Saturday, 29 March 2014

Undulated Dew

as deep as an ocean,
seems to end our spring song too soon
until soft warmth
off your roscid lips
and sends ripples across the room.

Wild Dance

Whistling winds whip away at withered leaves
coercing them to sway and dance
into an invisible ballet,
like a stringless ventriloquist.
Airy and wispy, the strength amazes me
and I feel myself pulled
by nothing
towards nowhere
but on and on
and I wonder what allows
such a boisterous wraith
to wreak havoc on the elderly residents.
Angry turbulence and resentful gusts
I fight against on all vectors
trotting on myopic as a mule
saddled in dignity.
I ignore the dancing leaves
and pierce through the medium
like an arrow through flesh
and I continue through the contiguous solution,
heeding none of its warnings
of an immensity unseen
and far too visible,
and march on triumphant
only to be left dancing in the current
along side the foliage
I once ignored,
and hated.

Monday, 24 March 2014

Sawdust on the Wire

Here it is, that feeling.
Starting at the centre of my sternum,
where I keep store my solemn secrets.
The same scene floods back.

Starting at the centre of my sternum
and, working their way up to my brain,
the same scene floods back;
sawdust on the wire.

Working their way up to my brain,
the new pills soon take effect.
Sawdust on the wire
dissolves in the synapse.

The new pills soon take effect.
Here it is. That feeling
dissolves in the synapse,
where I keep store my solemn secrets.


Nobody realises how much they piss
until they aim into a pint glass
and now all that I'm left staring at
is another sentimental spillage
that my body's cell can't sustain.

Saturday, 8 March 2014

The Final Stretch

A variegated verdure of tendril-like veins
vesuviate their stillatitious sudor.
Sweat sweeps down sinew strengthened trunks
with each strident stride; with each replanting of the roots,
engraving an ephemeral power
against the pot-holed pavement.

Natures' tempest, with its own truculent power, contends each giant step—
torrid torrents transfluent to the fluent pounding.

Yet each droplet,
each beat,
each step

until the spirited spurt of a storm with home in its sight
reaches the final
S        T        R         E         T         C        H.