Monday, July 24

Being Us

Being You

he hated people.

they came at him from all sides.
beseiged his being with the consciousness
of one who has to belong.

he was taller than them.
he would always be.
he could read their minds too
and they thought they could read his!

he was already where fools fear to tread.
since there are no angels ...


Being Me

blood running thick by the side of a still green pond

mud flecked dull green rushes
knocking together, confused

he was glad he couldn't see them anymore
those devilish smiles which always looked the same

chiselled out of a need to be
who they had to be

all they knew to be
just like you and me


so like you and me

its who you wanted to be

and was it you I wanted to be

and you me?

Wednesday, July 19

Always - winter

voices rise to fever pitch
children turn blue
nothing old, nothing new

cold grey embers
clutch blindly
the invisible sun
and I remember

writhing, fading
celebrating
In the mist's
stranglehold

Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

sky unravels
its clammy coat
frosty brew
chilled just for you

rigid fight
numbing bite
iced eyelid
spiked lashes
welcome gashes

and if you see my reflection in a snow covered hill
well maybe....
the landslide will bring you down

frozen fingertips
finally feel right

Saturday, July 15

Relics

Blazing eyes. Impassive jaw. A headbutt.

Taut muscle. Dark calves. Smashing forehand.

Red streaking. Lightning lap. Champagne laugh.

Cloying campari. Curried clams. Cogent cracks.

"Lets try it another way
You'll lose your mind and play"

The Sunday Philosophy Club.

The Piper at the gates of Dawn.

Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf.

Sibilant senses. Smoky slims. Simmering silence.

"She often inclined to borrow somebody's dreams till tomorrow "

Sushi on saturday?
Sapphire sex?
Schnapps sodden soiree?
Sybaritic soapsuds?

He settled down on the acid carpet with a steaming teacup to see Emily play.


"There is no other day.."

For an ordinary man.

Friday, July 7

Gentlemen first...

What happens when you miss something so much that
the cigarette burns out on your toe
and you don't even notice?
When the music fades and you still hear it?
When the light breaks through the purple haze of invisible cloud
and you still only drift
in the comfortable black
of all you cannot see...

How much alcohol does it take to burn the insides like now?

He hadn't a clue
Maybe she had
Maybe she did
Maybe she could

Comforting thought that


Gut wrenching?

Not quite.

Just enough for a subtle curl of a nicotine stained lip
Picturing hers
frosted pearl
parched with longing

Dream on sweet child
Those eyes were always blind
Like yours

And all the while you knew
you were lying and smiling to yourself
because you needed to believe
it was true

Every shade of blue
You eked out of the green
Shutting out the cloying yellow
That clung on in triumph

Knowing they were right
all along

and real

Paint your dreams
and they'll never come true

Shut your eyes
and they just might