Frozen

An elastic band stretched
to
breaking
point makes me freeze - fear -
my back -
will snap -
and I will be -

- stuck.

Overlay

Perspex drawing,
laid over lines
from yesterday,
resembles not -
resembles still.

Age defies us
with every day.
Our time marks us,
as we become
grave.

Poet, madman,
Shakespeare knew and
summarised well:

"To die: to sleep"

'Pretty Little Liars'

Drama, personified,
certified,
broken images and
unreal cities of
an ersatz world,
bildungsroman in a visual form,
a seed of truth in every lie?
Bizarre fiction, or the norm?

blog wordle

Concrete nouns

Ellipsis;
the mark of a superfluous word
to be understood by the context.

Invitation;
the mark of esteem and respect
to be understood by the context.

Hug;
the mark of feeling, compassion
to be understood by the context.

Context;
the parts of something that prec-
ede and follow a word or passage.

The Waste Land*

1. The Burial of the Dead

piercing pain and numbness

crossroads

hope/despair

joy/grief

dichotomies between feelings and

extremes of being

and

the narrowing of possibilities to

one

'In the mountains, there you feel free,'

you would frighten others with your anguish and your heart howls

'What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter'

and we are all the same.

Slam*

There's a certain slam of poetry
that echoes in my ears;
it's got metaphor and semaphore,
gestures which can shift gears.

The topics tackled vary
although the most common theme remains;
there's nothing words can't solve
(except those grand things that stay the same).

There's an idea here; Ophelia,
a troubling state of mind,
antonym to all interiors;
'dreamers often lie.'

*not a text poem.

Flashback,

warm nights.
Cold morning, low mist, ice.
Sharp, clean smell and
people.
Some kind of appetite.

Atmospheric pressure means

that one day you will be old.
Time will steal itself from you,
or you from yourself.
Your luggage will be dense
with possibilities
and consequence.

'broken images' T.S Eliot

home
leave(s) in darkness
arrive in darkness
cyclical structures
life imitates art
elegiac.

///////////////

juggling with fire,
spinning plates,
incredible feats of
heroics -
a walk in the park,
comparatively,
when dealing with certain
histrionics.

Dinosaurs

There must be a better way than this,
a crowded bridge to a path by a relic
of our past
juxtaposed
with those alive.

Broken images

How to explain, so you understand?
Broken images coalesce become sea sky island.

How to show you, sans telling?
Simple pleasures are ones most missed,
Heart-dwelling.

Perspective

What is there but time
& the attempt to fill it well?
What is there but time
& our minds, ourselves?
What is there but time
& an endless sky
and an endless well;

a small boat under stars, endless;
time without,
without our selves.

Comfort

In arms of angel comfort here I see
a breath on the air
& a frozen city.
In arms of angel comfort here I glide,
amidst the blanket faces & dreams
of deep night.

Snow day

White seagulls and black crows

perched

on snowy gutters.

Two bus drivers plotting

an

early

journeys

home.

Nose frozen clean away.

Wrong type.

There's nothing more annoying than a-
well, no, that's not, strictly speaking, true.
There aren't many things - or - people,
or maybe, types of people, more annoying than -
no - not types, that's not right -
The most annoying person I know is a -
not to say that - oh, never mind.
Pedants. I don't like them.

Buoyancy

White&pink balloons(without),
sweet homilies, big blooms(within).
No doubt.

A child weaves
tween tall trousered trees&,
barely noticed neath the tea tray,
plays.

> Simple instructions

Close your mouth,
open your mind,
Who knows what you'll find.
See, imagine,
out of time.

Tempus fugit.

Tempus fugit!
Same, relatively, but older,
a collection of
fits starts tricks smarts.
Whole mind in body,
in
complete
alive
ruinous/cascade/falling through.

Three words.

"You may begin."
No gun,
Just tick tock nerves.
Sea of bent heads.
Minds through ink onto lines.
Only you can help yourself,
last week,
open textbook with TV.
Clocks tick, pens flick, life, this.

Pyre

So, have you seen her?
She has made many mad,
unable to describe her magnetism or milky skin.
Always just a little too far to touch,
even when resting in trees.

Follower

Foreign invading space, my space,
claimed, just - get out, stranger,
I'm busy, I'm going, I don't know you -
just leave me alone.

Now

I blinked,
a year passed,
or a decade.
How do you measure time?
In minutes, hours, days?
Or faces, moments, followed trails?
A blink, sideways eight,
ouroboros, heartbeat.

Hot.

Hot head,
cold feet,
can't stay still,
fidget,
metaphor creeps.
Bottom drops as muscles relax,
falling,
suddenly galling,
Waiting for tomo morning.

Life for love.

Can you stake your life on your love?
Suddenly, it all makes sense,
when I saw you crying and in distress I -

…thought nothing of it.

Un(expected/wanted) news,
a turn of the wheel,
a crash of the cymbals,
soft words strong hug brave face -
onwards, the show must go on.

Onwards.
You stake your life on your love,
cross fingers, faith holds, hope lingers.

You stake your life on your love every day.


*not a textpoem.

Stop, look, listen.

Stop spending time,
start using it.

Stop fearing life,
start living it.

Don't look for shadows,
walk in light.

Listen to your heart,
release your sorrows.

Read

She was an avid reader;
of books,
of people,
of faces and tones.

She missed nothing, except -
It was lined on her face,
written on her heart, and

- her sadness enveloped her.

A listener.

Have you been here long?
Did you always sing that song?
I saw you once,
as if in dream,
knocking on a door of make-believe,
moonlight caressing your trusty steed.

Cope.

We have evolved
so that we can change,
adapt ourselves (though never our chains)
and move the Earth to suit our needs
and make the Earth adapt to our greed…

Snow

Falling slopes,
loss of sanity
gain of hopes
against gravity.

The glassy kind of memory
- truths -
the cutting kind
when you mistake your head
for your heels.

Sometimes.

Sometimes there are no words,
in times of great emotion,
surprise,
sadness,
or joy.
Sometimes, there are merely breaths
and moments,
distilled drops of memory.

Riddle

Heads bowed, shying,
from shining yellow
to drying, brown,
shells that carry the sound
of no mortal sea,
a series of swords in the ground,
swaying slightly.

Moment

Natural treasure,
The sea gleams, crashes and roars.
Caressing giant.

Tests

They take us by surprise, the bad days.
Before we know it, we've succumbed
to bad temper,
excuses,
escapist fantasies.
But there's hope,
don't forget,
&love,
&grace.

Millions

Dark times of night/time.
Solid sky, inky eyes,
there's water flowing there.
Nothing wretched, nothing gained,
pirouette
again,
again,
again.

Interim

all i want; to write!
close the world out of my mind
final justified.

For a friend.

Shift your perceptions.
Open your mind.
Just being a (my) parent
does not make you right.
No, you listen for once,
see that you’re bored,
or stressed at work,
tired at home.

/

You "gave me your smarts"
but I didn’t think you meant this,
I thought you’d retain some
for the day-to-day bits.

Denouement.

A mortarboard flies
in company, memories,
middle, start, and end.

solvitur ambulando.

Solve this now.

There's a breath
A movement
in my mind
and I find
a tranquil
shiver on
stormy sea.

I can walk.
Slow my heart.
Think, now, of
tomorrow.

Solvitur
by walking.

Sword-edge

Suffocating, tease,
10 months I waited, can't breathe.
Midsummer-no-dream.

~*~

Sweetwrapper bookmarks
my place in this immense plot
lost upon your desk.

404

File not found, I see
here is where my heart should be.
Instead – I find –– blank.

Just right.

just pick up a pen and write.
pick up a subject, speak your mind.
just write. convince and cajole, tear apart and make whole, show me, write.
Otherwise? It'll be dead and stuck in your mind so pick up a pen
rhyme it again
speak from your heart
and use your mind
just write.

Blocked.

There's a haze over everything,
an impenetrable
indefinable
inability
to string.
Two.
Words.
Together.
This is a rundown show
of unknown force
FORCing me to.Stop.

Twirl.

Falter,

slither softly,

in the light

of a silver slipper

of a moon.

Saunter,

smile tightly,

'neath the boughs,

watch her skin glow

as she moves.

Almost falling.

Do you ever almost fall?
Find yourself on a bright, sunny day,
smelling damp earth like
after rain?
Instead of walking,
you are still
a little back garden
full of brambles and ivy,
not
even
aware
as you
fall into
memories
until it is far too late.

Profile.

The smell of cut grass
follows you everywhere
old-fashioned lawn mower
ear protectors.
Career tools.

Tweentime

Tweentime.

Crisp air,
mighty stars,
and dreams.

Hope, breathe.

time∞

Cusp, space, time,
all and nothing,
mine,
a sip, a dribble, one line
of infinity.
Brown paper,
unravelling twine.

tired

asleep/ sleepy/ sleepiest/

realm of silence and 

reticence.

now i hibernate

now i am myself

now i oscillate

between awake

and dream-stealth.

Stranger walk.

In a second I can tell something that could reveal

I know you well.

One intake of breath

can reveal if you shower daily,

smoke,

maybe

your last meal.

Poignant 

stranger.

While being consoled.

You tell me to be still

and I yearn to destroy it all.

I want to hear breaking glass,

push you away,

and yet,

to break your fall.

Curtains.

Red, white, black,

these are the colours of the stage.

There is nothing the actors lack

and once the curtain 

rises, falls, rises,

no way to go back,

except to be it again.

Jarring.

As strange as it sounds

I don't want excitement,

it's too loud.

Can you hear me?

I want to walk slowly

and enjoy the day.

I want to see clearly

though I may not know the way.

Picture perfect

Twilight tremors onwards,

faster than I can run,

faces made immortal

with the cadence of the sun.

Caught in flashes,

forests frozen,

sky a steely grey.

This is a photo-finish,

& with it light of day.

Riddle.

They say ask me no questions

and I will tell no lies.

What am I? 

A sphinx, a phoenix, a centaur

or one of a million myths,

and all of them,

but newer,

and none.

Reflecting.

For 17minutes on

the 17:20

I studied your

reflection

as you studied your

free paper.

You made no move

to hide the illicit call

to your lover

overheard

/

surreptitiously by

the whole carriage.

When your gf called,

we heard the lies as

they tumbled, then stalled.

Your reflected

doppelganger

was fleshier 

/

than you.

Winter blues.

I saw the blue lights.

Her room, last night

they flickered

and danced on your skin

I blink.

I'm here again,

surrounded by blue lights

and enveloped by sirens.

How?

How do you live with the grey?

Shades of coping,

day by day?

How can you stand

the ambiguity?

Without closure,

Without of sanity.

How do you dream?

In b&w?

Or in between?

Post-dinner dialogue.

Chessboard tablecloth

does not good ground make

for your games and overtures;

arid, jejune, fake.

Tense - past, imperfect. 

Tantamount

to a punch,

I am winded,

and foresaw as much.

Reduce

Squares of blue.

Deceptive. Fearing you,

I keep my head down

and, concentrate, frown.

I pretend. Forced to

look away, you

Flee the scene

leave blue sky serene

and forget I ever was.

To assert.

I can't wait,

but still, I hesitate.

You arrive like a tornado,

a bomb

about to blow,

and assume all will

be as you desire,

your clothes drying in

my funeral's pyre.

But you meet resistance, mine,

unwilling to let this slide.

Shocked, you reel,

and realise you were wrong.

This is how I feel,

and this is my song.

Rowdy neighbours...

Sleep easy,

I can hear you singing

soaked in alcohol,

not quiet but not clear.

I wish you'd turn it up,

blast it out, 

louder,

so I could hear

the cacophony

become fear

through sirens

and flashing lights.

~This was written a few nights ago at 3amish 'inspired' by loud, clearly inebriated, neighbours. 

mix-tape paint.

These jarring lines

from my ears to my mind

from metallic to melted in 60 milli.

No troubles either but no fun really.

A vacuous enjoyment, ready made,

As empty as light when it is in shade,

a useless entity falling apart,

a black hole where there used to be a heart.

train lit.

Rolling

hills,

people

far away,

long journey,

train sways.

In my mind

I'm there

already

a meaning

assigned

to my inner

journey

bends and

brakes.

Running late.

Head against crying wall,

shower steam,

a waterfall,

a predicted spin

of awful and grim - 

lies upon lies upon lies.

Friends, enemies, spies.

Swords, spears, knives.

Funeral (lies)

Life imitates art,

                        inaccurately. 

                 A

central single pallid

           figure,

                   cantilevered

          by the living,

but unequal.

Three oozing batteries

on the bedside table,

relics of a forgotten hobby,

          fans.

Fans of all sizes,

metal wings and buttons,

but no fans in this family.

Opportunistic

and unloving

and dry.

For a life mistakenly lived,

I cry,

and cry,

and cry.

San Rocco.

An orange moon

highlights your figure

silhouetted by fireworks.

Visible in flashes,

colours of the rainbow,

condensed.

A cappuccino

at midnight; 

against the grain.

One day we may meet

through twists 

of a tempestuous fate.

~(17.08.08)~

'sic itur ad astra'

'thus you shall go to the stars' - Virgil.

Red light,

lacrimosa,

a death fit for

a thousand souls.

Leaking heart,

no words impart

how to make

this torn mind

whole.

Tearing strips.

Orange tears in the light blue sky,
broken bubble
where dreams can fly,
summer storm,
summer torn
from your
yearning arms.

Wanderings

Stranger sleeps
next to me
apologises
for disturbing
out of politeness
rather than earnestness.
"I have to go"
(I wish he would,
or shut up, if he could)
but stays some more,
finally ends up on hard stairs,
asleep, alone.

Sibling.

You are my hazel eyes,
a terror,
rollerblade tremor,
a younger selfish me.
You have my last designs,
my sister, teenager,
kind sometimes, I see.
You'll have my way of life,
forecast the future,
and please,
take your time to me.

["Two wrongs don't make a right, but one wrong doesn't either..."]

Grassroots

Grassroots,
mud & boots,
gloves & green.
I've never been
a great escaper,
troubadour failure,
but never fail
to love the trail
beneath my shoes,
sliding home.

Contrary.

A borrower,
the silent kind;
of optimism,
& strength of mind.
Not enough now,
ever enough?
You need to feel
a touch of love untainted, true.
I wish,
for you.

Alchemist.

A mercurial mind,
I wonder, I search, I find,
A drop suspended
in airless
atmosphere,
the creature tended
to the wounds and fear;
assuage my mind,
mercury find.

Waxing Wings

Balance.
Tightrope walk.
Nonchalance.
Human hope.
Failed fallacy,
fall from high,
Icarus taught you
how to fly.

Timelord

Heady chaos,
chaotic heads,
sense of loss,
expected dread.
A lone survivor
one time had been
a true protector
of seen and unseen.

Text

This is a way
to communicate
in our dying
lying
world defibrillate
and with words
unleash a whole host.
Open mouth
and speak
the loudest
or the most.

Blossom

Single petal blossom dancing,
carried by wind & heat.
Rain imminent,
petal falling
to benches concrete.
Surfaces meet
and, inevitable,
single petal window sticks.

Swings.

Falling into infinity
enjoying the ride
dealing in equanimity
&chaos in fair kind
A sentence imparted
forever remains
sign of what's started
whatever entailed.

Learning.

Your lips
in
flate
and your heart
palp
it
ates
your mind is closed
in survival mode
nothing that matters
nothing that stays
you only see
through a heavy haze...

Goodbye.

A state of flux consistent,
days, whole weeks, transient,
and suddenly you've been gone forever,
and your name no longer causes a tremor.
Consistent flux permeates
all our destinies and
all our fates.

News

Choose a question
choose a thought
nothing to it
2000 words short
organise tropes
to say what you mean
close your eyes and hope
it was all it could have been.

Them.

Glitter covers cars,
breath visible,
layers hide scars,
all's feasible
in this land
full of lies,
at the right hand,
she leans, she sighs,
in torment tries
to stand.

Higher echelon
within
your mind,
she touches skin,
creates inside
a melodic song,
wearing thin.

- (20th December 2007) -

Snippets

Snippets,
out of time
a parquet floor or carpet,
colours red, white.
A purple wall,
flickering t.v.,
unfurnished blurs
seen through rain
train window.

See?

Synæsthesia

Bottle it up,
bicarbonate fizz,
plastic cups,
nothing better than this,
pop moments,
sweet tangents,
just like a dream,
seconds of infinity.

'And it rained all night'.

With your black coat,
collar up,a shield from
the dark night
and cold air.
Hands tucked
in pockets deep,
you mutter,
you swear.

Cold feet,
your shoes don't keep
you dry.
Puddles seep
into your soul
forming your own
endless night.

- (9th December 2007) -

Fall.

Collide,
hope to glide,
but hope is not enough,
bumpy ride, but skin is tough,
'gravity and rust',
growth and trust,
a messy blur
- or a blade of grass.

- (5th April 2008) -

Escape.

A stitch in time saves nine
but what will save your mind?
Brisk walk,
no talk,
treasure for me to find.

- (30th March 2008) -

Thin rain.

Starbright, starlight,
starsight by moonlight,
first star I see tonight,
star of debris,
star of smoke,
start of a strange me,
tears before you spoke.

- (28th March 2008) -

Forecast.

Promise of snow,
all glistens, no gold.
Tumultuous hold
you waver, you fold.
Cold ears, numb nose,
you never liked the cold.

- (22nd March 2008) -

Lucky penny.

Pretty houses hard to find
Rennovation
Springtime
Justice league
Smile to please
A penny for a thought.

- (18th March 2008) -

Bear hair.

the first few poems will not match up with when they were written. until we are up to speed, the approximate date of authorship will be included below. in texts, titles don't matter, so the most you will have is an instruction in square brackets. the following is a perfect example of this.



[read in an american accent]

I am a bear
in the snow
in the trees
sans leaves
then I blink
and I see
your skin
the pores
your hair
growing thin.

- (1st March 2008) -