a cold long wait
or a warm inviting one
lilting along a luminous lullaby
loving every little linger
along the lonely winding winterway
for all you who sleep tonight
for all you who weep tonight
for all you who creep into
furrowed familiar facades
of formidable futures
fashioned by soft sweet fingers
feeling for fantasies
fallen by the wayside
am I freaking you out?
Hannibal just offered me a slice of pie
requiem for a redolent lie
I'm just here to die
smile sweetheart and ask me why
as the smoke muses merrily up
to a rough brown sky
arms wide open
lips sealed
to a lost pipe
you claimed was all yours
as I grimace at the rotting tobacco
rife with the smell of last night
lost night
lost fight
last bite
and you just might
but not quite
find a piece of me
on your windscreen
glimpse a touch of me
through your smokecreen
taste a bit of me
on your coffee cup
waste a lot of me
as you fuck up.
Monday, December 11
Saturday, December 9
Tuesday, November 7
When you know and you don't
We always knew
It would come to this
THIS
like a brand new end
to a fairytale
that never was
and with every new slash
and every bit of sticky
viscous red
you wish it was just a new day
with no yesterdays
that scream on forever and ever
cling on like the rotten stench
of puke
you promised you'd clean up
and leave but a whiff of
fresh paint
intoxicating
dark untrodden corridoors
and a sketchbook
white as snow
untouched
untroubled
unblemished
untrue
only for you
like the goldfish
lying strangled
without reason
without fear
always near
and shining
dead
carefully carelessly
DEAD
It would come to this
THIS
like a brand new end
to a fairytale
that never was
and with every new slash
and every bit of sticky
viscous red
you wish it was just a new day
with no yesterdays
that scream on forever and ever
cling on like the rotten stench
of puke
you promised you'd clean up
and leave but a whiff of
fresh paint
intoxicating
dark untrodden corridoors
and a sketchbook
white as snow
untouched
untroubled
unblemished
untrue
only for you
like the goldfish
lying strangled
without reason
without fear
always near
and shining
dead
carefully carelessly
DEAD
Sunday, October 15
dead or alive
why are we here?
for me or for them?
why do we laugh?
because we remember or forget?
why do we hurt?
because we want to smile again?
why do we rage?
because we need them?
why are we dead?
because we did none of the above
--------------------
carnival night
I'm here
and not there
not quite anyway
not white
not black
no spite
just quiet
with a beer
and no bite
people milling
tautly willing
thronging
cobbled streets
dubious feet
downing wheat
smiling sweet
crunching meat
forgetting
sweating
abetting
a new world
gently curled
unfurled
around the edges
of her new summer dress
pink with pain
no room for a brain
swaying
again and again
trying in vain
to get home
to what never was
hoegarden on the house
any takers?
for me or for them?
why do we laugh?
because we remember or forget?
why do we hurt?
because we want to smile again?
why do we rage?
because we need them?
why are we dead?
because we did none of the above
--------------------
carnival night
I'm here
and not there
not quite anyway
not white
not black
no spite
just quiet
with a beer
and no bite
people milling
tautly willing
thronging
cobbled streets
dubious feet
downing wheat
smiling sweet
crunching meat
forgetting
sweating
abetting
a new world
gently curled
unfurled
around the edges
of her new summer dress
pink with pain
no room for a brain
swaying
again and again
trying in vain
to get home
to what never was
hoegarden on the house
any takers?
Tuesday, October 10
Damn
The sky was darkening
in a way she loved
the sun was dead
high up above
her eyes were barely open
hard work
on a pointless afternoon
resurfacing quirks
need to be shelved
and of course I can't write anymore
because when it happens
it's more than it ever was
or will be
timeout
I need to frown
and say
I do.
------------------
Damnation
Get back in there
stay put
sweet murder is afoot
don't make a sound
don't move
stay numb
right in your groove
they will not let you cry
just slowly watch you fry
they will not let you try
yet they will not let you die
toss the syringe
fetch the quack
blind him
till he can't look back
Happy Birthday John
in a way she loved
the sun was dead
high up above
her eyes were barely open
hard work
on a pointless afternoon
resurfacing quirks
need to be shelved
and of course I can't write anymore
because when it happens
it's more than it ever was
or will be
timeout
I need to frown
and say
I do.
------------------
Damnation
Get back in there
stay put
sweet murder is afoot
don't make a sound
don't move
stay numb
right in your groove
they will not let you cry
just slowly watch you fry
they will not let you try
yet they will not let you die
toss the syringe
fetch the quack
blind him
till he can't look back
Happy Birthday John
Tuesday, October 3
Coldwater Morning
He stared and stared. Squinting at a dazed new day. He wasn't quite sure where he was. The air smelt good. Like freshly churned butter.
His breath was regular, unfettered. His skin tingled with a sense of wonder. Had it been sleeping this long? What was he missing? The throbbing nerves in his temples? Why were they suddenly so still, like butterflies long flown -
and you wondered, had they ever really been there?
He recognised the strains of a fugue playing in his head- how long since his fingers were alive and making music? Seemed easy enough then, and again... today. Yes he would. After a hearty eggs and bacon fill. Curl up on the window ledge with the Sunday Philosophy Club that had been lying invitingly untouched for months. It seemed like the right time. He may even fish out his old sketchbook and a bunch of crayons and laugh at his scribbled attempts at turning his heart inside out.
Laugh? Wow!
Just the thought made him shake his head in sheer amazement. He smiled self consciously at the imaginary bird on the steadfast tree outside and ambled over to the front door to pick up the newspaper.It wasn't there. Pity. Just when he'd actually looked forward to reading it rather than moon through BBC world while switching channels in half baked hysteria on the much maddening tv set.
Yes he would enjoy the quiet for a bit. The deadening dullness of daily dark thoughts seemed to have gone into hiding, and his mind felt empty and crisp. Waiting for lush new fodder - but not quite hungry yet.
Had someone worked a spell on him? It wasn't the pills. That felt different. His steps were slow and steady. Fetching tea and sipping it gently from a steaming blue cup, he realised he hadn't even bothered to log on to email, as was the inevitably obsessive ritual everyday when his eyes opened, over that first cigarette.
The tea actually tasted better without the smoke. Or perhaps it was just the change and his unclogged nostrils. He leaned back on the couch sniffing the air to detect a difference, glanced at the doorknob which he seemed to notice for the first time - stretched lazily and tapped and rubbed the soles of his feet on the cool cracked leather- puzzled and pleased. What was that old joke about the dog and the bone? Whoever said the dog couldn't be happy without? He would write a better one. A whole book perhaps. Or maybe a song?
This was getting more and more intrigueing. He would make this a day to remember. Hold on to it while it lasts and make it special. Wear his favourite purple lambswool jumper-pretend it was his favourite time of year, put up a few postcards and pop some rich dark ale and listen to a game on radio. No TV today. He grinned excitedly at the thought again.
It was time.
He looked out across the horizon. There was not a speck of darkness. Nor light. No.
But yes, it was morning
Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see-
Im just a poor boy,i need no sympathy-
Because Im easy come,easy go,
A little high,little low,
Anyway the wind blows,doesnt really matter to me,
To me
(Freddie Mercury- A Bohemian Rhapsody)
His breath was regular, unfettered. His skin tingled with a sense of wonder. Had it been sleeping this long? What was he missing? The throbbing nerves in his temples? Why were they suddenly so still, like butterflies long flown -
and you wondered, had they ever really been there?
He recognised the strains of a fugue playing in his head- how long since his fingers were alive and making music? Seemed easy enough then, and again... today. Yes he would. After a hearty eggs and bacon fill. Curl up on the window ledge with the Sunday Philosophy Club that had been lying invitingly untouched for months. It seemed like the right time. He may even fish out his old sketchbook and a bunch of crayons and laugh at his scribbled attempts at turning his heart inside out.
Laugh? Wow!
Just the thought made him shake his head in sheer amazement. He smiled self consciously at the imaginary bird on the steadfast tree outside and ambled over to the front door to pick up the newspaper.It wasn't there. Pity. Just when he'd actually looked forward to reading it rather than moon through BBC world while switching channels in half baked hysteria on the much maddening tv set.
Yes he would enjoy the quiet for a bit. The deadening dullness of daily dark thoughts seemed to have gone into hiding, and his mind felt empty and crisp. Waiting for lush new fodder - but not quite hungry yet.
Had someone worked a spell on him? It wasn't the pills. That felt different. His steps were slow and steady. Fetching tea and sipping it gently from a steaming blue cup, he realised he hadn't even bothered to log on to email, as was the inevitably obsessive ritual everyday when his eyes opened, over that first cigarette.
The tea actually tasted better without the smoke. Or perhaps it was just the change and his unclogged nostrils. He leaned back on the couch sniffing the air to detect a difference, glanced at the doorknob which he seemed to notice for the first time - stretched lazily and tapped and rubbed the soles of his feet on the cool cracked leather- puzzled and pleased. What was that old joke about the dog and the bone? Whoever said the dog couldn't be happy without? He would write a better one. A whole book perhaps. Or maybe a song?
This was getting more and more intrigueing. He would make this a day to remember. Hold on to it while it lasts and make it special. Wear his favourite purple lambswool jumper-pretend it was his favourite time of year, put up a few postcards and pop some rich dark ale and listen to a game on radio. No TV today. He grinned excitedly at the thought again.
It was time.
He looked out across the horizon. There was not a speck of darkness. Nor light. No.
But yes, it was morning
Is this the real life-
Is this just fantasy-
Caught in a landslide-
No escape from reality-
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see-
Im just a poor boy,i need no sympathy-
Because Im easy come,easy go,
A little high,little low,
Anyway the wind blows,doesnt really matter to me,
To me
(Freddie Mercury- A Bohemian Rhapsody)
Thursday, September 28
Tough choices
when your life's a fairytale
when your heart's on email
when your mind's asail
on the boat to nowhere
savour the punch
flavour the lunch
roll a fresh fag
bleed the last drag
catch me a lemon
crack me the weed
gift me your best
kick me the seed
when was it morning
when was it night
when is the right time
to pick a good fight?
float me a fable
a la clark gable
wish me a moonflake
I'd never forsake
fireworks tonight
head feels the bite
tongue drips the spite
eyes fade the light
--------------------------
Stay (Wright, Waters)
Stay and help me to end the day.
And if you don't mind,
We'll break a bottle of wine.
Stick around and maybe we'll put one down,
Because I wanna find what lies behind those eyes.
Midnight blue burning gold.
A yellow moon is growing cold.
I rise, looking through my morning eyes,
Surprised to find you by my side.
Rack my brain to try to remember your name
To find the words to tell you good-bye.
Morning dues.
Newborn day.
Midnight blue turned to gray.
Midnight blue burning gold.
A yellow moon is growing cold.
(from 'Obscured by clouds')
Monday, September 25
Break(in)
"Why do I keep beating myself with a hammer?
To feel real?
Because it feels so good when I stop. "
(Grey's anatomy)
No
It doesn't.
That's when the soreness really kicks in.
The futility of it all?
Yes
So I just find another hammer.
For variety
For thrills
for chills.
Why?
Because I can.
And you can't.
And you shan't.
Stop.
Is just another word
I haven't heard.
Cry
Is a non option
Rivers run dry.
Try?
Perhaps one day
When I can truly say
I broke the hammer
Just to stay alive.
To feel real?
Because it feels so good when I stop. "
(Grey's anatomy)
No
It doesn't.
That's when the soreness really kicks in.
The futility of it all?
Yes
So I just find another hammer.
For variety
For thrills
for chills.
Why?
Because I can.
And you can't.
And you shan't.
Stop.
Is just another word
I haven't heard.
Cry
Is a non option
Rivers run dry.
Try?
Perhaps one day
When I can truly say
I broke the hammer
Just to stay alive.
Thursday, September 21
Squeal if you care, keel if you dare
It's rainin men
hallelujah
they paved paradise
to put up a parking lot
Cos I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other one's givin a high five
(Ginger, Joni, Alannis)
-----------------------------------------
sweet child o mine
did you know
that the only bliss
I ever foresaw
was that one nanocigarette
sitting liberated
on the sidewalk
by the grocer's den
as a million passers by
drift by in sheer disdain
or predictable indifference
and you know
more than ever before
that the sky is yours
for the taking
and all those cars
you were afraid to drive
and every cockroach
that got in the way
were merely passers by
filtered by a haze of smoke
all yours
only yours
forever and ever
amen???
crack open the secret chest
of hidden treasure
and find
bottles
of chinese wine
nurtured
on aeons of esoteria
I've lost the key to
finally
one a penny
two a penny
hot cross buns
have you seen the elephant
'course you have
and you thought
it was a vascillating volvo
veering veritably
voracious-ly
via vicious venn diagrams
vending viagra
villifying
voraciously
the vivisection
of yet another
vintage
veiled
vaporous
vosciferous
vignette
of the veracious vamp
vacuously
voluptuous
vowing vengeance
where werewolves wished
they withered
with the wind
wings of the dove
puissilant paraphernalia
spelling errors
are here to be
let's play tag
and if you can get me
all said and done
I'll shoot you down
in my pink sequinned gown
with my very own
kitsch upholstered gun,
lol!
scared yet?
bemused?
refused?
used?
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOURS WIFE
Moses was a dude
with a fancy hood
Give me glucose
'stead o' manna
give me rainforest
in place of savannah
and I swear
to every fake God
that ever lived
this world
will go under
right down under
no matter what
no matter who
with or without you
I can't live
with or without you
Goddamned Oscillating Dog
greying gills
gushing Givenchy
go get gummy bears
It's all your good for
As you wait warily
for them to write you off
like they did Pluto.
Who the fuck is Alice??
hallelujah
they paved paradise
to put up a parking lot
Cos I've got one hand in my pocket
and the other one's givin a high five
(Ginger, Joni, Alannis)
-----------------------------------------
sweet child o mine
did you know
that the only bliss
I ever foresaw
was that one nanocigarette
sitting liberated
on the sidewalk
by the grocer's den
as a million passers by
drift by in sheer disdain
or predictable indifference
and you know
more than ever before
that the sky is yours
for the taking
and all those cars
you were afraid to drive
and every cockroach
that got in the way
were merely passers by
filtered by a haze of smoke
all yours
only yours
forever and ever
amen???
crack open the secret chest
of hidden treasure
and find
bottles
of chinese wine
nurtured
on aeons of esoteria
I've lost the key to
finally
one a penny
two a penny
hot cross buns
have you seen the elephant
'course you have
and you thought
it was a vascillating volvo
veering veritably
voracious-ly
via vicious venn diagrams
vending viagra
villifying
voraciously
the vivisection
of yet another
vintage
veiled
vaporous
vosciferous
vignette
of the veracious vamp
vacuously
voluptuous
vowing vengeance
where werewolves wished
they withered
with the wind
wings of the dove
puissilant paraphernalia
spelling errors
are here to be
let's play tag
and if you can get me
all said and done
I'll shoot you down
in my pink sequinned gown
with my very own
kitsch upholstered gun,
lol!
scared yet?
bemused?
refused?
used?
THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOURS WIFE
Moses was a dude
with a fancy hood
Give me glucose
'stead o' manna
give me rainforest
in place of savannah
and I swear
to every fake God
that ever lived
this world
will go under
right down under
no matter what
no matter who
with or without you
I can't live
with or without you
Goddamned Oscillating Dog
greying gills
gushing Givenchy
go get gummy bears
It's all your good for
As you wait warily
for them to write you off
like they did Pluto.
Who the fuck is Alice??
Tuesday, September 19
Whither?
turning back I said...
the clock?
the race?
my face?
turning back to look again
for who knows what
might strike again
rewind
glance behind
the light you find
could leave you blind.
even as the setting sun
bids you fast
to make the run
you tarry once
you tarry twice
you hurry back
for one more slice
green apple madness
apricot sadness
dry ice gladness
the sky is a mess.
who needs a sunset
when sunrise is nigh
I've got my shadow
to hug and get high
just want a likeness
to breakfast in brightness
bask in the tightness
of true crafted lies.
for thine is the kingdom
no matter how fake
and mine is to perfect
the icing on cake
and ere it is darkness
the feast shall be done
no turning back
the race has been run
and what of those eyes
that still search the dark
for footprints that vanished
and yet left their mark
embrace the timepiece
unlock the day
undress the shower
embellish the fray
Wake up-
It's just another day.
the clock?
the race?
my face?
turning back to look again
for who knows what
might strike again
rewind
glance behind
the light you find
could leave you blind.
even as the setting sun
bids you fast
to make the run
you tarry once
you tarry twice
you hurry back
for one more slice
green apple madness
apricot sadness
dry ice gladness
the sky is a mess.
who needs a sunset
when sunrise is nigh
I've got my shadow
to hug and get high
just want a likeness
to breakfast in brightness
bask in the tightness
of true crafted lies.
for thine is the kingdom
no matter how fake
and mine is to perfect
the icing on cake
and ere it is darkness
the feast shall be done
no turning back
the race has been run
and what of those eyes
that still search the dark
for footprints that vanished
and yet left their mark
embrace the timepiece
unlock the day
undress the shower
embellish the fray
Wake up-
It's just another day.
Saturday, September 16
Monday, September 11
All right tonight
tonight
I cannot think of angels...
No nor witches either
I cannot fan the flames that lie dying yet again
tonight
I will not seek redemption
No nor solace even
I cannot bridge the distance that grows longer everyday
tonight
I'll dream of echoes
those words that had been writ
of every wasted whisper
now muted bit by bit
whoever thought they'd live on
whoever thought they'd shine
made every magic moment
yet another glass of wine
and tonight
will be the damning
of another nasty mile
erasing every tremor
with calmly practised guile
--------------------------------------
tonight
there'll be no shadows
no lurking frightened eyes
no coat to give you cover
no food for telltale highs
the bed of thorns is breaking
the dark lord strikes again
the steel inside is cracking
and silence gnaws the pain
Tired fingers aching mind
No glory left to see
All alone on stormy seas
Fighting still to be
So close your eyes and listen
Lay your head on me awhile
Let the fever flow out gently
As I will your heart to smile
So won't you let go for a bit
and rest your faith in me
and let me fetch you just this once
a steaming cup of tea?
I cannot think of angels...
No nor witches either
I cannot fan the flames that lie dying yet again
tonight
I will not seek redemption
No nor solace even
I cannot bridge the distance that grows longer everyday
tonight
I'll dream of echoes
those words that had been writ
of every wasted whisper
now muted bit by bit
whoever thought they'd live on
whoever thought they'd shine
made every magic moment
yet another glass of wine
and tonight
will be the damning
of another nasty mile
erasing every tremor
with calmly practised guile
--------------------------------------
tonight
there'll be no shadows
no lurking frightened eyes
no coat to give you cover
no food for telltale highs
the bed of thorns is breaking
the dark lord strikes again
the steel inside is cracking
and silence gnaws the pain
Tired fingers aching mind
No glory left to see
All alone on stormy seas
Fighting still to be
So close your eyes and listen
Lay your head on me awhile
Let the fever flow out gently
As I will your heart to smile
So won't you let go for a bit
and rest your faith in me
and let me fetch you just this once
a steaming cup of tea?
Friday, September 8
woher
weary
were we
where ye
where are we
we woo
werewolf
we are wolves
no
nowhere
nowhere man
werewoman
wore man
war won
one whore
whole or
one hole
home
woman
womb
tomb
who killed my story?
were we
where ye
where are we
we woo
werewolf
we are wolves
no
nowhere
nowhere man
werewoman
wore man
war won
one whore
whole or
one hole
home
woman
womb
tomb
who killed my story?
Tuesday, August 29
Untrue
I'll sit on this tall green hill
and wait for you
I'll stare into the sun
and you'll have no clue
I'll sit on this big brown rock
and look for you
and let the ice and sleet
freeze me blue
I'll stand on the purple water's edge
and search for you
and the ducks will laugh
as they always do
I'll lie on a dusky desert dune
and wish for you
and the sands will swell
and bury us two.
and wait for you
I'll stare into the sun
and you'll have no clue
I'll sit on this big brown rock
and look for you
and let the ice and sleet
freeze me blue
I'll stand on the purple water's edge
and search for you
and the ducks will laugh
as they always do
I'll lie on a dusky desert dune
and wish for you
and the sands will swell
and bury us two.
I'D LIKE TO BE UNDER THE SEA,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN IN THE SHADE.
WE WOULD BE WARM, BELOW THE STORM,
IN OUR LITTLE HIDEAWAY BENEATH THE WAVES.
RESTING OUR HEAD ON THE SEA BED,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN NEAR A CAVE.
WE WOULD SING AND DANCE AROUND
BECAUSE WE KNOW WE CAN'T BE FOUND.
WE WOULD SHOUT AND SWIM ABOUT
THE CORAL THAT LIES BENEATH THE WAVES.
(Lies beneath the ocean waves)
OH, WHAT JOY (ah) FOR EV'RY GIRL AND BOY
KNOWING WE'RE HAPPY AND THEY'RE SAFE.
(Happy and they're safe)
WE WOULD BE SO HAPPY YOU AND ME;
NO ONE THERE TO TELL US WHAT TO DO.
I'D LIKE TO BE UNDER THE SEA,
IN AN OCTOPUS'S GARDEN WITH YOU
(Ringo Starr)
Thursday, August 24
Yes
How did you know?
That you could just speak softly, and it would
slice my mind into shreds that cannot see each other;
and the bits would float here and there and
collide in confusion even as they remain
warmly cocooned in that soft silk handkerchief
that your words weave so gently.
And everything you say is just
the whipped cream on a warm rich coffee cup
which lies on your desk four thousand miles away.
So how is it that I wake up with the dark heady fragrance
that lies beneath and threatens the core that rules?
The knotted knuckles, the open palm, the fiercely tender grip
of waiting arms and the raging head
inclined just enough to rest lightly on mine as I
press my cheek to yours... craving its strange dark sweetness.
You didn't say what I thought you would.
You didn't do what I thought you might.
You just stayed awake and kept me afloat all through the stormy ride.
Chased me when I hid, teased me when I froze,
laughed when I ranted and cried with me in silent confusion
And oh we played, like no two people ever had.
Like no two people ever will.
Cut
Retake
You didn't know
That I could be who you
wanted me to
and that with every tender word I cut a piece of you
and preserve it till the salt and vinegar
sting you into cosy shades of purple
and you look in the mirror and smile
at the stranger you live with now
pink with pleasure cradled
in casual clever crimson
As you soak deeper into the jar of honey
with invisible inches of the inflammable
pasts we'd both forgotten
and the futures that we willingly burn
for one smoke filled night.
That you could just speak softly, and it would
slice my mind into shreds that cannot see each other;
and the bits would float here and there and
collide in confusion even as they remain
warmly cocooned in that soft silk handkerchief
that your words weave so gently.
And everything you say is just
the whipped cream on a warm rich coffee cup
which lies on your desk four thousand miles away.
So how is it that I wake up with the dark heady fragrance
that lies beneath and threatens the core that rules?
The knotted knuckles, the open palm, the fiercely tender grip
of waiting arms and the raging head
inclined just enough to rest lightly on mine as I
press my cheek to yours... craving its strange dark sweetness.
You didn't say what I thought you would.
You didn't do what I thought you might.
You just stayed awake and kept me afloat all through the stormy ride.
Chased me when I hid, teased me when I froze,
laughed when I ranted and cried with me in silent confusion
And oh we played, like no two people ever had.
Like no two people ever will.
Cut
Retake
You didn't know
That I could be who you
wanted me to
and that with every tender word I cut a piece of you
and preserve it till the salt and vinegar
sting you into cosy shades of purple
and you look in the mirror and smile
at the stranger you live with now
pink with pleasure cradled
in casual clever crimson
As you soak deeper into the jar of honey
with invisible inches of the inflammable
pasts we'd both forgotten
and the futures that we willingly burn
for one smoke filled night.
Saturday, August 19
Fission
The sun forgot to set today.
It hadn't set an alarm. The blackberry packed up.
It continued on auto pilot without a thought
for the moon
that kept waiting, waiting.
----
Lightning struck
Ashes of roses
all over cream satin
Thunder stood by
the rain held its own
Clouds applauded
As the stars undressed her
----
Edgy icicles
Shattered snow
Rosewood hours
Stark and slow
Fire and water
Friend and foe
Your time is up
with miles to go
------
The chocolate woods
Didn't blink
Soot ablaze
Castrated cold
He clothed himself
bit by bit
with dying embers
of the phantom storm
A rusty road raced by
Pale pink
Placid pucker
An army of ants
A lone gray sky
watched
them break.
It hadn't set an alarm. The blackberry packed up.
It continued on auto pilot without a thought
for the moon
that kept waiting, waiting.
----
Lightning struck
Ashes of roses
all over cream satin
Thunder stood by
the rain held its own
Clouds applauded
As the stars undressed her
----
Edgy icicles
Shattered snow
Rosewood hours
Stark and slow
Fire and water
Friend and foe
Your time is up
with miles to go
------
The chocolate woods
Didn't blink
Soot ablaze
Castrated cold
He clothed himself
bit by bit
with dying embers
of the phantom storm
A rusty road raced by
Pale pink
Placid pucker
An army of ants
A lone gray sky
watched
them break.
Tuesday, August 15
Carpe Diem
Apple green tea. Not green apple tea.
The difference is more than subtle.
Like the morning before and the morning after.
A cigarette lit and one unlit.
Promise of another day or just today?
Pencils sharpened for a math exam
Pencils blunted to sketch the shadows in her eyes
A jug of cream or a dash of caviar
Leg of lamb or touch of terrine
A shot of Remy Martin Louis XIII
A pitcher of Heineken
Racing head, hollow heart
Empty safe
Brand new start
-----------------------------------
He was old
He was smart
She was bold
Yet just a tart
He was a bore
She wanted more
She's the whore
He proudly wore
They kissed all night
No love no fight
She milked him dry
He loved to cry
-----------------------------------
The clouds are turnin' crimson
The leaves fall from the limbs an'
The branches cast their shadows over stone
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
The boulevards of cypress trees
The masquerades of birds and bees
The petals, pink and white, the wind has blown
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
My pulse is runnin' through my palm
The sharp hills are rising from
The yellow fields with twisted oaks that groan
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
(Bob Dylan- Moonlight)
The difference is more than subtle.
Like the morning before and the morning after.
A cigarette lit and one unlit.
Promise of another day or just today?
Pencils sharpened for a math exam
Pencils blunted to sketch the shadows in her eyes
A jug of cream or a dash of caviar
Leg of lamb or touch of terrine
A shot of Remy Martin Louis XIII
A pitcher of Heineken
Racing head, hollow heart
Empty safe
Brand new start
-----------------------------------
He was old
He was smart
She was bold
Yet just a tart
He was a bore
She wanted more
She's the whore
He proudly wore
They kissed all night
No love no fight
She milked him dry
He loved to cry
-----------------------------------
The clouds are turnin' crimson
The leaves fall from the limbs an'
The branches cast their shadows over stone
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
The boulevards of cypress trees
The masquerades of birds and bees
The petals, pink and white, the wind has blown
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
My pulse is runnin' through my palm
The sharp hills are rising from
The yellow fields with twisted oaks that groan
Won't you meet me out in the moonlight alone?
(Bob Dylan- Moonlight)
Saturday, August 12
In the Flesh
Stench of burning flesh
Bloody innards
Slashed inside out
Delicate lacerations
Carefully executed
Controlled frenzy
living art
On display for a few hours only
Skip dinner
Feast your eyes
And mind
While it still breathes
Through fevered eyes
And a choked gullet
Croaking silently
for release
Oblivion won't come easy
You're on camera honey
Every ounce
of well earned pain
Gifted with razor sharp
tenderness...
And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I want you to know who I am
(Iris- the Goo Goo dolls)
Bloody innards
Slashed inside out
Delicate lacerations
Carefully executed
Controlled frenzy
living art
On display for a few hours only
Skip dinner
Feast your eyes
And mind
While it still breathes
Through fevered eyes
And a choked gullet
Croaking silently
for release
Oblivion won't come easy
You're on camera honey
Every ounce
of well earned pain
Gifted with razor sharp
tenderness...
And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life,
And sooner or later it's over,
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
And I don't want the world to see me,
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand.
When everything's made to be broken,
I just want you to know who I am.
I want you to know who I am
(Iris- the Goo Goo dolls)
Thursday, August 10
Bridge too Far
You don't know me
you never will.
I'm far away
And I did
try
to let you be
That perfect person
for a while
To melt
gently into
that rush of
blood
And muck
that's me.
I won't
feel you
anymore
I can't
even remember
how I did
And I am
invisibly
distilled
in your laundry
bag
And you
are nowhere
at all
My eyes
are gleaming
As I lean over
your still shadow
Waiting
for me to
miss you
as I do not
kiss
the mess
that no longer
Sleeps
on my pouting
pillow
Waft your way
across
tomorrow
will you?
While I
hover here
in your darkling
den
when
waves sleep
silently
In another world
that knew no storm
or even a quiet
hello
Whispered
from the other end of a life
I never had
And you
did
not
No
know
Yes
guess
less...
Save it
for when
We won't need bridges
to get there
get here
get near
Crushed ice
warming
Footsteps forming
as the sea
pulls away
Mayday
Over and out.
Did you hear that?
you never will.
I'm far away
And I did
try
to let you be
That perfect person
for a while
To melt
gently into
that rush of
blood
And muck
that's me.
I won't
feel you
anymore
I can't
even remember
how I did
And I am
invisibly
distilled
in your laundry
bag
And you
are nowhere
at all
My eyes
are gleaming
As I lean over
your still shadow
Waiting
for me to
miss you
as I do not
kiss
the mess
that no longer
Sleeps
on my pouting
pillow
Waft your way
across
tomorrow
will you?
While I
hover here
in your darkling
den
when
waves sleep
silently
In another world
that knew no storm
or even a quiet
hello
Whispered
from the other end of a life
I never had
And you
did
not
No
know
Yes
guess
less...
Save it
for when
We won't need bridges
to get there
get here
get near
Crushed ice
warming
Footsteps forming
as the sea
pulls away
Mayday
Over and out.
Did you hear that?
Tuesday, August 8
Guilty
Guilty as hell
he could tell
She was squirming
Guilty as hell
she knew him well
He was worming
his way out
of the creepy
little molehill
he loved to curl up in
keep mum
play dumb
its time .
No more
Gin and lime
just tonic
In its bleak bitter clarity
prick you back
into precious
piquant reality
Hate it as you do
still sticks like glue
to singed fingertips
still tingling
from that tender touch
even now
just one guilty footfall away.
he could tell
She was squirming
Guilty as hell
she knew him well
He was worming
his way out
of the creepy
little molehill
he loved to curl up in
keep mum
play dumb
its time .
No more
Gin and lime
just tonic
In its bleak bitter clarity
prick you back
into precious
piquant reality
Hate it as you do
still sticks like glue
to singed fingertips
still tingling
from that tender touch
even now
just one guilty footfall away.
Friday, August 4
Escape
He understood. She didn't. She never would. She didn't even try. Every time he tried to hold her hand and tell her
the truth, and nothing but the truth- she smiled and nodded.
Vacant pretense of comprehension, where there was no hope.
Just the surety of habit. That enmeshed itself in the grain of his torn button, his bed linen and bath mirror. Even the damned toothbrush told him to give up.
He had thought about it. Waited. Tried every trick in the book.
He deliberately left the little love notes in his pocket. He knew she did the laundry with gusto. Unrolled the sleeves of his lipstick stained shirt. Discarded the soiled underwear. She missed nothing.
She played on. Living in her cosy cocoon.
the truth, and nothing but the truth- she smiled and nodded.
Vacant pretense of comprehension, where there was no hope.
Just the surety of habit. That enmeshed itself in the grain of his torn button, his bed linen and bath mirror. Even the damned toothbrush told him to give up.
He had thought about it. Waited. Tried every trick in the book.
He deliberately left the little love notes in his pocket. He knew she did the laundry with gusto. Unrolled the sleeves of his lipstick stained shirt. Discarded the soiled underwear. She missed nothing.
She played on. Living in her cosy cocoon.
Willing suspension of disbelief?
She preferred to think it was merely poetic license.
Nothing to do with her carefully constructed reality.
Golf balls strayed into the rough sometimes. They always got them back though. She and he. Like the wine corks they stored when others chucked them routinely into the garbage bag.
Little tricks in the kitchen. Neighbours over for dinner. Freshly laundered handkerchiefs.Two signatures on a mortgage.
It was easy to be there. Everyday. The very same way.
Everyone knew it was the right thing to do.
Christmas dinner at the in-laws'.
Wrapping gifts for nephews. Hospital visits to mum.
He would be home soon. Roast beef dinner. His favourite dessert too- keylime pie. Sharp. Designed to obscure the bitter aftertaste of that expensive Syrah she'd been saving for months.
A few drops would do it. She had done her homework. All those crime novels he thought she never read. He'd been getting weaker for months. He thought it was stress. She just fed him like a fattening sheep for the slaughter.
They would exchange titbits across the table. Like always.
She preferred to think it was merely poetic license.
Nothing to do with her carefully constructed reality.
Golf balls strayed into the rough sometimes. They always got them back though. She and he. Like the wine corks they stored when others chucked them routinely into the garbage bag.
Little tricks in the kitchen. Neighbours over for dinner. Freshly laundered handkerchiefs.Two signatures on a mortgage.
It was easy to be there. Everyday. The very same way.
Everyone knew it was the right thing to do.
Christmas dinner at the in-laws'.
Wrapping gifts for nephews. Hospital visits to mum.
He would be home soon. Roast beef dinner. His favourite dessert too- keylime pie. Sharp. Designed to obscure the bitter aftertaste of that expensive Syrah she'd been saving for months.
A few drops would do it. She had done her homework. All those crime novels he thought she never read. He'd been getting weaker for months. He thought it was stress. She just fed him like a fattening sheep for the slaughter.
They would exchange titbits across the table. Like always.
She could sleepwalk through the part and still get it right.
He liked watching the shadows on the pale cream curtain as he recounted the day's unremarkable events. Her expression wouldn't change.
The comfort of years was like a familiar crick in the neck. She handled it with care, so as never to dislodge it.
Just like he handled the dishes which would smell clean and fresh after, leaving no hint of the shortlived joy of a tasty meal not so long ago. He hated doing the dishes. Washing away a secret life more real than his own. It felt like cheating.
Coming home was too, wasn't it? And yet, it was home.
...........
Coming home was too, wasn't it? And yet, it was home.
...........
He knew it was time. He couldn't take the strain anymore.
It must be today.
He had the papers... and the flowers to soften the blow.
Everything would be hers. The price of precious freedom.
He rang the doorbell.
No one answered. His brow twitched in irritation. She was always prompt. Was she ill? Or had some timely premonition penetrated that steel calm? He fished out his key, walked in and turned on the light.
He was alone.
There was a note by the bottle of wine and the green slice of pie.
He grimaced, sank down on the sofa and sighed noiselessly.
The right mood for some Chopin. The nocturnes.
He could finally drink in peace. And sleep. Long and hard.
Outside, the storm broke, in all its fiery beauty.
The shadows on the curtain faded. The wine drew its last breath.
A lone clink of crystal crashed into oblivion on the quiet floor.
He never saw her again.
And she was still smiling.
Tuesday, August 1
Mon tag (monday? my day ? just a tag...)
Tags in the air, and bits of music float through on a sultry breeze as I try to say what I don't want to say.
I am
I said
to no one there
and no one heard
not even the chair
(Neil Diamond)
I dance
in the moonlight
after a scathing fight
I sing
for my supper when I can't eat
I cry
with the wolves in the waking dawn
I am not always
who I am
I make with my hands
what I can't with my head
I write
like a spider crawling over a page
I confuse
the stars with the earth
.............................................................................
Much said.
That song again , that won't let me go.
Bless the Beatles.
I am thinking about
reading your mind
She's not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do- oh yea!
I said
try me
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
I want to
clobber
The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
I wish
he wasn't
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
I hear
he did the unthinkable
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust
I need
a fix 'cause I'm going down
Down to the bits that I left uptown
I regret
Mother Superior jumped the gun
I wonder
if
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
and finally
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun
-Yes it is.
Happiness is a warm, yes it is...
tag if you will, tag if you wont
you say you do, you say you don't.
And now that I've bared my soul- you know why this blog is called what it is!
I am
I said
to no one there
and no one heard
not even the chair
(Neil Diamond)
I dance
in the moonlight
after a scathing fight
I sing
for my supper when I can't eat
I cry
with the wolves in the waking dawn
I am not always
who I am
I make with my hands
what I can't with my head
I write
like a spider crawling over a page
I confuse
the stars with the earth
.............................................................................
Much said.
That song again , that won't let me go.
Bless the Beatles.
I am thinking about
reading your mind
She's not a girl who misses much
Do do do do do do- oh yea!
I said
try me
She's well acquainted with the touch of the velvet hand
Like a lizard on a window pane
I want to
clobber
The man in the crowd with the multicoloured mirrors
On his hobnail boots
I wish
he wasn't
Lying with his eyes while his hands are busy
Working overtime
I hear
he did the unthinkable
A soap impression of his wife which he ate
And donated to the National Trust
I need
a fix 'cause I'm going down
Down to the bits that I left uptown
I regret
Mother Superior jumped the gun
I wonder
if
Happiness is a warm gun
Happiness is a warm gun, momma
and finally
When I hold you in my arms
And I feel my finger on your trigger
I know nobody can do me no harm
Because happiness is a warm gun
-Yes it is.
Happiness is a warm, yes it is...
tag if you will, tag if you wont
you say you do, you say you don't.
And now that I've bared my soul- you know why this blog is called what it is!
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?
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
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.
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
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
Monday, June 26
Wednesday, June 21
Not in Paris
Let the music play
Let it hover wickedly - just beyond the reach of your gently awakening senses that slowly, oh so slowly start pricking at those little triggers that you inch towards expectantly. Now drawing back, now letting your feet stick and your eyes glaze in an attempt to disown what it's doing to you...
Lips parted ever so slightly, eyebrows creased, cheeks taut, neck outstretched, breathing uneven, and green swollen vein throbbing louder than those drumbeats rolling in closer and closer. The air curls up, holding its breath and lights recoil as those tantalizing guitar strings threaten to slice right through you, just to see your face light up in manic joy.
And your eyes, your eyes -
Scorching the head into focus ,
Focus on everything else that shouldn't be,
Focus on what you can't see
Move faster and the burden gets lighter
It's your spine speaking now
It's your spirit twitching brighter
It's your muscles coiling tighter
You were never a fighter
but look what its done to you
Mute madness
and goosebumps
You don't need a voice to shout or a mouth to laugh anymore.
Your brain's in tune with the trills
And your skin tingling for sin
Smell the fire, taste the wounds
This time you're going to win
And you'll take it head on and gore right through
and that dark red silk handkerchief
will soak your face
sweeter
stains on the dancefloor
Come let me teach you to tango.
Let it hover wickedly - just beyond the reach of your gently awakening senses that slowly, oh so slowly start pricking at those little triggers that you inch towards expectantly. Now drawing back, now letting your feet stick and your eyes glaze in an attempt to disown what it's doing to you...
Lips parted ever so slightly, eyebrows creased, cheeks taut, neck outstretched, breathing uneven, and green swollen vein throbbing louder than those drumbeats rolling in closer and closer. The air curls up, holding its breath and lights recoil as those tantalizing guitar strings threaten to slice right through you, just to see your face light up in manic joy.
And your eyes, your eyes -
Scorching the head into focus ,
Focus on everything else that shouldn't be,
Focus on what you can't see
Move faster and the burden gets lighter
It's your spine speaking now
It's your spirit twitching brighter
It's your muscles coiling tighter
You were never a fighter
but look what its done to you
Mute madness
and goosebumps
You don't need a voice to shout or a mouth to laugh anymore.
Your brain's in tune with the trills
And your skin tingling for sin
Smell the fire, taste the wounds
This time you're going to win
And you'll take it head on and gore right through
and that dark red silk handkerchief
will soak your face
sweeter
stains on the dancefloor
Come let me teach you to tango.
Monday, June 19
Not even headlines
I've seen the future, brother:
It is murder
Things are going to slide,
Slide in all directions
Wont be nothing
Nothing you can measure
Anymore
The blizzard,
The blizzard of the world
Has crossed the threshold
And it has overturned
The order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
Leonard Cohen 'The Future' from the soundtrack of Natural Born Killers
-----------
Are we supposed to write a happy song
When the world goes horribly wrong?
Are we supposed to polish our knives
When they're used to kill our wives?
Are we to eat cookies and cream
As hungry children scream?
Are we to sit back and smile
While innocents are tortured in style
-------
rape the girl you'll never see
kill the child you'll never be
shoot the man who dared to fight
burn the old women tonight
steal their food
maim their brood
tear them inch by inch
just to watch them flinch
-------
laughter in maniac eyes
fed by anguished cries
strong cruel bodies swell in pride
even as they violate the bride
blind the eyes
that will never again
see the morning light
its all dark now
and that makes it all right?
It is murder
Things are going to slide,
Slide in all directions
Wont be nothing
Nothing you can measure
Anymore
The blizzard,
The blizzard of the world
Has crossed the threshold
And it has overturned
The order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
Leonard Cohen 'The Future' from the soundtrack of Natural Born Killers
-----------
Are we supposed to write a happy song
When the world goes horribly wrong?
Are we supposed to polish our knives
When they're used to kill our wives?
Are we to eat cookies and cream
As hungry children scream?
Are we to sit back and smile
While innocents are tortured in style
-------
rape the girl you'll never see
kill the child you'll never be
shoot the man who dared to fight
burn the old women tonight
steal their food
maim their brood
tear them inch by inch
just to watch them flinch
-------
laughter in maniac eyes
fed by anguished cries
strong cruel bodies swell in pride
even as they violate the bride
blind the eyes
that will never again
see the morning light
its all dark now
and that makes it all right?
Friday, June 16
Shot
when your feet won't stand still and your fingers insist
on racing
and your heart beats in tune to the rollercoaster
in your head
eat a keylime pie
or a sausage on rye
tell a stinging lie
swat a filthy fly
and grin
win
enjoy the din
of a drunken caviar soaked night
or a totally tacky pointless fight
and ask yourself if you even remember
a time
when your insides burned
and your fervent mind churned
for something real
and if only you'd known then
it would never be again
do you think
you might have
savoured the run
still chased the sun
held on to the one
put away the gun?
on racing
and your heart beats in tune to the rollercoaster
in your head
eat a keylime pie
or a sausage on rye
tell a stinging lie
swat a filthy fly
and grin
win
enjoy the din
of a drunken caviar soaked night
or a totally tacky pointless fight
and ask yourself if you even remember
a time
when your insides burned
and your fervent mind churned
for something real
and if only you'd known then
it would never be again
do you think
you might have
savoured the run
still chased the sun
held on to the one
put away the gun?
Wednesday, June 14
Write me a miracle
You could
if you thought hard
real hard
and coaxed and cuddled the words into
a cushioned cocoon of cadence
cool creamy comforting
crackling now and then like crisp chocolate
cornucopia captured
cosily
in my chaotic cannister
of casual kitsch
callous caress?
no
cliched kiss perhaps
or
crunching candy?
kicking cadavers down the corridoor
call it crazy?
and if you wrote it all down
you could be me.
if you thought hard
real hard
and coaxed and cuddled the words into
a cushioned cocoon of cadence
cool creamy comforting
crackling now and then like crisp chocolate
cornucopia captured
cosily
in my chaotic cannister
of casual kitsch
callous caress?
no
cliched kiss perhaps
or
crunching candy?
kicking cadavers down the corridoor
call it crazy?
and if you wrote it all down
you could be me.
Monday, June 12
Raindrop
Watch it settle on your window pane like it had always been there
Staring wide eyed at you in transparent pleasure
Watch it tremble just a shade
As it holds on tight with baby fingers
Watch it stick its nose on the cool flat glass - beckoning you
Watch it glow.
Watch it wish away the world outside till it's lost in wet white haze
and then
watch it weep for every blow you drew
watch it laugh at every dream you grew
watch it spit out every thought you knew
watch it
reach you
teach you
beseech you
watch it
watch it watching you.
Wednesday, June 7
3 takes
Rustling
when wilting leaves
weather away
like waning smiles
you sit up
shut down
clear away
the dog eared files.
-----
Bustling
when traffic lights
hit you like speed
and blaring horns
cajole you
construct you
cage you
transport you
------
Hustling
not a penny more
not a dollar less
you surrender
rabid smiles
quick handshake
broken promises
checkmate
when wilting leaves
weather away
like waning smiles
you sit up
shut down
clear away
the dog eared files.
-----
Bustling
when traffic lights
hit you like speed
and blaring horns
cajole you
construct you
cage you
transport you
------
Hustling
not a penny more
not a dollar less
you surrender
rabid smiles
quick handshake
broken promises
checkmate
Friday, June 2
Over and out
Its a night of no memories. No stars. No moon. No gloom.
Not even thought.
My tobacco lies quietly in the corner waiting for the pipe to wake.
A satiated wine hush in the air. The breeze sleeps.
A tiny cricket taps a tender beat to the silence.
The neighbour's tap trickles lazily.
Sky wrapped up in cloudy duvet floats dreamless.
The window wilts, weaves wispy words that melt into a whitewashed wall.
No light. No fight. No shadow anymore.
The pensive pen meanders, stops short and gently shuts the door.
Its time to let them be. Its time to set you free.
.
.
I rest my case.
Not even thought.
My tobacco lies quietly in the corner waiting for the pipe to wake.
A satiated wine hush in the air. The breeze sleeps.
A tiny cricket taps a tender beat to the silence.
The neighbour's tap trickles lazily.
Sky wrapped up in cloudy duvet floats dreamless.
The window wilts, weaves wispy words that melt into a whitewashed wall.
No light. No fight. No shadow anymore.
The pensive pen meanders, stops short and gently shuts the door.
Its time to let them be. Its time to set you free.
.
.
I rest my case.
Wednesday, May 31
and...
when the lights go out, I'll hear your voice,scream silently, "get out".
when the lights come on, you'll sing a song,and know that I was always wrong.
when the sun goes down, I'll shut my eyes and run to find another shore...
when the moon comes up, you'll smile and watch my shadow at your door.
so what can matter, matters not
idle chatter, passing thought
laughing morning, loathsome night
forget the peeping pale moonlight
just a movie, just a book
jaded story, faded look
for sleep is all you'll ever need
dipping dreams in stale seaweed
stars bursting
minds thirsting
and yet...
we're all still living in the same old goldfishbowl.
when the lights come on, you'll sing a song,and know that I was always wrong.
when the sun goes down, I'll shut my eyes and run to find another shore...
when the moon comes up, you'll smile and watch my shadow at your door.
so what can matter, matters not
idle chatter, passing thought
laughing morning, loathsome night
forget the peeping pale moonlight
just a movie, just a book
jaded story, faded look
for sleep is all you'll ever need
dipping dreams in stale seaweed
stars bursting
minds thirsting
and yet...
we're all still living in the same old goldfishbowl.
Tuesday, May 30
666
Haven't quite figured out this 'tag' thing but it seems to be some sort of infectious creepy crawly that provokes a lot of laughs and the occasional scowl (I'm not looking in the mirror, so don't ask)
Quick introduction:
You must post a blog with six weird facts or habits about yourself. These cannot be used against you later on :)
- At the bottom name the six people you will tag next.
- Leave them a comment to let them know they've been tagged and to read your blog
So thanks (and silent curses) to Sanity Starved here's my first tentative attempt.
I.......I live in a starship docked at Atlantis
II.....I paint deathmasks
III...I bathe in campari
IV....I talk to stones
V.....I drink witches brew
VI...I eat people
Cannot do this. too hard. you're all sniggering now. try again. true or false?
1. I read newspapers and magazines backwards
2. I have to crunch at least three green chillies whole with every meal.
3. I can light a cigarette in a typhoon on a beach, or pretty much anywhere
4. I can read shoulders (and toes etc)
5. I can eat anything (snake soup, deer's testicles, pigs heart, blood fry) except onions
6. I can see you and not see you at the same time
I'm really struggling now. Will give up before I bore you to tears!
and if that isn't enough, here's my friendly chinese whisper to 6 of you to perpetuate this for posterity!
Quick introduction:
You must post a blog with six weird facts or habits about yourself. These cannot be used against you later on :)
- At the bottom name the six people you will tag next.
- Leave them a comment to let them know they've been tagged and to read your blog
So thanks (and silent curses) to Sanity Starved here's my first tentative attempt.
I.......I live in a starship docked at Atlantis
II.....I paint deathmasks
III...I bathe in campari
IV....I talk to stones
V.....I drink witches brew
VI...I eat people
Cannot do this. too hard. you're all sniggering now. try again. true or false?
1. I read newspapers and magazines backwards
2. I have to crunch at least three green chillies whole with every meal.
3. I can light a cigarette in a typhoon on a beach, or pretty much anywhere
4. I can read shoulders (and toes etc)
5. I can eat anything (snake soup, deer's testicles, pigs heart, blood fry) except onions
6. I can see you and not see you at the same time
I'm really struggling now. Will give up before I bore you to tears!
and if that isn't enough, here's my friendly chinese whisper to 6 of you to perpetuate this for posterity!
Gypsynan grinning at the thought!
Aria for those wicked lines she slips in when you least expect it
Aradhita who I'm hoping will be smiling
VP who carefully camouflages his goofy grin (don't kill me)
Mermaid who may find it hard to make time for this
PB would be rather nice if you did
and I won't mind if some of you ignore this (note I didn't say ALL!)
Saturday, May 27
True lies
Why laugh when we can cry?
Why hug when we can fight?
Why talk when we can hide?
Isn't it a far more potent state of being, to have your inchoate mind competing with a random heartbeat that threatens to get ahead of you as your fingertips burn in silence?
When the soles of your feet register each miniscule prick of dirt on the floor and your toes cramp in rebellion?
Can you feel your stomach churning deadly acids that lick its womb and worm its way up to your head through pale arteries choking back smoky tears?
Bloodrush is better than a rollercoaster high?
Frozen skin is better than a warm bath that will inevitably lose its ardour?
Flaming dreams are better than numb smiles?
Try and decode the bullets that shoot through your brain and explode in a kaleidoscope of images that make love to each nerve ending.
Fail, and the ghosts will kiss you.
Light obscures the nuances that darkness unfolds.
Joy kills the words that pain creates in effortless beauty.
Package an emotion in ribbons of fact and you have a gift no one will die for.
And the dead will never visit you again.
Who was it that said a pessimist is one who's scared of rain? Ah, Leonard Cohen.
And he claimed he's not one because he's soaked to the skin.
Make sense?
Why hug when we can fight?
Why talk when we can hide?
Isn't it a far more potent state of being, to have your inchoate mind competing with a random heartbeat that threatens to get ahead of you as your fingertips burn in silence?
When the soles of your feet register each miniscule prick of dirt on the floor and your toes cramp in rebellion?
Can you feel your stomach churning deadly acids that lick its womb and worm its way up to your head through pale arteries choking back smoky tears?
Bloodrush is better than a rollercoaster high?
Frozen skin is better than a warm bath that will inevitably lose its ardour?
Flaming dreams are better than numb smiles?
Try and decode the bullets that shoot through your brain and explode in a kaleidoscope of images that make love to each nerve ending.
Fail, and the ghosts will kiss you.
Light obscures the nuances that darkness unfolds.
Joy kills the words that pain creates in effortless beauty.
Package an emotion in ribbons of fact and you have a gift no one will die for.
And the dead will never visit you again.
Who was it that said a pessimist is one who's scared of rain? Ah, Leonard Cohen.
And he claimed he's not one because he's soaked to the skin.
Make sense?
Thursday, May 25
this one's not for you
Act I
my eyelids grow heavy as the wine settles in
gnaws at the insides and rests deep within
where can I find it, where should I look
after all that it did to me, all that it took
cry me a shotglass, cry me all blue
turn me to crystal, far away from you
burn me to cinders, find me a nook
bury me whole, with no second look.
shake me like jelly, shake me awake
yell at me loudly like all is at stake.
drown me in music, soak me in hope
don't let me flee, don't let me mope.
stuff me with foie gras, fill me with fruit
late for the farewells, time for the boot.
i'll lead you a merry dance
i'll woo you a trance
and let you dump me
and rue the missed chance
Act II
the snakes on the prowl
the tiger can growl
yet both watch and wait
elude that bait
till each lies exhausted
toasted and wasted
searching for something
they feared, yet tasted
sharp poisoned arrows
piercing the marrow
anger and darkness
obscuring the sadness
of knowing it wouldn't
fearing it couldn't
be what you wanted
see what you blunted
shackled and shunted
listen till you hear no more.
its another life, another trip
another distant shore
where strangers flit by
never touching the core
and still you would see her
reach gently for you
and still you would know
every touch was true
and yet you would shun it
and give it a shove
push it away
disdain for love.
yes love, like a beacon
like every cliche
you'd never ever utter
and keep well at bay.
crave it like cocaine
yearn all those years
hope for a whisper
to banish your fears.
laugh in your face
your kidding me now
you never knew love
you never knew how
so back to the game
writhing and sore
tear at your insides
and ask for more
yes, ask for more
punch at the door
clutch at the tendrils
you heartlessly tore
piece them together
tell me you will
tell me your craving
to hold me still
for I cannot hear you
I cannot see
I'm all too determined
to rescue me
my eyelids grow heavy as the wine settles in
gnaws at the insides and rests deep within
where can I find it, where should I look
after all that it did to me, all that it took
cry me a shotglass, cry me all blue
turn me to crystal, far away from you
burn me to cinders, find me a nook
bury me whole, with no second look.
shake me like jelly, shake me awake
yell at me loudly like all is at stake.
drown me in music, soak me in hope
don't let me flee, don't let me mope.
stuff me with foie gras, fill me with fruit
late for the farewells, time for the boot.
i'll lead you a merry dance
i'll woo you a trance
and let you dump me
and rue the missed chance
Act II
the snakes on the prowl
the tiger can growl
yet both watch and wait
elude that bait
till each lies exhausted
toasted and wasted
searching for something
they feared, yet tasted
sharp poisoned arrows
piercing the marrow
anger and darkness
obscuring the sadness
of knowing it wouldn't
fearing it couldn't
be what you wanted
see what you blunted
shackled and shunted
listen till you hear no more.
its another life, another trip
another distant shore
where strangers flit by
never touching the core
and still you would see her
reach gently for you
and still you would know
every touch was true
and yet you would shun it
and give it a shove
push it away
disdain for love.
yes love, like a beacon
like every cliche
you'd never ever utter
and keep well at bay.
crave it like cocaine
yearn all those years
hope for a whisper
to banish your fears.
laugh in your face
your kidding me now
you never knew love
you never knew how
so back to the game
writhing and sore
tear at your insides
and ask for more
yes, ask for more
punch at the door
clutch at the tendrils
you heartlessly tore
piece them together
tell me you will
tell me your craving
to hold me still
for I cannot hear you
I cannot see
I'm all too determined
to rescue me
Tuesday, May 23
Mine
It was born the day the door shut in his face.
It grew slowly a little pinkish brown thing. Clinging on for dear life. Feeding on him till it grew puffy and soft. He liked stroking it, feeling its fullness.
He knew though it wouldn't be long before it changed colour and left him. He squeezed it and felt the pain surging sweetly through his fingers and tingling down his spine.
It was starting to develop a mind of its own, a tougher skin, even as he tried nurturing it to stay. It was darker now, rejecting his every advance. He invented new means of preserving it -purely for himself; embedding it squarely in the mind, framing the memory in photographs - a souvenir of a day in his life when he had survived, like he never thought he could have.
It had kept him company, it had stung him into feeling when numb, it had enraged him with its purple ugliness sometimes.
How else would he have had the strength to stub out the flame with a raw thumb and throw his head back and laugh in triumph?
How else could he have dressed it lovingly and worked all those intricate patterns in miniature red, it now showed off proudly in the mirror?
He knew now it was a matter of days. It was all the time he had to hold his head up again and walk the tightrope without falling off. Practice hard. Learn not to miss it. Don't look at it. Don't wake up with its ache in your mind.
It's drying up - that precious little ball of fire that nourished you when you had nothing else. Spoke to you when nothing else could. Steel yourself and watch it go.
That beautiful blister you needed so much.
But hey, even if its fading, its going nowhere, only fading into you.
It grew slowly a little pinkish brown thing. Clinging on for dear life. Feeding on him till it grew puffy and soft. He liked stroking it, feeling its fullness.
He knew though it wouldn't be long before it changed colour and left him. He squeezed it and felt the pain surging sweetly through his fingers and tingling down his spine.
It was starting to develop a mind of its own, a tougher skin, even as he tried nurturing it to stay. It was darker now, rejecting his every advance. He invented new means of preserving it -purely for himself; embedding it squarely in the mind, framing the memory in photographs - a souvenir of a day in his life when he had survived, like he never thought he could have.
It had kept him company, it had stung him into feeling when numb, it had enraged him with its purple ugliness sometimes.
How else would he have had the strength to stub out the flame with a raw thumb and throw his head back and laugh in triumph?
How else could he have dressed it lovingly and worked all those intricate patterns in miniature red, it now showed off proudly in the mirror?
He knew now it was a matter of days. It was all the time he had to hold his head up again and walk the tightrope without falling off. Practice hard. Learn not to miss it. Don't look at it. Don't wake up with its ache in your mind.
It's drying up - that precious little ball of fire that nourished you when you had nothing else. Spoke to you when nothing else could. Steel yourself and watch it go.
That beautiful blister you needed so much.
But hey, even if its fading, its going nowhere, only fading into you.
Monday, May 22
I didn't ask for the weatherman
Today its the rain. Predominating, presupposing tomorrow.
Nothing perceptibly new. Just the mist pulling closer.
Pretending it's that old greying lover who's nervous clammy hands move deliberately towards a futile destination.
Look back in anger? Sit back and smile?
Walk away wistfully, or crawl in slow motion till that white vapour fawns all over and fondly threatens to choke you?
How many molecules, how many permutations of minute matter that you can't see- and yet it plays havoc with your mind. Can we feel atoms?
Is it some physical reaction generating heat in an icy clime, electricity in static mode- oh, and thanks for correcting me, its a chemical reaction, (never fathomed the nuances of that difference)!
Dull declasse derelict daytime. Devoid of dodgy dreams.
Fraught with fractious frames of now fathomable futures.
(fancy me writing facetous lines - feverish frickin folly)
I see me there. Growing old, in the same rocking chair.
I see me here. Catching cobwebs, eating oats, drinking flat beer.
I see me soon, on a gleaming broom, grinning wildly as I fly to the moon.
I see me now, wondering how
it tastes like honey
feels like money
smells like mustard
on maverick mush.
I love the richness, brittle and brash
As the sun crashes through like a familiar rash..
on the tender skin of a pale mist,now pouting,erupting in helpless indignance as it shatters into little invisible particles of poof.
If only it could see me reaching quietly for my sunblock.
And yet, my fingers play with the edges of the jar.
I know, yours are too weak to knock
and you can't see them anymore
just like you can't me.
-----------
blunted
even as the eyes close and the knife grows sharper
Nothing perceptibly new. Just the mist pulling closer.
Pretending it's that old greying lover who's nervous clammy hands move deliberately towards a futile destination.
Look back in anger? Sit back and smile?
Walk away wistfully, or crawl in slow motion till that white vapour fawns all over and fondly threatens to choke you?
How many molecules, how many permutations of minute matter that you can't see- and yet it plays havoc with your mind. Can we feel atoms?
Is it some physical reaction generating heat in an icy clime, electricity in static mode- oh, and thanks for correcting me, its a chemical reaction, (never fathomed the nuances of that difference)!
Dull declasse derelict daytime. Devoid of dodgy dreams.
Fraught with fractious frames of now fathomable futures.
(fancy me writing facetous lines - feverish frickin folly)
I see me there. Growing old, in the same rocking chair.
I see me here. Catching cobwebs, eating oats, drinking flat beer.
I see me soon, on a gleaming broom, grinning wildly as I fly to the moon.
I see me now, wondering how
it tastes like honey
feels like money
smells like mustard
on maverick mush.
I love the richness, brittle and brash
As the sun crashes through like a familiar rash..
on the tender skin of a pale mist,now pouting,erupting in helpless indignance as it shatters into little invisible particles of poof.
If only it could see me reaching quietly for my sunblock.
And yet, my fingers play with the edges of the jar.
I know, yours are too weak to knock
and you can't see them anymore
just like you can't me.
-----------
even as the eyes close and the knife grows sharper
Thursday, May 18
Kitchen tales
I'm coming to get you
Make no mistake
I'm here to sweat you
Like a moist rummy cake
I'll tickle and toast you
I'll pickle and roast you
I'll carve and baste you
Brown
I'll twist and tease you
Pinch and please you
Suck you till you
Drown
Smell you, inhale you
Smoke you, choke you
Lick you softly clean
Taste you, waste you
Chew and cherish you
Take you
Where you've never been.
So pluck off those feathers
Peel off that skin
Drain all the blood
Let the games begin.
Juice up the flesh
Carve out the heart
Mince me your brains
Let me play my part.
The eyes delight
I'm waiting to bite
Shivering slow
Raring to go.
So offer it up
Pretty and pink
Rosy and raw
No scar no kink.
I smell your fear
I'm here to win
So crawl up near
Surrender to sin.
And make no mistake
My dear juicy steak
I'm the best chef ever
Your smiling saviour
and
It's you that I'll bake
It's you that I'll break
It's you I will make
It's you I will take.
And I'm no Shylock
So reminding you
That just a pound of flesh
Will never do.
So,
are you ready for the magic?
Monday, May 15
Umm
Swirls of thick rich cream, with a hint of chocolate now and then.
Scraping the bottom to savour the last vestiges of what could soon be a fond fading memory, even as greedy hunger gnaws for more.
Words form slow and tentative, strung together in serious quest of elusive thought.
Or clear deliberate, like the moon burning a torch for the late night runner on a mission.
Spoken in earnest, now in jest or even in soft childlike wonder as the gutteral wise man awakens the wide eyed questioning infant, purring in pleasure at a brand new touch.
Sounds of lava flowing - deep, quiet anger. The world turns cold with fear till suddenly, magic stirs. Hear the birds chirping on a thawing green as that precious laughter stumbles out in happy abandon from throaty recesses one yearns to fathom.
That wine drenched tone,
The whispered moan
Is it tender plum, cracked blueberry
Or a ripening radiant red red cherry?
Clinking gold coins, rustling leaves
Or cool waves raging on summer eves?
Bronze, bright, bathed in blue
So familiar, ringing true
And right now
as I think of you
Its orange.
Your voice.
Alive, always. I hear it.
Scraping the bottom to savour the last vestiges of what could soon be a fond fading memory, even as greedy hunger gnaws for more.
Words form slow and tentative, strung together in serious quest of elusive thought.
Or clear deliberate, like the moon burning a torch for the late night runner on a mission.
Spoken in earnest, now in jest or even in soft childlike wonder as the gutteral wise man awakens the wide eyed questioning infant, purring in pleasure at a brand new touch.
Sounds of lava flowing - deep, quiet anger. The world turns cold with fear till suddenly, magic stirs. Hear the birds chirping on a thawing green as that precious laughter stumbles out in happy abandon from throaty recesses one yearns to fathom.
That wine drenched tone,
The whispered moan
Is it tender plum, cracked blueberry
Or a ripening radiant red red cherry?
Clinking gold coins, rustling leaves
Or cool waves raging on summer eves?
Bronze, bright, bathed in blue
So familiar, ringing true
And right now
as I think of you
Its orange.
Your voice.
Alive, always. I hear it.
Saturday, May 13
Sandman
...
Till the sandman he comes
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land
Enter sandman- Metallica
--------------------------------------
(composed jointly by Cocaine Jesus and myself)
Sepia colours washed the dun landscape with shades of tan and brown. The sun burnt down with fierce licks that sent dark shadows scurrying into the undergrowth.
Sometimes shadows move as if of their own accord. Little rodents with tendril fingers that snake and sneak as if searching for light and life to breathe into their utter dark souls. Leaches of light that foster dank designs.
He was lying there, almost motionless. Eyes too scorched to look up at the sun. Legs too weak to move, lips too parched to speak. Just one little finger twitched as he tried to write her name in the cruel sand of shifting time which now strangely refused to move. Dry sand oozed from his being, or so he thought. He thought it was him- the sand.
Or was it her?
He thought no more. His brain was drying up like a sirloin grilled too long and he felt like a stale onion on a bed of couscous. The visual metaphor pleased him, and for a second his lip almost curled in amusement and an ironic twinkle appeared behind those ravaged eyes. Only for a second though… as the horror of his predicament dawned slowly upon him.
He felt his body and mind drifting like the muted sounds of sand sliding over stones. A hiss of dried dust that flew outwards and onwards and away from him as though refugees escaping from a vile regime. Running and falling in a desperate flight to escape the evil thing that they are fleeing from. He could see the sand and dust moving from him and slipping out of his combat trousers and forming tiny mounds down by his feet.
Above him the sky grew dark as the ominous wing beat of gathering vultures became apparent. He thought he heard them but it almost seemed like a memory of them, accompanied by the heady stench of fresh blood.
He tried to comprehend how the wind was doing this?
How the sand was appearing to flow from him?
His mind whispered a silent ‘shit’ and he tried to rouse himself but realised with alarm that he was unable to move.
Then suddenly and with a grim, gallows humour he opened his mouth to laugh but no laughter poured out - just sand. Endless amounts of sand. Even the tears of despair from his dead eyes - were just sand.
The dunes lay calm and unflinching. Satiated.
He knew now it was no dream. The desert had reclaimed him.
-----------------
Ain't it foggy outside
All the planes have been grounded
Ain't the fire inside?
Let's all go stand around it
Funny, i've been there
And you've been here
And we ain't had no time to drink that beer
'cause i understand you've been running from the man
That goes by the name of the sandman
He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye
Of a hurricane that's abandoned
The Sandman lyrics- America
Till the sandman he comes
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
Off to never never land
Enter sandman- Metallica
--------------------------------------
(composed jointly by Cocaine Jesus and myself)
Sepia colours washed the dun landscape with shades of tan and brown. The sun burnt down with fierce licks that sent dark shadows scurrying into the undergrowth.
Sometimes shadows move as if of their own accord. Little rodents with tendril fingers that snake and sneak as if searching for light and life to breathe into their utter dark souls. Leaches of light that foster dank designs.
He was lying there, almost motionless. Eyes too scorched to look up at the sun. Legs too weak to move, lips too parched to speak. Just one little finger twitched as he tried to write her name in the cruel sand of shifting time which now strangely refused to move. Dry sand oozed from his being, or so he thought. He thought it was him- the sand.
Or was it her?
He thought no more. His brain was drying up like a sirloin grilled too long and he felt like a stale onion on a bed of couscous. The visual metaphor pleased him, and for a second his lip almost curled in amusement and an ironic twinkle appeared behind those ravaged eyes. Only for a second though… as the horror of his predicament dawned slowly upon him.
He felt his body and mind drifting like the muted sounds of sand sliding over stones. A hiss of dried dust that flew outwards and onwards and away from him as though refugees escaping from a vile regime. Running and falling in a desperate flight to escape the evil thing that they are fleeing from. He could see the sand and dust moving from him and slipping out of his combat trousers and forming tiny mounds down by his feet.
Above him the sky grew dark as the ominous wing beat of gathering vultures became apparent. He thought he heard them but it almost seemed like a memory of them, accompanied by the heady stench of fresh blood.
He tried to comprehend how the wind was doing this?
How the sand was appearing to flow from him?
His mind whispered a silent ‘shit’ and he tried to rouse himself but realised with alarm that he was unable to move.
Then suddenly and with a grim, gallows humour he opened his mouth to laugh but no laughter poured out - just sand. Endless amounts of sand. Even the tears of despair from his dead eyes - were just sand.
The dunes lay calm and unflinching. Satiated.
He knew now it was no dream. The desert had reclaimed him.
-----------------
Ain't it foggy outside
All the planes have been grounded
Ain't the fire inside?
Let's all go stand around it
Funny, i've been there
And you've been here
And we ain't had no time to drink that beer
'cause i understand you've been running from the man
That goes by the name of the sandman
He flies the sky like an eagle in the eye
Of a hurricane that's abandoned
The Sandman lyrics- America
Friday, May 12
chardonnay, everyday
sparkling, tingling
like the sun in your eyes
rising, surprising
a million highs
breathe it in
watch it glow
shut your eyes
feel it flow
a perfect tulip
clean chilled skin
strong slim stem
designed to win
reflecting rainbows
fresh fruity smiles
smelling like thirst
succulent style
sipping a storm
crystal clear
toasting the world
look,
summer's here
Tuesday, May 9
WTF
when the world looks the other way as you hammer on its door
you sit up straight,take note and walk out of the door.
tell yourself its nothing, just some dirt on the floor
tell yourself you'll sweep it off and won't look out for more.
the hours won't keep up- oh darn, you sweat out in the park
they choose to crawl, remind you that its soon going to be dark.
and that is all your waiting for, its all you need to see
that what you've done must come undone, nothing comes for free.
and you can laugh and you can shrug and you can look to me
but you can't cry and you can't hide or go down on your knee.
so whats the good of playing this game if you can't let it be
whats the use of sharing pain if you won't come to me?
there never is another world where you would rather be
there never is a perfect she, no other quite like he.
Or is there?
you sit up straight,take note and walk out of the door.
tell yourself its nothing, just some dirt on the floor
tell yourself you'll sweep it off and won't look out for more.
the hours won't keep up- oh darn, you sweat out in the park
they choose to crawl, remind you that its soon going to be dark.
and that is all your waiting for, its all you need to see
that what you've done must come undone, nothing comes for free.
and you can laugh and you can shrug and you can look to me
but you can't cry and you can't hide or go down on your knee.
so whats the good of playing this game if you can't let it be
whats the use of sharing pain if you won't come to me?
there never is another world where you would rather be
there never is a perfect she, no other quite like he.
Or is there?
Monday, May 8
Anger Management
The called you a loser.
They called you a schmuck
They scoffed at your mother
They screwed up your luck.
The laughed at your car
They smirked at your life
They ignored your children
And ran off with your wife.
So you broke down their windows
Smashed all their stuff
Burnt down their house
And punched them all rough.
You beat up their brother
You yelled yourself hoarse
You stole all their money
To settle old scores.
Then you clawed on your walls
And kicked down your door
Till you couldn't find a thing
You could break anymore.
And its time to be happy
And wholly content
To think of those lives
That you furiously bent.
Yet you still can't breathe
Your still feeling sore
There's no one to pummel
When you so want more.
So find you a drink
Find you a whore
Find you a fix
So it irks no more.
Now jump in the river
Sink in the sea
Choke on the past
That won't let you be.
I'll write you an epitaph
I'll sing you a song
And pray that your soul
Burns slow and long.
Just as you always wanted.
They called you a schmuck
They scoffed at your mother
They screwed up your luck.
The laughed at your car
They smirked at your life
They ignored your children
And ran off with your wife.
So you broke down their windows
Smashed all their stuff
Burnt down their house
And punched them all rough.
You beat up their brother
You yelled yourself hoarse
You stole all their money
To settle old scores.
Then you clawed on your walls
And kicked down your door
Till you couldn't find a thing
You could break anymore.
And its time to be happy
And wholly content
To think of those lives
That you furiously bent.
Yet you still can't breathe
Your still feeling sore
There's no one to pummel
When you so want more.
So find you a drink
Find you a whore
Find you a fix
So it irks no more.
Now jump in the river
Sink in the sea
Choke on the past
That won't let you be.
I'll write you an epitaph
I'll sing you a song
And pray that your soul
Burns slow and long.
Just as you always wanted.
Sunday, May 7
Anywhere but home
thirsty
feisty
sensual
blue sky
bone dry
brittle
stone cold
old
burning
parched
scorched
pristine
gnarled
unfurled
tranquil
taut
trembling
desert queen
Come take me.
feisty
sensual
blue sky
bone dry
brittle
stone cold
old
burning
parched
scorched
pristine
gnarled
unfurled
tranquil
taut
trembling
desert queen
Come take me.
Friday, May 5
Blow me up
Nobody asked where she was going
Nobody asked her to stay
Nobody carried her suitcase
Nobody showed her the way.
She looked back just one time
She knew no one was there
She looked on straight ahead
She didn't need them to care.
-----
" Something inside of me
Has opened up its eyes
Why did you put it there?
Did you not realize
Something inside of me
It screams the loudest sound
Sometimes I think I could
I'm gonna burn this whole world down.."
Burn (from the soundtrack of Natural Born Killers)
-----
Loaded cylinders
Fragmentation jacket
Acetone peroxide
Red trigger in pocket.
A belt too heavy
For her fragile frame
Mind working calmly
On this deadly game.
She'd practised the part
With passionate joy
She was programmed to win
For a cause, not a ploy.
It mattered not who
Was going to die
Kids, friends ,neighbours
It only mattered why.
She brushed her long hair
For the very last time
She smelt the bacon
And the basil and thyme.
She touched the new leaves
She was walking on air
Triumph in her heart
Truth or dare?
It was time now though
The mission had begun
Her fingers hit base
The world slowly spun
Brighter than the sun
Louder than a gun
The deed was done.
Yes, her race was run...
and no one would know
how
for a second
just one second
She'd wished she was home.
Nobody asked her to stay
Nobody carried her suitcase
Nobody showed her the way.
She looked back just one time
She knew no one was there
She looked on straight ahead
She didn't need them to care.
-----
" Something inside of me
Has opened up its eyes
Why did you put it there?
Did you not realize
Something inside of me
It screams the loudest sound
Sometimes I think I could
I'm gonna burn this whole world down.."
Burn (from the soundtrack of Natural Born Killers)
-----
Loaded cylinders
Fragmentation jacket
Acetone peroxide
Red trigger in pocket.
A belt too heavy
For her fragile frame
Mind working calmly
On this deadly game.
She'd practised the part
With passionate joy
She was programmed to win
For a cause, not a ploy.
It mattered not who
Was going to die
Kids, friends ,neighbours
It only mattered why.
She brushed her long hair
For the very last time
She smelt the bacon
And the basil and thyme.
She touched the new leaves
She was walking on air
Triumph in her heart
Truth or dare?
It was time now though
The mission had begun
Her fingers hit base
The world slowly spun
Brighter than the sun
Louder than a gun
The deed was done.
Yes, her race was run...
and no one would know
how
for a second
just one second
She'd wished she was home.
Wednesday, May 3
Waiting
I've been sitting idle for hours. For hours!
Where are you? Downing a few beers with your best mates?
Or chatting up that doe eyed colleague
Whom you wouldn't let anywhere near me,
When she knocked on your door
tentatively the other day?
Here I am- slick new image, fitter, faster,
Brand new colours, every detail as you desired.
You even chose these devastatingly obscure blue shades,
Possessively, so that only you can look deep into my eyes.
So why the hide and seek now?
Last night was terrific. So involved.
Just when I thought you'd stop, you kept going
Till I lost myself in your labyrinthine manoeuvres.
Didn't let you down, now did I ?
To rise with you in the dawn,
Watch you sipping that strong bitter brew
You love so much,
Feel your fingers stroking me to rest.
Stop daydreaming!
Why on earth have you suddenly disappeared
When you've poured your heart out to me,
Told me stories as I curl up on your lap
and gaze straight back.
You wouldn't take your eyes off me for days on end!
Tap my secrets out of me delicately...
Plumb my depths for more surprises;
All the music and movies we shared,
and even those business secrets!
Who knows you better than I do?
Every password, every secret email,
How we laughed over every secret admirer
you got it so wrong with, and
the frenzied date juggling in your diary.
But then again,I was never family,was I?
Although in some way perhaps
I was a home for you.
Your retreat from the rest of the raving world.
And of course I'm still here. And so are you.
Wish I was a real woman. Not just a mute laptop.
And are you coming back for that candlelit dinner?
Where are you? Downing a few beers with your best mates?
Or chatting up that doe eyed colleague
Whom you wouldn't let anywhere near me,
When she knocked on your door
tentatively the other day?
Here I am- slick new image, fitter, faster,
Brand new colours, every detail as you desired.
You even chose these devastatingly obscure blue shades,
Possessively, so that only you can look deep into my eyes.
So why the hide and seek now?
Last night was terrific. So involved.
Just when I thought you'd stop, you kept going
Till I lost myself in your labyrinthine manoeuvres.
Didn't let you down, now did I ?
To rise with you in the dawn,
Watch you sipping that strong bitter brew
You love so much,
Feel your fingers stroking me to rest.
Stop daydreaming!
Why on earth have you suddenly disappeared
When you've poured your heart out to me,
Told me stories as I curl up on your lap
and gaze straight back.
You wouldn't take your eyes off me for days on end!
Tap my secrets out of me delicately...
Plumb my depths for more surprises;
All the music and movies we shared,
and even those business secrets!
Who knows you better than I do?
Every password, every secret email,
How we laughed over every secret admirer
you got it so wrong with, and
the frenzied date juggling in your diary.
But then again,I was never family,was I?
Although in some way perhaps
I was a home for you.
Your retreat from the rest of the raving world.
And of course I'm still here. And so are you.
Wish I was a real woman. Not just a mute laptop.
And are you coming back for that candlelit dinner?
Monday, May 1
when?
Nothing new, nothing here
Nothing sparkles, nothing near.
The rain
It washes out the softness
Leaves me dry and flaky
The sun
It steals away the madness
Leaves me numb yet shaky.
The curling dawn shuts every door
the dusk will never open,
And the days have left me far behind
to fade out in this den.
And things could change
Yes, things may change
and things will change....but when?
Saturday, April 29
Beauty
"Beauty is fear...we quiver before it"
Take it in your hands and look at it. Deep into it. What do you see?
Something you love or something you wouldn't dare to love?
Something you hate or something you would like to hate?
Something you remember that could never be yours?
Something you destroyed but which never went away?
Something you cherish yet hold in contempt?
Something you need and yet fear to lose most?
Something you want but cannot see?
Something you see but cannot touch?
None of the above.
The light in a child's eyes.
The first snow that embraces a tired world.
The first rose petal you stroked, the first wet grass you smelt.
Sunrise on a dreaming sea, sunset painted across the sky.
The dogeared diary you hide, a stranger's smile,
the first person who inspired poetry in you....
None of the above?
The gnarled piece of driftwood afloat on a rushing rapid,
the dark shapes of the wizened walls of a lost cave,
the red red eyes of the devil you see in your dreams,
the stinging pain of that first love bite,
the howling hyena that gave you goosebumps,
the faceless shadows that whisper to you,
the hungry flames that lick the forest,
the long curling crack in a smooth white wall,
the smoky shapes floating off that killer fag,
a heroin high, the horror of an insane black night,
climbing to the top of your favourite mountain-looking down
knowing who you are, who you can be..
All of the above?
You choose.
Take it in your hands and look at it. Deep into it. What do you see?
Something you love or something you wouldn't dare to love?
Something you hate or something you would like to hate?
Something you remember that could never be yours?
Something you destroyed but which never went away?
Something you cherish yet hold in contempt?
Something you need and yet fear to lose most?
Something you want but cannot see?
Something you see but cannot touch?
None of the above.
The light in a child's eyes.
The first snow that embraces a tired world.
The first rose petal you stroked, the first wet grass you smelt.
Sunrise on a dreaming sea, sunset painted across the sky.
The dogeared diary you hide, a stranger's smile,
the first person who inspired poetry in you....
None of the above?
The gnarled piece of driftwood afloat on a rushing rapid,
the dark shapes of the wizened walls of a lost cave,
the red red eyes of the devil you see in your dreams,
the stinging pain of that first love bite,
the howling hyena that gave you goosebumps,
the faceless shadows that whisper to you,
the hungry flames that lick the forest,
the long curling crack in a smooth white wall,
the smoky shapes floating off that killer fag,
a heroin high, the horror of an insane black night,
climbing to the top of your favourite mountain-looking down
knowing who you are, who you can be..
All of the above?
You choose.
Thursday, April 27
Cracklin rose
Tall tough woman
In slender white
Dark lined eyes
With a twinkling bite!
Now a lady, now a child
Now a tramp, deliciously wild...
Painting pictures
Sharp and bright,
Yet soft and warm
All shade and light.
Cooks like an artist
Chirps like a bird
Loves like the ocean
The sky has stirred.
Cries like a baby
Laughs like the stars
Leads her own life
No holds barred.
Smokes like an angel
Dreams like a child
Fears with a passion
Dances like wild.
Books on her bedspread
Music galore
Candles and colour
Magic in store!
Tough as a tiger
Wading through storms
Cherishing yet
A heart that warms.
Here's the birthday toast
With some great lamb roast
For a friend in a billion
(and do make a million)
Live it your way
Have a stupendous day
Keep rockin and rollin and smilin away!
(for one of the strongest, most beautiful people I know)
In slender white
Dark lined eyes
With a twinkling bite!
Now a lady, now a child
Now a tramp, deliciously wild...
Painting pictures
Sharp and bright,
Yet soft and warm
All shade and light.
Cooks like an artist
Chirps like a bird
Loves like the ocean
The sky has stirred.
Cries like a baby
Laughs like the stars
Leads her own life
No holds barred.
Smokes like an angel
Dreams like a child
Fears with a passion
Dances like wild.
Books on her bedspread
Music galore
Candles and colour
Magic in store!
Tough as a tiger
Wading through storms
Cherishing yet
A heart that warms.
Here's the birthday toast
With some great lamb roast
For a friend in a billion
(and do make a million)
Live it your way
Have a stupendous day
Keep rockin and rollin and smilin away!
(for one of the strongest, most beautiful people I know)
Wednesday, April 26
Spring, or something like it
So it's that time of year and everyone's writing about it.
My own attempt to do so is usually dogged by pointless petulance, detachment, ennui or simply a half amused scepticism.(Now beat me up all you spring sunshine suckers!)
There are no daffodils or tulips here nodding cheerfully, changing colour, welcoming a summer to look forward to.Its largely grey, warm and humid with a sinuous mist forming layers above the green - making it harder to live and breathe the fabled freshness of the season.
The darkness tonight is being washed away by a steel cold rain. A dominant all-consuming lightning in its fiery beauty, is threatening to engulf an ordinary night; expose every piece of material mundaneness it tries so cleverly to hide. The world shakes like a small ugly being- too insignificant to matter, peeping from behind a fraying curtain of casual complacence. The thunder is howling in laughter at the precocious child staring back defiantly, its body taut with fear.
The hours go by.
Nothing remains the same...
As the rain sweeps down determinedly, the lights in the distance start to swim slowly through the newness. And I could see them, really see them - in their wet tentative guise like the beautiful strangers that reflect off the now unfathomably ecstatic, copiously weeping windows.
Its morning now, and is this then perhaps... spring?
My own attempt to do so is usually dogged by pointless petulance, detachment, ennui or simply a half amused scepticism.(Now beat me up all you spring sunshine suckers!)
There are no daffodils or tulips here nodding cheerfully, changing colour, welcoming a summer to look forward to.Its largely grey, warm and humid with a sinuous mist forming layers above the green - making it harder to live and breathe the fabled freshness of the season.
The darkness tonight is being washed away by a steel cold rain. A dominant all-consuming lightning in its fiery beauty, is threatening to engulf an ordinary night; expose every piece of material mundaneness it tries so cleverly to hide. The world shakes like a small ugly being- too insignificant to matter, peeping from behind a fraying curtain of casual complacence. The thunder is howling in laughter at the precocious child staring back defiantly, its body taut with fear.
The hours go by.
Nothing remains the same...
As the rain sweeps down determinedly, the lights in the distance start to swim slowly through the newness. And I could see them, really see them - in their wet tentative guise like the beautiful strangers that reflect off the now unfathomably ecstatic, copiously weeping windows.
Its morning now, and is this then perhaps... spring?
Tuesday, April 25
Looking
Looking In
It winked and curled up.
Mischief on the mind.
It squealed and rolled up
If you dared to be kind.
It laughed and whirled round
Teetering on tiptoe
It hugged the warm ground
And teased you real slow.
Spat fire and got high
Stepped near and let fly
Feasted on fresh lies
As you gazed, you gazed
Into expressionless eyes..
Looking out
It crept out, slowly, surely
Still a hint of fear
It leapt at you now squarely
And pulled you gently near.
You're its tall strong tree
You're its need to be free
You're its bird in the sky
You're its reason to fly.
It tumbles in your arms
It ferrets out your charms
Your the window in its heart
As it looks and looks
Still looking
Into the wet wet world in your eyes.
It winked and curled up.
Mischief on the mind.
It squealed and rolled up
If you dared to be kind.
It laughed and whirled round
Teetering on tiptoe
It hugged the warm ground
And teased you real slow.
Spat fire and got high
Stepped near and let fly
Feasted on fresh lies
As you gazed, you gazed
Into expressionless eyes..
Looking out
It crept out, slowly, surely
Still a hint of fear
It leapt at you now squarely
And pulled you gently near.
You're its tall strong tree
You're its need to be free
You're its bird in the sky
You're its reason to fly.
It tumbles in your arms
It ferrets out your charms
Your the window in its heart
As it looks and looks
Still looking
Into the wet wet world in your eyes.
Sunday, April 23
Song sung blue
Wrecked again
by a song
Only a song.
That means little to you
and even less to me
And were it not for that
strange bundle of images
That come swimming in
And that line
Which even now
makes me skip a heartbeat
I could trash it
as just another clever cliche
Designed to make us cry
crocodile tears
For no one
Still playing
somewhere in the recesses
of my shattered psyche
Waiting to be scooped out
With the serrated edge of
a bread knife
Blunted with telltale softness
of everyday breakfast
And if I served my gut up
For tea
Would you buy it?
Would you have your fill
And leave the hard edges behind
on that brave silver platter
Which you worked so hard to shine?
And even though the song remains the same
yet again
Can you drown it
in a cold new rain
That can then beat down forever
forever
forever
forever
forever
or never?
by a song
Only a song.
That means little to you
and even less to me
And were it not for that
strange bundle of images
That come swimming in
And that line
Which even now
makes me skip a heartbeat
I could trash it
as just another clever cliche
Designed to make us cry
crocodile tears
For no one
Still playing
somewhere in the recesses
of my shattered psyche
Waiting to be scooped out
With the serrated edge of
a bread knife
Blunted with telltale softness
of everyday breakfast
And if I served my gut up
For tea
Would you buy it?
Would you have your fill
And leave the hard edges behind
on that brave silver platter
Which you worked so hard to shine?
And even though the song remains the same
yet again
Can you drown it
in a cold new rain
That can then beat down forever
forever
forever
forever
forever
or never?
Friday, April 21
Laughing eyes
Saw him strolling down the street
New orange shoes on crooked feet
Strong steady gait
No frills, no fuss
Glance at his watch
As he runs for the bus.
Saw him at the park
Writing songs in the dark
Training for a run
Waiting for the sun.
Saw him at the coffee shop
Bright eyes looking out
Watching a crazy world
Bustle about.
Saw him at work
By a solitary light
Careful and quick
Every detail just right.
Saw him in the kitchen too
Cooking up a storm
Saw him with his duvet
Snuggling up warm.
Saw him in the morn
Clicking pictures of the dawn
A lean lone star
With an invisible scar.
Saw him in my mind's eye
Toothbrush in hand
Juggling friends and strangers
In a faraway land.
Now see him at the store
Pausing at the door
Turning back to catch my eye
Or perhaps a hint of more?
Laughing eyes
Yes, laughing eyes
That held in them
The blue blue skies
Yes, laughing eyes
Those laughing eyes
Should never never know goodbyes.
Note: will do a series on friends going forward...this one is for a friend who sets the kitchen on fire!
New orange shoes on crooked feet
Strong steady gait
No frills, no fuss
Glance at his watch
As he runs for the bus.
Saw him at the park
Writing songs in the dark
Training for a run
Waiting for the sun.
Saw him at the coffee shop
Bright eyes looking out
Watching a crazy world
Bustle about.
Saw him at work
By a solitary light
Careful and quick
Every detail just right.
Saw him in the kitchen too
Cooking up a storm
Saw him with his duvet
Snuggling up warm.
Saw him in the morn
Clicking pictures of the dawn
A lean lone star
With an invisible scar.
Saw him in my mind's eye
Toothbrush in hand
Juggling friends and strangers
In a faraway land.
Now see him at the store
Pausing at the door
Turning back to catch my eye
Or perhaps a hint of more?
Laughing eyes
Yes, laughing eyes
That held in them
The blue blue skies
Yes, laughing eyes
Those laughing eyes
Should never never know goodbyes.
Note: will do a series on friends going forward...this one is for a friend who sets the kitchen on fire!
Wednesday, April 19
Stub it out - there
Yes, it was an ordinary day. An unusually productive morning too.
The sun streamed in happily, weaving a natty print on the room's moist skin, illuminating all that had been hidden so long. The fresh morning air skipped cheerfully around the corners and took her by the hand. Oh how she loved a playmate!
She kept him close... that skipping young devil as the morning took off for its well deserved siesta. Afternoon rolled in softly, smiling as it lulled her into a familiar dream. Still playing, but a little tired now, she blinked away those dark spots dancing a distracting jig to that piece of music she found increasingly discordant. The day got slower and the walls looked whiter as the light changed outside. Something was trying to creep in through a crack on the window pane. She barely noticed it. Grey haze. A dog howling in a silent street. Hushed voices speaking wordlessly. All too familiar.
The game was getting tougher. It demanded more energy than the cheese and crackers nibbled hours ago, would allow. The skipping was getting mesmeric and the swish of the rope started sending shivers down her spine. It moved furiously now and she knew if she moved an inch closer it would whip off a patch of her. Like a smarting tequila shot.
Tempted now, she leaned forward, through the open window.
She barely had time to notice the storm which was breaking. She had known it would come just like she knew it would leave, when it had worn itself out. The chill grabbed her first as she ran for cover. Fire, she needed fire. Any warmth would do.
Perhaps her playmate would understand. Help her find some. Perhaps skipping was the wrong game. Should she try something new?
The storm broke in spectacular rage. She gazed into its bloodshot eyes and found to her surprise that they didn't scare her. Thin sharp streaks of red sparked around the room. She was cold no more.
The game is afoot, the players are here, the music chimes a welcome flourish. The walls were dancing , the floorboards clapping, the pictures screaming in excitement as they surrendered to the frenzy of a furious night. The rain was yet to come, and play was still on- only no smiles now. The darkness brooded in its stony silence and froze the rope.
The hours gone by blurred into each other as she fumbled for a light trying not to trip over that inert rope which kept flashing through her mind still. She couldn't see ahead, not even a yard. She lay back exhausted calling to the playmate, wishing she could hear that swishing rope again.
And as a grudging moon pulled its feet off the armchair and nodded down at her, all she could see in that soft slurred light was a deep dark patch of painful ash on baby skin. Scarred, scorched,beautiful baby skin that glared back in muted fear.
A delicately etched prophecy too startling for tears.
And now,
The skipping had stopped for good.
The sun streamed in happily, weaving a natty print on the room's moist skin, illuminating all that had been hidden so long. The fresh morning air skipped cheerfully around the corners and took her by the hand. Oh how she loved a playmate!
She kept him close... that skipping young devil as the morning took off for its well deserved siesta. Afternoon rolled in softly, smiling as it lulled her into a familiar dream. Still playing, but a little tired now, she blinked away those dark spots dancing a distracting jig to that piece of music she found increasingly discordant. The day got slower and the walls looked whiter as the light changed outside. Something was trying to creep in through a crack on the window pane. She barely noticed it. Grey haze. A dog howling in a silent street. Hushed voices speaking wordlessly. All too familiar.
The game was getting tougher. It demanded more energy than the cheese and crackers nibbled hours ago, would allow. The skipping was getting mesmeric and the swish of the rope started sending shivers down her spine. It moved furiously now and she knew if she moved an inch closer it would whip off a patch of her. Like a smarting tequila shot.
Tempted now, she leaned forward, through the open window.
She barely had time to notice the storm which was breaking. She had known it would come just like she knew it would leave, when it had worn itself out. The chill grabbed her first as she ran for cover. Fire, she needed fire. Any warmth would do.
Perhaps her playmate would understand. Help her find some. Perhaps skipping was the wrong game. Should she try something new?
The storm broke in spectacular rage. She gazed into its bloodshot eyes and found to her surprise that they didn't scare her. Thin sharp streaks of red sparked around the room. She was cold no more.
The game is afoot, the players are here, the music chimes a welcome flourish. The walls were dancing , the floorboards clapping, the pictures screaming in excitement as they surrendered to the frenzy of a furious night. The rain was yet to come, and play was still on- only no smiles now. The darkness brooded in its stony silence and froze the rope.
The hours gone by blurred into each other as she fumbled for a light trying not to trip over that inert rope which kept flashing through her mind still. She couldn't see ahead, not even a yard. She lay back exhausted calling to the playmate, wishing she could hear that swishing rope again.
And as a grudging moon pulled its feet off the armchair and nodded down at her, all she could see in that soft slurred light was a deep dark patch of painful ash on baby skin. Scarred, scorched,beautiful baby skin that glared back in muted fear.
A delicately etched prophecy too startling for tears.
And now,
The skipping had stopped for good.
Monday, April 17
Loser takes all
Drop the blinds.Seal the shutters.
Bolt the door.
Don't let them in. Don't melt.
No matter what.
Even if they scream for help,
Cry wildly only for you.
Close your eyes, shut your ears, smile fiercely
and think of tulips.
In a long green field that rolls ahead
To exactly where you want it to be.
.....................................
Pick up your file
Make your notes
Put the baby to sleep
Finish your tea.
Now brush your teeth
Turn off the lights
And sink into
A deep dreamless sleep.
......................................
Hey, smile
They're still knocking
Just like you wanted them to.
And isn't it a fantastic feeling to have won the fight without even trying?
I bow before thy strength, my lord, my master
And shall fetch you coffee hereafter.
Bolt the door.
Don't let them in. Don't melt.
No matter what.
Even if they scream for help,
Cry wildly only for you.
Close your eyes, shut your ears, smile fiercely
and think of tulips.
In a long green field that rolls ahead
To exactly where you want it to be.
.....................................
Pick up your file
Make your notes
Put the baby to sleep
Finish your tea.
Now brush your teeth
Turn off the lights
And sink into
A deep dreamless sleep.
......................................
Hey, smile
They're still knocking
Just like you wanted them to.
And isn't it a fantastic feeling to have won the fight without even trying?
I bow before thy strength, my lord, my master
And shall fetch you coffee hereafter.
Saturday, April 15
Salvation?
I've found it.
The perfect spot to down my cup of solitude in secluded bliss.
The perfect time to feel like a prince.
The perfect moment to smile at my shadow and call it mine.
After all the searching, all the angst, all the confusion... here it is.
my slice of sky
my chance to fly
my own box of treasure
to cherish at leisure
The perfect dream to chase
The precious laughter on that face
The perfect piece of sunshine
Right here with its arms open wide.
The perfect place to hide.
Wake up.
Your dreaming.
The world is exactly where it was -
So are you.
And the colour is imperceptible.
The perfect spot to down my cup of solitude in secluded bliss.
The perfect time to feel like a prince.
The perfect moment to smile at my shadow and call it mine.
After all the searching, all the angst, all the confusion... here it is.
my slice of sky
my chance to fly
my own box of treasure
to cherish at leisure
The perfect dream to chase
The precious laughter on that face
The perfect piece of sunshine
Right here with its arms open wide.
The perfect place to hide.
Wake up.
Your dreaming.
The world is exactly where it was -
So are you.
And the colour is imperceptible.
Take it or leave
I love it when you fight me
I love it when you bite
I love it when you hate me
And it happens every night.
I hate it when you touch me
I hate it when you cry
I hate it when you tell me
You will never ever lie.
Will love it if you burn me
Will hate it if you don't
Will love it if you throw me out
So please don't say you won't.
So I'm waiting here
For one good kick
Love it, hate it
Take your pick!
I love it when you bite
I love it when you hate me
And it happens every night.
I hate it when you touch me
I hate it when you cry
I hate it when you tell me
You will never ever lie.
Will love it if you burn me
Will hate it if you don't
Will love it if you throw me out
So please don't say you won't.
So I'm waiting here
For one good kick
Love it, hate it
Take your pick!
Thursday, April 13
Years from now
Because you are no one
And you are here
Like a waking dream
Alive in my head
Because that soft smile
reflecting your eyes
Is gentle as the night time
cushioning the stars
Reaching for
and calming the fever
That I fear would drive you away
And what can I do for you
that you might know
I would not ask of you
that which I need the most
And that you
do not have to save me
As your heart gently
pushes me away
with a watchful eye
Lest I fall
And it is just another
moment to cherish
and cry for
and never seek again
Can it stay this way
or will it fade
And when we meet again
like friends or strangers
We can hold hands
and know
that we were holding hands
for all these years
(for my friend with soft hands)
And you are here
Like a waking dream
Alive in my head
Because that soft smile
reflecting your eyes
Is gentle as the night time
cushioning the stars
Reaching for
and calming the fever
That I fear would drive you away
And what can I do for you
that you might know
I would not ask of you
that which I need the most
And that you
do not have to save me
As your heart gently
pushes me away
with a watchful eye
Lest I fall
And it is just another
moment to cherish
and cry for
and never seek again
Can it stay this way
or will it fade
And when we meet again
like friends or strangers
We can hold hands
and know
that we were holding hands
for all these years
(for my friend with soft hands)
A few words
A few words
Strung together
To make it all real
Spoken as only he could
A voice like
the seas calling to you
drifting over the edge of waves
And that feeling
that she knows
I need not explain
Relief and pain
one and the same
Surging through me
And the stars smile
They know I'm coming back
And it will never be
the same again.
Strung together
To make it all real
Spoken as only he could
A voice like
the seas calling to you
drifting over the edge of waves
And that feeling
that she knows
I need not explain
Relief and pain
one and the same
Surging through me
And the stars smile
They know I'm coming back
And it will never be
the same again.
For you
Just a touch of me
In your eyes
Your hair
In the air
around you
Blood rushing through your veins
Looking out over the lighthouses
That seem more real
Just as she sits
there beside you
On a slope of grass
Drinking in the sea and night air
That chills her for fear of losing you
And you know that this is you
And all you say
And all you hear
Is a shadow
Of just that touch of you
In her hair
Her face
And her eyes...
In your eyes
Your hair
In the air
around you
Blood rushing through your veins
Looking out over the lighthouses
That seem more real
Just as she sits
there beside you
On a slope of grass
Drinking in the sea and night air
That chills her for fear of losing you
And you know that this is you
And all you say
And all you hear
Is a shadow
Of just that touch of you
In her hair
Her face
And her eyes...
Wednesday, April 12
24 more...
And the storm came riding down on high,
In its sequinned plume of thunder.
A mighty lightening froze the sky,
As it spewed venom down under.
Nobody knew just what to think,
They had no time to wonder
They just watched it hit and howl
And tear the world asunder.
I was going to write prose. Don't know what happened, but here goes...
Its dusk here. That state of limbo we all love to write about.
I'm sitting in the shadows as the darkness hovers just beyond the grey,ignoring the lights on the other side of the harbour which seem so far away.
I would whisper to you now on the side of a hill, under a dark green tree on a night with no moon, as time stands still.
And no matter how hard I try, I still cannot hear you, or even hear myself, although the wind is deathly silent tonight.
The best I can do, is listen to them.
As they murmur that its time to leave.
Time to listen to the gods who sit on judgement up above.
Time to say hello to that stranger you're afraid of.
Time to grasp the beauty of the storm in your open arms and realise with a start, that its going to be a beautiful night.
And the best is yet to come.
In its sequinned plume of thunder.
A mighty lightening froze the sky,
As it spewed venom down under.
Nobody knew just what to think,
They had no time to wonder
They just watched it hit and howl
And tear the world asunder.
I was going to write prose. Don't know what happened, but here goes...
Its dusk here. That state of limbo we all love to write about.
I'm sitting in the shadows as the darkness hovers just beyond the grey,ignoring the lights on the other side of the harbour which seem so far away.
I would whisper to you now on the side of a hill, under a dark green tree on a night with no moon, as time stands still.
And no matter how hard I try, I still cannot hear you, or even hear myself, although the wind is deathly silent tonight.
The best I can do, is listen to them.
As they murmur that its time to leave.
Time to listen to the gods who sit on judgement up above.
Time to say hello to that stranger you're afraid of.
Time to grasp the beauty of the storm in your open arms and realise with a start, that its going to be a beautiful night.
And the best is yet to come.
Monday, April 10
The next 24..
Its the kind of day when you know things will go right.
You feel it in your bones.
You do everything right.
Tea brewed at just the right temperature. Brownies baked to perfection.
Deadlines met, and emails sent, with enough time leftover to browse the newspaper, and catch the new season of CSI Miami on telly.
No unforeseen phone calls to disrupt a long bubble bath with a glass of wine. Even the fog outside took a break and let the lights on the harbour shine through when I stepped out on the balcony for a relaxed smoke.
Its the kind of night when you know things will go wrong.
You don't feel, you just know. What triggers it of course, you don't.
Random thoughts play in your head and you're glad you can still think!
Is that silence buzzing in my ears or some platelets running late for work?
How many seconds before fingers grow too cold to type and how many minutes before the couch groans in protest at its shivering weight? Why were the chocolates sour? Were they grapes in disguise or simply my bruised tongue?
See the walls stand white and still and how pretty those shadows look- all edge, no colour. Devouring dragons melting before myopic eyes and a fractured mind. Always loved animal-shaped shadows formed with clever fingers.
Dragons don't scare me. Other things do.
Too much coffee or too little?
Did someone poison my wine just a tad, or are the demons here for a party again? Burn some incense- perhaps they'll go away.
Light a candle and watch the blue core of a flickering flame.
Steady now, thats your whole life... so focus and let the rest melt away.
Wish I was a dewdrop- fresh, sparkling, wet with life, reflecting every colour around, resting on a bed of green. Waiting to be swept off its feet by a warm lusting sun.
I never read a book twice over, so why the deja vu tonight?
Am I reliving this same life? Or those from another world, another time, when they still had wars and ghosts and darkness, and words hurt more than swords? And today as I sit before this square of light, I'm wondering, would clicking a trigger hurt less than that click which tells you 'inbox 0'?
Should I wait for the birds to start chirping and the black sky to turn midnight blue? Will it be another perfect day?
If so, perhaps its worth waiting for.
And in the meanwhile, time for some black magic.
The real stuff.
As the naked night closes in on me.
You feel it in your bones.
You do everything right.
Tea brewed at just the right temperature. Brownies baked to perfection.
Deadlines met, and emails sent, with enough time leftover to browse the newspaper, and catch the new season of CSI Miami on telly.
No unforeseen phone calls to disrupt a long bubble bath with a glass of wine. Even the fog outside took a break and let the lights on the harbour shine through when I stepped out on the balcony for a relaxed smoke.
Its the kind of night when you know things will go wrong.
You don't feel, you just know. What triggers it of course, you don't.
Random thoughts play in your head and you're glad you can still think!
Is that silence buzzing in my ears or some platelets running late for work?
How many seconds before fingers grow too cold to type and how many minutes before the couch groans in protest at its shivering weight? Why were the chocolates sour? Were they grapes in disguise or simply my bruised tongue?
See the walls stand white and still and how pretty those shadows look- all edge, no colour. Devouring dragons melting before myopic eyes and a fractured mind. Always loved animal-shaped shadows formed with clever fingers.
Dragons don't scare me. Other things do.
Too much coffee or too little?
Did someone poison my wine just a tad, or are the demons here for a party again? Burn some incense- perhaps they'll go away.
Light a candle and watch the blue core of a flickering flame.
Steady now, thats your whole life... so focus and let the rest melt away.
Wish I was a dewdrop- fresh, sparkling, wet with life, reflecting every colour around, resting on a bed of green. Waiting to be swept off its feet by a warm lusting sun.
I never read a book twice over, so why the deja vu tonight?
Am I reliving this same life? Or those from another world, another time, when they still had wars and ghosts and darkness, and words hurt more than swords? And today as I sit before this square of light, I'm wondering, would clicking a trigger hurt less than that click which tells you 'inbox 0'?
Should I wait for the birds to start chirping and the black sky to turn midnight blue? Will it be another perfect day?
If so, perhaps its worth waiting for.
And in the meanwhile, time for some black magic.
The real stuff.
As the naked night closes in on me.
Friday, April 7
The owl and the pussycat (remixed)
<
Illustrated by Donna L. Derstine (1959 - )
I
The owl and the pussycat met at dawn
In a city by the sea
They went for a stroll, looking oh so droll
Holding hands as lovers should be.
The owl looked up to the sun above
And said, could we step indoors?
I’ll sing you a song you’ve never heard
Feed you bread and cheese and more.
And more
And more
Not bread and cheese, but more.
II
Pussy said to the owl, you delicate fowl
What a sweet clever way to ask
Oh let us then kiss, in cool shady bliss
And down the beer from the cask.
They rode the waves for a night and a day
In a land where the honey tree grows
Just the stars above, watched them sweetly make love
Till a wicked sun arose.
It rose
It rose
The wicked sun rose and all the passion froze.
III
Said the owl to the pussy
You scheming hussy,why didn’t I see it before
And pussy just smiled and let him go wild
As they kicked and screamed some more.
And the very next day, they both ran away
And vowed they would meet again soon
When they were lonely, and perhaps if only
To dance by the light of the moon
The moon
The moon
Just to dance by the light of the moon.
<
Courtesy of Home Office Mall
Notes: I like stories which don't end, and as for poems I rarely figure out if they do... like the original below
...and did they live happily ever after?
The Owl and the Pussycat - 1871 - by Edward Lear
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey,
and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married;
too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Illustrated by Donna L. Derstine (1959 - )
I
The owl and the pussycat met at dawn
In a city by the sea
They went for a stroll, looking oh so droll
Holding hands as lovers should be.
The owl looked up to the sun above
And said, could we step indoors?
I’ll sing you a song you’ve never heard
Feed you bread and cheese and more.
And more
And more
Not bread and cheese, but more.
II
Pussy said to the owl, you delicate fowl
What a sweet clever way to ask
Oh let us then kiss, in cool shady bliss
And down the beer from the cask.
They rode the waves for a night and a day
In a land where the honey tree grows
Just the stars above, watched them sweetly make love
Till a wicked sun arose.
It rose
It rose
The wicked sun rose and all the passion froze.
III
Said the owl to the pussy
You scheming hussy,why didn’t I see it before
And pussy just smiled and let him go wild
As they kicked and screamed some more.
And the very next day, they both ran away
And vowed they would meet again soon
When they were lonely, and perhaps if only
To dance by the light of the moon
The moon
The moon
Just to dance by the light of the moon.
<
Courtesy of Home Office Mall
Notes: I like stories which don't end, and as for poems I rarely figure out if they do... like the original below
...and did they live happily ever after?
The Owl and the Pussycat - 1871 - by Edward Lear
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey,
and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,
What a beautiful Pussy you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"
Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh! let us be married;
too long we have tarried:
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
To the land where the bong-tree grows;
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,
With a ring at the end of his nose,
His nose,
His nose,
With a ring at the end of his nose.
Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Wednesday, April 5
She loves me, She loves me not
Well since the last one didn't quite work out, here's my second shot at love poetry!
I've been pondering
On this deep deep thought
Did she love me
Or did she not?
I knew that she knew
My mind was askew
My heart in a stew
My assets so few.
Nevertheless
She did pretend
She would bend
A few precious inches
To accommodate my hinges!
And try to ignore
What was clearly an eyesore.
And she tried so hard
To treat me right
Tell me I was her shining knight.
And I raised an eyebrow
And breathlessly said 'wow'
Would you really
make my dreams come true
Let me have my cake
and eat it too?
I tell you, by jove , she loved me
No matter how much she craved to be free.
She loved me
Like a little bumblebee
Making honey
Stinging like hell
Yet wishing me well.
Oh yes, she loved me
Even as she trashed me.
Made me feel like a king
In that magic golden ring.
'Twas 'nough for me
A warm playful buddy
('buddy' I said, not 'body')
'Twas perfect
When she left.
'Cos I'm an old man
Humbly profess, an 'also ran'.
To rock the boat,
Gets my goat.
And after all
I just needed to see
Whether or not
She loved me.
And all I have to do
Is believe its true
Long after she flew,
Keep believing
its true.
She loved me
Yes she loved me
Just like she loved you.
Loved every last one of you.
I've been pondering
On this deep deep thought
Did she love me
Or did she not?
I knew that she knew
My mind was askew
My heart in a stew
My assets so few.
Nevertheless
She did pretend
She would bend
A few precious inches
To accommodate my hinges!
And try to ignore
What was clearly an eyesore.
And she tried so hard
To treat me right
Tell me I was her shining knight.
And I raised an eyebrow
And breathlessly said 'wow'
Would you really
make my dreams come true
Let me have my cake
and eat it too?
I tell you, by jove , she loved me
No matter how much she craved to be free.
She loved me
Like a little bumblebee
Making honey
Stinging like hell
Yet wishing me well.
Oh yes, she loved me
Even as she trashed me.
Made me feel like a king
In that magic golden ring.
'Twas 'nough for me
A warm playful buddy
('buddy' I said, not 'body')
'Twas perfect
When she left.
'Cos I'm an old man
Humbly profess, an 'also ran'.
To rock the boat,
Gets my goat.
And after all
I just needed to see
Whether or not
She loved me.
And all I have to do
Is believe its true
Long after she flew,
Keep believing
its true.
She loved me
Yes she loved me
Just like she loved you.
Loved every last one of you.
Tuesday, April 4
blood on my hands
I'm going to kill.
Tomorrow perhaps
Or the day after.
And it won't be simple.
Oh no it won't!
Don't fool yourself
Because I don't.
It won't be the usual way
Like a quick and easy lay
That you get out of the way
Like just another day.
This one will be tough
Nerve wracking and rough
Long, painful and slow,
Little did you know
I wouldn't let you go.
Will twist the jagged edge
Putrid pungent steel
Slicing bit by bit
What can never heal.
Watch calmly as you burn
Teaching you to learn
What you'll never live to be
What your screaming now to see.
As your insides spill out...red
Fear roaring in your head
It never hurts, you'd said
Now it will,
...long before your dead.
So stop me if you can
Try and be a man
But your brain will let you down
Even as you drown.
That brain you so cherish
Will stand by as you perish
Turn its back and wait
Too scared to fight the hate.
As I dig it deeper still,
Need to have my fill.
And I sip a glass of wine
And know it will be fine.
As I leave you now,
I leave you,
To rot and writhe and whine.
Sorry baby
It was your blood or mine.
Tomorrow perhaps
Or the day after.
And it won't be simple.
Oh no it won't!
Don't fool yourself
Because I don't.
It won't be the usual way
Like a quick and easy lay
That you get out of the way
Like just another day.
This one will be tough
Nerve wracking and rough
Long, painful and slow,
Little did you know
I wouldn't let you go.
Will twist the jagged edge
Putrid pungent steel
Slicing bit by bit
What can never heal.
Watch calmly as you burn
Teaching you to learn
What you'll never live to be
What your screaming now to see.
As your insides spill out...red
Fear roaring in your head
It never hurts, you'd said
Now it will,
...long before your dead.
So stop me if you can
Try and be a man
But your brain will let you down
Even as you drown.
That brain you so cherish
Will stand by as you perish
Turn its back and wait
Too scared to fight the hate.
As I dig it deeper still,
Need to have my fill.
And I sip a glass of wine
And know it will be fine.
As I leave you now,
I leave you,
To rot and writhe and whine.
Sorry baby
It was your blood or mine.
Monday, April 3
Here
Am I thinking?
Again?
Am I?
No, I'm just here.
Like I always was.
Like a limerick
Never written.
Like an apple
Never bitten.
Like a ghost
Never smitten.
And after every war
When I asked for more
After every hug
The hole I dug
To bury myself
After every cry
When I tried to die
Bricks and stone
Skull and bone
Left me here alone.
So
Do you ever think
I might be on the brink
Do you ever
See me as I am?
Even try to give a damn?
Do you?
And
Can you see me now?
Can you ask me how
I'm still here?
Will you fight yourself
Will you fight me
Will you
to be here too?
Again?
Am I?
No, I'm just here.
Like I always was.
Like a limerick
Never written.
Like an apple
Never bitten.
Like a ghost
Never smitten.
And after every war
When I asked for more
After every hug
The hole I dug
To bury myself
After every cry
When I tried to die
Bricks and stone
Skull and bone
Left me here alone.
So
Do you ever think
I might be on the brink
Do you ever
See me as I am?
Even try to give a damn?
Do you?
And
Can you see me now?
Can you ask me how
I'm still here?
Will you fight yourself
Will you fight me
Will you
to be here too?
Friday, March 31
Too close
Come up here
Close to me
Close
So I can see your face
So I can smell your skin
And see your eyes
Looking at me.
Closer
So I can feel your breathe
Hear those words
You speak not
Yet.
And I'll come closer too
So close
You wouldn't be able to
See my face
Or my eyes
tightly shut
Or that flaming mouth
Which now feels cold and blue.
And if we could only
Pull close enough
To melt away the masks
And smile with our eyes
At the sweetness underneath.
Or shall we just
Rip them off
And wince
At the ugliness
we knew we would see?
The painting above is Rene Magritte's 'Lovers II' (1928)
For a poignant piece on that and the NY subway (by Frank McDonnell) read
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