any kind of Neruda). I would love any Spanish speakers to comment on whether it really makes sense and if it is at least vaguely entertaining

Lo-Fi

I play my part in the tragedy
that which life calls upon the human race
and with words never right enough
for the evil that desire wishes to write
forgetfulness of who I am
opens the gate to a garden
where fidelity forbids admission

Cada Corazón (gracias a Leslie)

mi corazón
mi corazón
qué corazón no bailaría
a esa canción
pero no convoque a
mi corazón
podría caer
donde no debe
y abra una puerta
en el jardín en donde
la fidelidad


Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Monday, 10 October 2011

Here We Go Again

today fear renewed
itself in my quivering
new job first day nerves

No Excuse

this ghost in my house
that lacks corporeal mass
must learn to close doors

A Kind Of Heaven

I remember this kind of heaven
and right now its where I need to be
corner sat in a midnight dive

drum, double bass, piano
with the icing on this cat’s cake
a redhead on the mic.

languid deep sliding
seducing my willing spine
and wire brushed rims coax

maundering ivory doodles
into lovelorn incantations
my smoky angel invokes

she’ll pour her shattered heart
into my icy tall Jack and
I’ll drink deep of her sorrow

until amongst disheveled wakening
I’ll kiss her soft back and wonder
where did the morning go

Sunday, 9 October 2011

Really?

disembodied discs
shine silver at the stair top
both cats sat on lap

Saturday, 8 October 2011

Lies, Damn Lies & The Weather

the weatherman
lies
you can see it in his
eyes
he tries to mask it with winks and
smiles
and friendly laughter that
beguiles
his speech all ciphers that
disguise
yes, the weatherman
lies

Falling

sepia confetti
as summer’s rusted brides fall
their contract fulfilled

Friday, 7 October 2011

Taxi

bottle poured grey slug
oozes full Jabba manner
then flicks the meter

Lune d'octobre

cold reclines the moon
on her flocculent cradle
in serene slumber
while
icy balefire
distant, beyond distance,
affords chill lustre

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Loose Lips Sink Ships

I have a somewhat chequered kiss-tory
never wholly about sexuality
rather something simply more friendly
though my wife she tends to disagree
and thinks my frankness terribly tawdry
that I possess a certain moral laxity
quite often it was people kissing me
a distinction that she failed to see

Such A Price To Pay

cold
down hometown lane
moth pulled
to the beacon blue
thick siren wail of
death’s ghastly debut

cruel
spiteful pother
masked sight
of the wrecking ball
that snuffed my young friends
flavian candle

crushed
sanguinary
grisly mound
flecked with scarlet dew
which grim grey blanket
can’t hide from my view

chill
wires bind my legs
but run
with blood like cold lead
while by the schools yard
I was the one dead

chatter
had preceded me
with news
of corpse with fair hair
many gasped and cried
as I now stood there

class
united in tears
we sang
with dust motes dancing
in sunlit eddies
“Morning Has Broken”
This one of those true moments in my life story. When I was nine years old I came across the immediate aftermath of a friend, called Paul, who was run over and killed while attempting to cross a road in thick fog to get to a candy store on the way to school. We all used to walk alone or with friends to school from a very early age back then. This was the first encounter with death in my life

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Original

I,
we,
me,
you
fruit rusted through
the pathogen
escaped from Eden,
damned before even begun

Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Get On

Forgiveness
doesn’t mean you should forget
like remembrance
shouldn’t cause you to regret

Rest

I dug the hole
that welcomed her home
to the earths resolute embrace
I opened the urn
of her powdered relics
for the wind to blow in my face
I cried no tears
as I laughed with her,
still fooling from some other place
I lay her deep
under roots of wild cherry
for her spirit to surely grace
I walked away
from fresh planted copse
forever now a sacred space