Wednesday, 17 August 2016

I Miss

I miss
the subtle rise and fall
of your back as you
inhale                      —                      exhale;
your lungs gently cradling
the oxygen that lulls
you to sleep.

I miss
being able to tuck your tangles
of hair behind your ears
my 'tips                      —                      touching;
gliding gently down your spine
then returning
to your skull.

I miss
the strand of stringed saliva
that slowly dances
from lips                                            to cheek;
as your open mouth
and your tight eyes
paint you in peace.

I miss
the confusion on your face
as your exhalation wakes
your dream                      —                      huh;
as you groggily ask
what has happened and
I giggle.

I miss
your sleepy protests as
the banshee alarm
blares                      —                      alerts;
it demands for us to greet
a new day and you demand
five more minutes.

I miss
the subconscious roll
towards my icy side of the bed
arms stretched                      —                      grasping;
pulling me closer as your
half-alert lips curl
into a contented smile.


The thrill when
wandering the streets
in the dark
and passing another,
a walking shadow,
in total silence—
both thinking the same thought.
Lost in the solitude
of a lawless and loveless

Merry Mess

A damp explosion
     blots to the bottom.
             Peeling erosion;
                     rancid and rotten.
            Daudling it drips;
     crusty and creased.
The page it dies—
                                                        the words

Dog at the Theatre (A Variance of Light)

Has there been a change in light
or have I just noticed your flaws?
The rays that break through the blinds
expose the state of your paws.

The clouds have opened like curtains
with the first act set to start.
The tale to put your tail between your leg
and I hope it's only the curtains set to part.

There's a wound you keep on licking
and put on display with pride.
I too have an ailment
but one that I'd rather hide.

Yet all you know is to whine and cry
not telling me what is wrong.
I try to second guess the story
from the tone of your song.

So I ask you to lie in your bed,
my voice stern yet with tact.
I calmly caress the crevice of your skull
and prepare you for the final act.

Monday, 1 August 2016

Compiled Details

As knowledge piles up in the brain
like a catalogue of sand
I wonder how it can conjure up
the meaningfulness of it all.
So many books, so many articles,
videos of album reviews lauded as classics
and the crawling through the criterion list.
Shapes noticed in marble tiles while
waiting in hospitals
and magazines in dentist offices.
Where does it all congregate and dance
and reconcile itself.
Surely not beneath the skull alone;
deeper in space it meets and gains
There the matrices of experience and memory
and data sit at the table and indulge
in the same bitter stimulant
and laugh about it all
and here is significance gained?
The question itself is laughed away
as an interstellar breeze grazes the skin
of our star-spangled astral bodies
in the café of Jung's darkest abstraction.

Tree Cover Lover's Delight

Have you ever listened to nature?
Not sat in silence, daydreaming.
Not walking through, admiring.
Not distracted by handheld technology.
I mean really listened attentively.
It strikes me how harmonic it is,
the rise and fall; the unison and the grace.
Carefully planned out and ordered yet wildly unpredictable.
People worry about getting lost.
About straying too far from the path and finding themselves
somewhere where they are unfamiliar.
They are already lost; so far gone along
the path of bright lights
that the yhave forgotten where they want to go.

Nature and I have a meeting room
where we can converse uninterrupted.
She is compassionate to my industrial
and smogginess of mechaincal mind
and so I am careful to do my part
to ensure she doesnt befall the same fate.

I met her this week but I turned up late.