Wednesday, 19 September 2012

A Gypsy's Key

I have the key,
I've got the key
But to what,
Who knows where;
Or how to get there
Or why. Still
And still I try.

Sometimes I sit and beside me I cry,
Where I look
Of all I search.
I try try try
But it doesnt fit,
There is no place that seems to be
To fit the me, to fit this key.

Give it up
Show me the way, this goddamned noise
Deafening me
Drilling into my skull,
Letting it all drip out

Then I am nothing but a mess
A puddle on the floor
Crying on the key.

Is that the door?

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

For When The Devil Is Behind You

Don't forget
All flowers push up through dirt,
No matter how bright and beautiful.
It's what makes you unique,
Enigmatic, and you.
Labels cannot stick to you, never, not
Like the others and the others do.
Embrace the freedom that has given you wings.

Beauty is not just in the eye of the beholder,
Rather, (and here comes the maths) it is everything you do
Over everything you don't,
Added to everything that is you.
Don't stay in the negative too long
(Logic would assume that negatives are just wrong)!
Everything that is beautiful, is everything, is

Monday, 17 September 2012

Fire, Glow

In the drip drip dripping tap,
I hear the tick tock ticking clock,
And the chimes as it strikes: 
Nine on the mantel top.

The fire pop pops and crackle cracks,
As the silence of the snowy night
Rap tap taps at the door.
There is nobody here;
now or ever before;

But the fire burns
And the clock ticks on -
And will only stop when the time is all gone. 
The comfy sheets, and those puffy pillows 
Will st
ay permanently plump,

Eagerly awaiting

The last pops and crackles from the hearth,

The quick cold footsteps

And the slump and the two bodies jump

Retreating for the night. 

In the ticking clock I wait,

Tending to the fire 

The kettle at the boil, 

Ready for desire,

I keep the pillows plumped

And the home a beacon in the night,

That her adrift in the snow dark sky will see my light.

Yet still there is wine and tea and food to eat, 

Warmed toes by the fire.

What can I do, 

Everything is ready.

All I need is you.

Saturday, 8 September 2012

Day Four - The Cat Naps In Camp

The cold plastic material smell
Blotting out every other sense,
As the husk drips and sweats
With the dark breaths of night.

The tearing shudder
Throwing back the skin,
Dragging in the morning light
As it sniffs at this new day.

Jostling for freedom
The man is expelled,
As the day reaches for all it can:
Kissing, dewy, blissful white.

The air holds nothing of the night,
Only the smile is left:
This absurd world -
Stretching into the day

Like a lazy Chesshire Cat.

Monday, 13 August 2012

Kubus Only Tasted Good Because You Recommended It

The best thing I have ever known
Is seeing your smile
Blot out the summer sun.

The sweetest song that has ever been sung,
Flutters around my head
With every word you speak.

The closest to peace there ever was,
Is sitting by your side,
And the touch of your hand.

Without you, my life would go on;
Without the warm Summers breeze.
Without you the colours wont shine,
They wont paint pictures
In the Autumn leaves.

Without you a smile uses muscles,
To counteract a frown.
With you, I hardly noticed;
But it was always around.

If only time could stop,
Then I could win your heart.

You don't love me
And probably never will.
I wanted to tell you how you make me feel.
To show you.
I could never do that.  I love you too much.

The best thing I have ever known
Is standing in your smile.
Though it is all it might ever be

I just can't stop.
I can't stop loving the birds, the littlest insects, people as the pass me by,
The leaves, and the trees, the sun, wind, the rain;
The night, the day, food;
Every little problem in my life, every success,
Every time I think it is the end.

It shines on in pure blissful knowledge.
It shines because you make it shine.

The best thing I have ever know
Is you.

Saturday, 4 August 2012

So Pitiful

I liked to think I wasn't alone;
But even my own reflection wont look at me.
I cried the other night,
Only to find myself
Mocking and laughing
At the idiot that I was.
I find myself
Just barely tolerating
My feeble body and weak mind.
Shedding my skin
Like returning home after a winter walk;
One that involved much exertion.
I don't care much to think of myself,
I am not sure we even get on,
I'm happy this way.

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

When Only The Clouds Move

Don't be so sure,
It's as easy to say it wont snow tomorrow.
I feel the cold, can't you.
My limbs and extremities shook,
All I feel is numb.
Like ice, only not enough hair
To stand up to this.
A lot can happen before tomorrow.
Its getting cold as this day
Only grows short.
Where is everyone.
Time is ready to freeze
The blank sickness
Of the white sky,
And the tame frosted glass
Grass hills.
All still like a night illuminated;
I sit smudged across
A photo of warmth and awe,
In this frozen scene.
I burrow and dig,
I am long gone,
Frozen: just ice.
You'll come out in the thaw.

Broken Compass

Did you hear me call you,
When all beds had partners?
I was going to call on you;
But what would I say.
Nothing can make the time up.
Like those you really love,
Time: when you realise, its gone away.
I tried not to dream of you, last night,
When we slept, so far apart.
I heard your voice
Before I seen your face.
I never knew you, before;
I don't even know you now.
I search days, days,
People and faces,
Where is your congruency,
Just the negative
Sitting still like the photo,
Waiting for the light, my life,
Spinning in illegitimacy.

Saturday, 14 July 2012

Epitaphs In Grey

The grey upon the grey,
In a grey night of grey,
Upon my grey white pillow.
My eyes grey to black.
Out of my grey sight
A little black grey figure
Rounds the grey white crest
Of my grey white pillow,
Sitting in the grey of night.
The little grey brown spider,
Seeing my eyes grey to black,
Scuttling fast across the grey white mass,
Into the black grey of my mouth.
I can't move in the grey night,
Upon my nest of grey white,
As the grey black sits heavy
On my grey flesh.
I feel the grey brown legs
Stopping on my maroon grey tongue,
Then scuttling down into the grey black gullet.
My body frozen in the grey of time,
In the grey night of grey:
A corpse of grey,
Lain upon a grey white grave
In the grey grey night.
The grey green light
Turns grey to black.

Monday, 9 July 2012

I Don't Mind

Sweet mind, little mind, or no mind at all;
I don't mind,
If you don't.
Just don't call, I can't be talked down;
I've been built up for the big fall.
I can't be talked to:
Talk to you, I wont.
Let us look at my chances,
And think about
The whole lot of nothing
That you can do.
Think about it and see,
Everything I say
Might be true;
Then again I might have lied,
At least you tried;
But seeing inside from outside
Is as hard as can be;
Don't you agree.

Say what you like;
Sweet mind, little mind,
I don't mind at all.

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Dead Man's Bells

Dead man's bells,
Dead man's bells,
Louder and louder, driving me madly
Towards the tower.
I'll climb the steps
And throw myself
From the Dead man's bells.

Dead man's bells,
Dead man's bells;
To drive out this pain,
Sitting like a ball
Deep within my pit.
I can't tear it out,
I'll flush it out
With the Dead man's bells.

Dead man's bells,
Dead man's bells;
A sweet silent song you sing,
Teach me how to sing,
Let me drink you in;
I cannot think of a song more beautiful,
Than the silence you will bring,
As I attend to chorus
Of the Dead man's bells.

Dead man's bells,
Dead man's bells;
I wish I had never heard you sing,
I wish your beauty pass me by;
But now I've been sucked in.
You drive me mad,
Dead man's bells,
And now I hear no other song.
The only way to stop the Dead man's bells
Is the Dead man's bells.

Sunday, 1 July 2012

In The Rain

I'm looking for you in the cold grey rain,
To stand besides, to watch the night roll in.
The water slips from my hair, running down my skin.
Where are you, black shadow girl,
To find love in the cold grey rain.
The wind stings a frightened dog nip across my cheek;
Where are you to ease my pain.

Saturday, 23 June 2012

The Hollow Husk

I gave my soul away,
To whom I cannot recall.
Wandering lonely in the dark,
My hand runs the wet cold wall.
Inside I'm just a rat in a maze:
Inside, an eternal fight.
Whom has the quest to lift this curse,
Who can put it right.
So I wander on waiting
For the day to save my soul,
No light at the end of the tunnel,
No relent in the endless goal.
I fear not in the dark,
Which I do of I,
My own worst enemy;
He whom tells to give up and die.
I wish I could hear,
I wish I only asked why.

Sunday, 17 June 2012

The Hard And Dirty Feet

One pair of feet
Carry this sad sack of shit,
Through this meandering mess of a life.
Holding only memories,
The rest slipping;
Falling through the gaps
Never to be seen again.
Searching, forever searching,
Never finding,
Not knowing what's even being searched for.
Moving like the wandering dead,
A deathly shadow with no place to rest;
No place that feels like home,
No love to kindle love:
The love that burns, yearning.
And so, these lonely feet
Continue to roam.

Waiting For Her Sun

The air sits still in the valley,
As the wind rushes past above,
Spots of rain begin to infest
Each of the slate flagstones.
The trees watch silently
The day passing by,
In this forever lonely
Grey pallor world.
Like the hours before the dawn,
Dark and deathly;
Where nothing seems to move,
Only the rain falling
In lethargic tear drops.

Crying out for the warm kiss of sun,
To feel her touch
Upon skin, earth, and everything
Blessed by her beauty:
Golden rays, brushing over the land
Like the long angel locks,
Falling from her crown,
Framing this world, mirroring
Her enigmatic face
That captures the heart
At the very first glance.
Clear the weeping rain from the step,
Running hands through golden hair;
Come sweet kissing sun.

Saturday, 9 June 2012

A Flower Kept In A Pocket

You can't see the words I speak
When nobody is around,
Or what I think when I look,
When I don't make a sound.

You can't sense what I feel
When walking in the wood,
Or why, at all, I walk.
I wish you could.

You don't see the beauty
That burns my soul,
Or what I want, what I need
To make me feel whole.

You don't see the light
That fills this place,
Or the sweet scented flowers
That at your feet, grace.

You wont ever look with these eyes of mine,
That see this truth;
And for all that is written and drawn,
You are the living proof.

You wont warm to the touch
Of my two hands, you see.
I'll hold them out wide
And you'll never come to me.

Saturday, 2 June 2012

Angel Artist

A brook, a field,
Big rocks, and little stones,
Some sheep, and some trees.
The sweetest birdsong
Unto ears blessed;
From moors and seashore in the east,
To mountains and lakes in the west.

The beauty of a dream
Sits within my field of vision,
Burning like the sun.
She is the valley
And all sits within her creases,
Living like the green, and ceaseless

Valley grass; feeding, nourishing,
On which the newborn lambs
Rest their woollen heads;
Where we lay down
In the sun's golden strands:
One look, a brush of hands.

One look, a brush of hands,
And the wind whispers on,
I open my eyes, as if from sleep;
She was just a dream
And though for her I search
She is gone.

The artist of the valley,
Painting the grass so green,
Playing those sweet songs for me;
I search your hips and arch of your brow,
To paint you a smile
To match the smile you give me.

Tuesday, 15 May 2012

Blind-sided By Blindness

I will never be so willing
Extrovert again,
When all about is marred
By gall and veiny wen.

And just like fresh fruit
Taken from the tree,
Perfect in its moment
Never for eternity.

Much like the speech
Book read,
It has to end, and life
Justified by the dead.

Gluttonous greed shadows
Will never sate,
To dig one's grave
To seal all fate.

Caged birds sing
Happy in security,
Only truth can soar
On wings flying free.

Warming milk on the stove
Bubbled over and burnt,
The story of life, the story-book
Read but nothing learnt.

And what was once one
Bruises on fruit no longer fresh,
The amicable and benign
Blistering out of the flesh.

St. Jude (St. Vincent Millay Pastiche)

After all my erstwhile executioner,
My no-longer affable;
Need we say it wasn't love
Just because it's liable.

Monday, 14 May 2012

Sickle Stickle

In solitude by the tearing force,
Sheltered beneath the crag;
Barrelling down the valley
An excruciating gale deafens
From heart, soul, and mind.

I cry not, and care not,
Sheep, hiding all they possess
In secrecy and fear,
Something from me.

Upon mossy rocks,
Over damp boggy fells;
The trickle of stones
Down from the pike,
Unseen desperation.

I cannot see the lost lamb,
Bleating by a beck;
Or smell the sodden rotting flesh,
Ewe, lying dead
As the tarn water dissolves
What meat there was

Taking all over the tearing force,
Pushed on, faster, and faster
By the masterful, unforgiving wind;
Spreading all: settling dust,
Leaving nothing that was,
In silence.

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

Mostly Insignificant

Born on the full moon,
The summer of eighty-eight;
Being a baby is always easy,
No value no worth:
His mother even leaves, see. Now
Just keep pounding the street,
He lives on his feet
Living for his soul
His heart, trying to make ends meet;
And he can play around,
But he knows where it lies,
Study the man but you wont find the ties;
A free man, no body,
He lives and he dies.


Incandescent soul, getting brighter and brighter
As you burn my toes with the flame;
Lighter and lighter and
Higher and higher,
As my spirit slips from within this frame.

I peel off the husk of a man misspelt
To be the tumbling Autumn leaf;
Winding through this windy world
I become the wind
In all its majestic invisible relief.

Behind the times the shadow sits,
Dark and dim, standing out like a light,
Against this culture, dark and grim;
A house full of empty heads, and no phone in,
The last surviving in the endless night.

Incandescent soul, getting brighter and brighter;
On scorched earth I stand
In deserts; where no shadows can hide,
And each life sits, waiting for the wind,
Just a grain of sand.

Friday, 20 April 2012

My Faith's On Me

Your rhetoric is pathetic
Leading people blind, blinkered, and blindfolded,
Spawning evil in insolence and ignorance;
You want to pray to a god,
That don't even heed its people,
Sitting on a throne in buildings unequaled,
While the poor man, uneducated and feeble,
Follows the tales in the hope that its real;
Sitting in the slums, he gave his last penny
To a preacher,
Sitting in his nice house, nice car on the drive,
Spouting the bullshit and stealing from the weak
To thrive.
Does your god keep the evil
Well and alive
In the story books you were read as a child;
Did you sit these characters next to Winnie the pooh?
Fuck no! Because they seen weakness in you
To exploit blind faith
And fear and fallacy,
Now you sit there regurgitating your
Hollow hypocrisy;
Why can't you open your eyes
And see whats true,
That there's no afterlife,
Like in your book's scare tactics:
Your jumping at boo!
Why can't you live
Like this life is just billions of you,
No matter who these people:
Want whats right;
Yet instead we have heads
Getting filled with this shite,
You say we are all brothers
Then why aren't we tight,
A unity, looking after each other,
Striving for whats right;
It ain't heaven and hell
Its here and now,
So stand together
For the what and how,
Fuck all the bullshit
They try to feed us all,
Throw them to the street
Its time to stand tall.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Lose The Pack (Before You Fall On Your Back)

Boeing seven-three-seven smile,
House-fly lips
Talking against clean glass;
Graffiti stained flesh
The collage of bombs and pieces
From years past by,
The little kid at the family dinner,
Just home from the pantomime.

Doing a Downs Syndrome dance,
Just going on and on;
Bailing from the sea bed
In a thunderstorm.
Done like a war in a far off land,
Covered by a left-wing media;
It was never in hand
And always doomed.

A hedgehog caught out
Next to a foot,
Ball up, fetal,
Stay put, no spikes to see you right!
Boeing seven-three-seven smile;
Where's the wings,
Its time to fly, live a life
Of all things!

Sunday, 15 April 2012

The Dead Bodies of the Grapevine Slayers

We stepped into the bullet-riddled Ford,
Pulled ourselves along Railroad Avenue;
Bullet hole dead, I was,
And the same for you too.

Death has no words in life,
Our dead eyes couldn't see it;
Public enemies, number one;
But in death we couldn't keep it.

Never dead together,
And the Parker's wouldn't have had it;
The robbery and murder
Was always way of habit.

At 9.15 the bullets rained as snow,
On that day of our death.
I would've told you then;
But I didn't have the breath.

I've gone away, our bodies apart,
Into the nothingness after life;
Chestnut and Elizabeth
Could never have been man and wife.

Sweet Ferguson, though in love,
Was married and never divorced him;
And the life with Chestnut
Was always going to end

As it started,
It was
And for ever will be;
A tale macabre and grim.

Saturday, 14 April 2012

Closer, I Can Smell

All that glistens isn't gold,
Came those snowflake eyes,
And the look primed to go;
Don't guild your cottage,
Paint it with lies.

With freedom comes responsibility,
Understand my love;
Make it known, X, Y, Z;
Those underneath,
Those above.

People speak such a lovely shade,
Ride white horses,
And top their towers with a balustrade;
And a net
For the day they fall down.

I see past your words,
Like a deer through the trees;
I don't pigeon-chest this life
Or build myself up,
Because we start and end on our knees.

Friday, 13 April 2012

The Mind Made Up It's Mind

They fill my legs,
Clambering from everywhere
I can't see;
I only notice when they are there,
Under my skin,
Flat, round,
Spidery things;
En masse and slowly filling me.
They will come to killing me,
Feeding on my soul,
I know they can watch;
But I don't know why.
Can they communicate,
Are they talking about me.
Even if they could speak to me
I'd kill them still.
They're filling me up,
If they are even real.

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Don't Paint Us Black (When We Are All)

Black marked leaving black prints,
The tar you brushed me with,
Scrutinise the looking-glass,
Through your dark black tints.

The tar black brush,
Brushed the black on me;
But inside my soul as light as the sun,
My smile as bright as the day.

Your tar black brush
Wont paint me down,
Only baste my spirit, my skin
Thickens; and your time runs thin.

Black marked leaving black prints,
Your tar black paint fueling fire;
And the love red blood
That I breath, live and speak in

Will tar my brush
And stain your flesh,
Flood your lungs,
Burn your soul.

Your tar black brush cant brush away
My beauty and my blood:
Thicker than tar, tremendously strong;
I will always beat you down.

Your tar black brush can't blacken the dawn,
When we will beat you down,
Our souls as light as the sun,
And in our blood, you'll drown.

Memoirs En Masse

Another day of dust blown out
Into the dank dark night,
And in my mellow mind at ease,
Memories form from the shadows of leaves
Resting in the trees, drawing
Notice, twitching in the breeze.
The zephers evoke a zoo of zombies
From within times zeitgeist graves;
In these impeccably innovated irreplaceable images
Invented and installed in-place
Of something quite different altogether,
I see the most beautiful and best,
Brilliant and buxom, bar none.
The heavy dust of another
Dank dark day blown out,
Out into the truthful night
Where all is admitted,
Where there is no light.

Wednesday, 11 April 2012

To Die A Million Deaths

I am a red Dutch Lily,
Or a moonlit Datura.
Just a seed, so plant me;
Lay me in a trough of earth,
Leave her nurture me
And watch me truly grow.

I am a seed, rightful
To be sown back,
Back into my mother womb;
Feed this germ,
Bring it forward, And
Birth this embryo.

Bury me, lets
Decay this rancid husk,
Free this fetus life
From the dead growth
Of what this world has
Weighed upon me.

I am a red Bleeding Heart,
Or a infinitely white Rose.
Just a seed, just a seed;
Just a seed, plant me;
Lay me in a trough of earth,
Watch me grow.