|
I’m a late night wake of wakefullness, rolling through the hours of wide-eyed emptiness. A free loving hippy snoozer without the snooziness. I sleep in between the rays of the moon and ride the coattails of evening stars. Love me two times and I might come back for more, shy me once and I may never return. But the other out there welcomes me, saturates me, harbours a full sea of something. Something filled with tentacles and slippery shoes, reaching arms to entangle my hair in the rush of void-winds. Gas, the breath of giants encircling my mind and forever orbiting each thought with tidal moons. Saltarello, Saltarello, Scherzo in the depths, Smothering Sunday into each other’s steps. A violin in the spheres singing to the absent audience and awaiting their applause with bated breath. I dance on the boards between each crescent watching rockets take to the skies, and laughing each moment that rushes by. A hand for two, palms and skin sensitive teachers.
Are we all seen in bad light
To the unseen good, Trustlessness quotes From a dishonest build. The book the world wrote, So no honesty goes unpunished, The struggle to survive, Is the honest struggle to lie.
  If all these seas were beached,
If all I saw was lost, If all windy sails reached, Who will harbour the cost? Sleeping cold grey hills, rumbling stomach
Release the rain, Open wound a manner of spite, Drooping eyes, dripping sky. Mounting darkness leaves the ground, Littered shadows to Closing trees, scrabble for shelter These games, these games, pen and paper. I tire looking for land Upon which to stand, Make my bread, duvet cover, Inner. The silence grows, Bleats and squawks as ears listen. Trembling heart, eyelids close Forget the thought, It was never yours. The third person says to self: Observe the first, just Keep your eyes on her, don’t look away Keep you eyes on her Rising. From the carbon We’re all made. At the end The day is dim, Dimming dimmer As mist becomes vaguer. And dreams dream of themselves Traps spring From set-pieces. I am finished. I. The lost, forgotten beach Lies still and unseen, Driftwood and footprints Living memories undreamed. II. Stoned is the heathen heart A mounting terror of placated parts; Perched on islands Dribbling memories, A mandated scar. Flail about with our hearts, Ignore the arts, We make our way regardless. Our love digs deep For more than cash in the purse, Your way to disperse Greed as an unbudding seed. We may look forward We may look back, The historian knows our call The musician hears it all; The tracks are set Paths our feet pet, We’ll remember the words You’ll long regret and wish to forget.
Hunger,
I do not want hunger. Hunger drives me to the fridge, An absolutist gesture. Money, How I do want money. Money drives me to the brink, Of corruptible conceit.
I.
Return to the empty beach Where the sea lost its breeze, A lonely peculiar scene Ravishing stones at my feet. II. The me inside me is not the me that I see He is someone else smoking cigarettes by the tree, A crooked elbow rests in alleyway cafés Blowing smoke blooms into the summer drenched skyway.
I.
The great and empty beach Where stones lay unwashed; Sun burn scolds pitted face Logs leave off what is lost. II. If I had stayed, I would surely have committed suicide, It was in my mind, Like the absence of a lifeline Keeping me safe as it pulls me in. I had nobody, And nobody had me. Even now That seems not so far away, A guessing game: - How do you unwind loneliness, - Reverse the trend of solitude? “You pushed everyone away” Voices echo from the cave, You all pushed me away, A life I had to save. I did not know how to live, Their lives were theirs, Mine was mine; I was not one of them, Just one of me, All the time, All the time.
There’s this gun pointing at my head,
It’s been there for many years; Arms they never tire from aiming the barrel to the temple, that soft spot above my ears.
|
Archives
All
|
RSS Feed