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.