Hackles

Take a breath and look, simple fool,

You don't have a clue what zoo your in,

Or what animals' cage you just shook.

I'm glad to say your safe, simple fool,

For time they wouldn't waste on you,

No matter what you say, no matter what you do.

Try holding your tongue a moment,

Use your brain first, simple fool; your disenchanting rant,

A scattered mass of yarn slipping off a spool.

No one really cares what your saying,

Your a couple of laughs in the evening,

Simple fool, join in; 'I am glad that your leaving'.

Let this be a lesson, simple fool, of a stranger's flattering kiss,

It does not mean you sleep together, it doesn't mean there yours;

You can't always get your way and you should never take the piss.

The Pain I See In Innocence

You curl there like infinity,

Your head hidden beneath

Any bit of you you can stretch that far,

Hiding from the ensuing day;

In the quiet bustle of the morning rush

You can listen, drink it all in:

Hiding from you ennui day.

A hours trip outside, the rest of the day

A ghost, in the company of an old man,

In the silence of his ageing pride;

You lie there in your little ball

Making what you can and when,

Half asleep, only alive to the listening;

The long walks we take, a new face in the house,

Long grooming strokes; O the joys

To see your heart beat and you eyes start glistening.

I look at you and cry, sweet innocence,

That your years are short and empty,

My spirit breaks each time I leave:

I dream of changing my mind,

Love is never something life can truly ever fully...

We just don't have time to perceive.

Soon I shall be gone, sweet innocence,

I may see your angel face no more;

My tears start every time I leave,

To every time I return,

Through your worlds-end door.

The Autumn Dusk

The grey wash fog sits,

Like cotton-wool, languid

Upon the conifer's green surf,

Twinkling like a rush hour star

To the blind, deaf, and dumb.

The nip of unloved hearts sting,

Flesh red raw, lingering

In the treacle blood trail,

Oozing over skin to every open door,

Saturating everything in deathly silence.

The damp rag of earth underfoot,

Like the soft pillow, wet

With a widow's first night alone,

Deeply dark, leaving dank footprints

To all who come her way.

The candle-light, and the car-light,

Silently disagreeable in a time

Of neither night nor day,

Lost and floating in a cloud,

All that was solid has been lost.

The stark unfinished collage,

Like ideas on a white-washed wall,

Of bricks, mortar, flesh and bone,

Capillarous hairs stretch out across the void:

Blood on porcelain, heading for the plug.

The envious sick is all that survives

The drain, like the untying of a balloon,

Slowly, all shades of grey and off-white

Are dragged away, as the table cloth

From all that exists, leaving only the night.

Your Last Meal

I thought you just a too tight sock,

Or a pain from where I did tire;

Yet when I had stripped and into bed,

The pain became somewhat dire.

I threw off the blanket with great haste,

I fumbled about for the fire;

With the lamp lit I finally saw,

What did make me hie and gyre.

I looked down in the light and there you were,

My little deer tick vampire

Spiel Off (A hundred Pocket Sonnets)

You can say you love, and

You can claim you love, it doesn't matter

Its lost all meaning,

Its never any good;

You love and you love,

And its never what you should;

Learn romance:

Don't push weights,

We all know what happens to the stud!

Your hunting wabbits, be a bunny,

Don't be Elmer Fudd,

Don't say I love.

Show it in your eyes,

In the way you say hello;

Learn to sit and wait

For more than the length of just one date,

You owe it to yourself,

And only you can tell,

It grows from what you do,

Not just because you can say,

I love you. I love you too.

As I Suck The Blood From Between My Teeth And Gums

In the bleak black night I search for the faces,

And listen for those noises;

I wait for them to get closer,

Until it is too late to escape,

Hiding my eyes I scare myself,

Thinking of all those stories that I once read;

Murderers, rapists, the sadistic unstoppable un-dead.

They never come, I'm not in a hurry,

I can wait for my bloodied last gasp,

My last agonising scream cut short in the flurry;

Steel, blades, metal; stricken flesh and bone,

I feel this, I can taste the iron in my mouth:

The smile that lights my face with fire,

I gulp the saliva down, it lets out a chortle;

I bite my lip and tongue and think,

Of all the times I've pressed the point,

Of the double bevel, thinking,

Once you break the skin,

You roll the snowball down that hill,

Once you break the skin,

You might as well just kill;

But I bide my time, I ferment myself,

Like the perennial bigos stew,

Floating on the effervescence

Of this playful little ruse.

I cogitate in bed, my mind begins to creep,

It poses the questions, that I dream

The answers to, in my sleep.

I could act at any moment,

And I've nearly let it slip;

But I shall tarry my time,

I shall play my part, along this merry trip;

They think they have the best of me,

I'm not the captain of the ship,

But I stand by the anchor,

And I'm poised, ready to let rip:

You either float along in the river,

And take what comes your way;

Or you hold on to the rock, you swim and swim and swim,

And you pray and pray and pray;

Yet you pray to empty idols, those that never answer,

The scriptures in their names only

Infect us like a cancer;

Why live and die in a name, or a face,

That you cannot read or see,

The only god to believe, that true trinity,

Is what we all think, see and feel;

My doppelganger, my environment, and their tool,

Their tool which is me.

I am their blade, I provide with what they need,

I kill their prey, I cut their food,

I protect them from the night,

And when our time is spent, I

Shall cut out the eyes,

I shall turn out the light.

I am the bloodied sword of self-justice,

The pen-knife of the wise;

I am the spearhead of protection,

The dagger of one's guise.

We live and die alone, trapped within ourselves,

We climb out of the pit we are born,

With rocks to help and hold,

Sand that pulls us down, and for a purpose,

Stories to be told.

Let me tell you a story, before I begin to forget,

Before I become too old.

This is the story of a man,

That knew what life was for;

Now he knew it was all interlinked,

The priest, with the worms,

The eagle and the whore;

But like the amoeba, man,

The wood that makes the door;

That you hide your thoughts behind,

Thoughts that everyone has had before;

His life had little purpose,

From everything he read, to everything he saw,

And everyday he would awake, after he had seen,

The very same postulate, in his nightly dream;

What is this life and what is my goal,

I see no spirit, and I see no soul;

So he sat around and pondered, on what it all might be,

And he came to the decision, he would see

What he couldn't see;

He put his plan into action, all provisions in place,

What was necessary.

He came out on top, learnt what he knew;

Life is just for living, there is nothing special to it,

Ask the animals, they will say its true;

You do what you have to, to get what you want to.

Now this man lives his life, knowing

That we can never know,

But no matter what happens, it is all part of the show;

So I push this blade against my neck,

And feel my pulse slip back, I laugh,

Just imagine if I began to hack.

We have it all to experience and everything is fun,

To hold a woman in your arms,

To hold a woman in her thoughts,

To hold a loaded gun;

We load one bullet, pass it around;

Welcome to our new game-show,

When I am gone, turn to the next contestants,

And tell them;

Either you, or I, or both, must go.

Live your life, like I have mine,

Like no one else I see,

Take with you everything and make it,

Everything you be,

Carry no bags, and carry no water,

Just you follow me,

And when the time is right,

I will eat you and you can eat me;

And we can laugh as we die,

And throw empty curses to the sky,

Laugh at the thought of those who cry;

I couldn't even if I was to try;

Don't ever frown don't ever sigh,

Unless you have a good reason why;

Listen and watch, don't ever pry,

Use the power of a lie;

But never forget to enjoy,

That most perfect moment in life:

When you live, love, hurt, laugh, kill, cry,

Fail, lose,

And most importantly, when you die.

I'm In Joyce's Portal

It was a bit of genius right there,

To some, might be your angel name,

But to Wordsworth you were always Luke;

A bit of shit, from the same dog, on that very same tyre,

And it isn't fluke, you threw me the ball,

You saved me

Shaving away at this square peg;

She would never have helped, held up,

Even a tent of a home.

Take it back, to where you lost it all,

I know why,

But no-one else can see, the selfish,

And their world of the over-exposed;

Take it back,

It doesn't matter, whose glove is she:

One size fits all,

I may be capricious,

It fitted well with her crotchety;

Whomsoever be the revolutionary,

Tomorrow, we will wait and see:

Manana, I can see; but what was it

Santayana said about history.