Ode To You

give merriment and give joy,
silky contours that trace the light
delicately curved, ready to hand.

the centerpiece of the social,
the years have waited for this;
liquid enriched, bring walls down.

a figure of cheeried times,
afterwards reside in life renewed
waxed stalk burn, satisfied brand.

a simple significance,
light reflect in corner stood
your own society, vicarious to ours.

Zemblem

Wake up from this dream:
stuck down space bar keys
and childhood songs in head,
frantically looping.

Clocks tick by in silence,
filling rooms with purpose
that drives us forward,
answers not yet found.

Turning blades bring power,
igniting bulbs inside,
bringing wisdom to task,
keeping country's form.

Flashing images haunt
the heart's desire,
kept unwrapped, silenced;
never accordingly used.

If glass were to smash,
would it ever be known
by eyes unseeing,
or heart unfeeling?

Fond reverie remains,
by all maintained, and
empty gazes are met
by the purveyors of

zemblanity.

Empty Verse

here in vain, standing in rain
here in jest, revered at best
here in lies, a truth I cry
here in now, keep me proud.

never am gone, speak strong
never falter, keep it for
never guessing, keep asking
never trusted, concience fled.

i always ask, questions pass
i daren't dream, mind stays clean
i lose myself, heart of stealth
i forth weary, eyes are bleary.

love is here? never i feel
love is false, simply a choice
love is changing, identity misfitting
love is bleeding, take my leaving.

Shutterblinds

Shutterblinds close,
And I can't see you.
Hidden and unheld beneath.

Darkened smoke,
All that captures my eye.
Painted radiators glisten.

Hold your breath,
Let silence penetrate.
Leave behind now, shout and glare.

Pull away now,
Leave me be at peace.
Solitary pleasure now wanted.

Last Moments

Stare out of that window and listen to stupid songs while I try and tell you why things might be alright.  Sat on my bed with the same shitty music in loop down low while the rain spatters off the window, the light casting thin shadows over the wooden floor.  The heat of the day has passed and the cool of night is drawing in, blue skies clouded over and now all there is is grey.

I sit tentatively behind you, wanting to put a hand on your shoulder but i feel you recoil from just the thought passing through my head, as if you can tell what i'm thinking.  But somehow you still don't hear the thoughts that rush through my head whenever you're around.  The quickest of flashes sets off a rush of different memories, like a kid who hangs on the bars of a roundabout that has been spun with all his might before jumping on,
his fingers gripped so hard, but the force is simply too much and he can feel himself slipping away.  Fear rises in his stomach and through his throat, as if he's going to be violently sick, but the thrill of it all is what doesn't stop him. 

But you don't sense any of that.

The pitter patter and the soft beat are all that keep us together.  The distance between us is more than just a few fingerlengths and I can feel you moving away with every second that ticks past.  Your head is turned away but I can still feel your eyes on me, although I know they gaze out the window and that you are actually far away from here.  Thoughts elsewhere, caught up in the non-present, in a different situation and a different mood, a different time, a different place and a different you.  I wonder if you're thinking about me, about us and what we could have been.  if it had been different for us and if we hadn't gotten to this place here, in this room, sitting alone with each other on my bed.  I hope that you do, but I feel like I'm in the presence of death.

The empty longing for something that has passed, the void inside and the colour has drained from everything around, the sound has muted and the world has detatched itself from you.  The things that you once saw are gone, the little things that made you smile and feel connected, ripped away and now things of misery and dark.  Happiness is so bleak now.

I place a hand near your side and already it feels wrong.  So awkward and confused and I feel a pain through my stomach, as if something is pulling me from the inside out.  My head is confused and I feel all the energy coming from out of me as I use it all to will you to see me, here beside you.  To see me as you once did, to just turn round and understand again.  For everything to be as one and for the colour, the sound and the warmth
come back to me.  Only you can do this and as I watch you, I feel it all slipping away.

I let out a quiet sigh.  Not from frustration, as words like that feel like I'm blaming you.  I'm not here to place blame, I'm here to tell you, to make you understand.  Why can't you understand?  Maybe if we just sat here for the rest of time then it wouldn't matter.  Time almost stands still right now, so maybe we could be stuck here forever anyway.  The world wouldn't notice if just the two of us slipped off together to be in our own little world.  Nothing to get caught up in, nothing to distract, only the two of us frozen in time.

I want to put my arm round you, to pull you close and to whisper in your ear.  To take hold of your body and pull it close to me, and to take these covers of mine and hide us from the world.  We can still have our own blue skies hidden under the sheets and we can pretend there are no grey skies now, or there will be ever again.  The sun can always shine for us, if only you let me show you.

I would make you a queen and I would worship at your navel, kiss you tenderly and delicately brush your skin with my tongue and with my fingertips.  Slowly breathe onto you all the soul that I have, yours to keep and treasure and to do with what you will completely.  I hold that picture in my mind, you like a statue that I can keep with me, and i fear now that it is all i will be left with.

The sun is disappearing and the room becomes dimmer.  It feels like the air has become stagnant and bitter, it no longer wants to be here either.  My arm aches but I dare not move it, to break the moment or the silence.  I know the second that I do that everything will be over, like a signal for the end and that will be all we ever have together.  That I'll never see your face again and the few minutes afterwards I will sit and watch the bed where
you sat slowly lose the shape of you and turn back into nothingness.  Just another piece of cloth which hangs onto even more meaninglessness.

But you don't even wait for it.  Something has happened, the air has been unsettled and it awakens you from your dream of elsewhere.  Or maybe you just decided that it was time to rejoin the rest of the world, your world, the world where things are different and I'm no longer part of.  I feel under the numbness inside me a tearing feeling that rips through my whole body, the pain is almost immense already.  I dare not think what it would
be like without this numb feeling.  You move to get up and almost like a jolt my arm reaches out to grab you.  You barely turn your head and mumble something that I can't quite catch before you move away and my arm drops beside where you just were.  I look down and watch your shape slowly start to disappear as you walk away, each step further like a molecule shifting.  I can't bare to lift my head and look.

My mouth is desperate to open and say a thousand things, my whole body stings and is unable, breath sticks in my throat and all I can do is tremble.  I watch the shape and the shadow from outside that is coming for it, to take it away and to join me in solitude.  To taunt me, to hurt me.  To be my only friend and companion, the only thing that is left for me in this world and to take the shreds that are left of me and envelop me whole until there is possibly nothing left to leave me with.

There is a thump of a door closing and I am truly alone.  My hand is stroking where you have been and I slowly count the touches that I have left before it disappears.  I close my eyes.  The music has stopped.  In the distance, I can hear the traffic and somewhere there is a bird singing.  These things would have brought me comfort, but now all they bring is sorrow.  The song is not one of happiness, it is a solitary cry into the evening sky.  I hear
stuttering breath and the sound of material being touched.  And then everything stops.

A quiet click, and then the music starts to play again.

Start Again

Another hot and sweltered white light night.

Ideas stifled like the air that clamours.

Thoughts and the world are silent together.

Dreams overtake and leave solitary confinement.

Eyes and ears hold out intently and wait.

Nothing passes or speaks and patience is only left to wain.

Tiredness doesn't always mean sleep, only leaving.

Remained restless exhaustion, cracked covered serendipity.

Nights used to be filled with unruled thoughts and dreams.

Now an only friend has gone, no understanding is left here.

In a shrinking space, every soul has gone.

Drowning in dreams and the journey towards tomorrow.

Trapped in today as it fades, stuck between the two and exhasparated.

Random images pass and fleet, memories of yesterday.

Childhood and climbing trees, tightly wound roundabouts and playgrounds of the free.

Secret clubhouses and the top of the world, forests of secrets for intrepid souls.

Lazy days under marshmallowed skies, then and now.

Ultimately the prettiest things converge into indecipherable mess.

Never yet learned to untangle, to grab the fly on the fence, nor to understand.

The walking asleep and the unaccepted shrunk downs.

Future dreams that remain in the past.

Every moment unrealised waiting for discovery and elusive enlightenment.

Down in the basement, the gutter and the mud.

Heads are tilted upwards to castles in the sky.

Night Work

these are the building blues,

punk purples and the raving reds

that pulsate the beat, 

through aqueous break smoke glides

the surface, spilling out

the all-dancing, drinking, drug-fuelled

high tops and roll ups.

optics amplify and beats equalize,

sonic cartwheels burn,

a travelling beat train 

of instruments, driving progression,

halcyon haze leads clamour and

glamour through concrete arteries,

sweat and smoke, catcalls and yells.

garage tab pick up, black cab drop

to approaching crecendo and euphoric

rapture, intoxication ceaseless,

something worthy to believe in,

one night only and tonight, 

the visionaries are cued to play,

the children's song drums out.

Passing Time

Look inside
Those cracked glass frames,
Full of water stained meaning
Through moonful glare, playful words.

Fast asleep,
The others play away in carnivals,
Run for miles amongst elongated blades
With hiding messages toy, still born fancy.

Placed palms
Grasp for more uncertainty,
Numbers slide through blackened sand.
Exchanges thrown, playtime's over, and time for home.

Insipid idylls
Stained alongside yesterday's photos,
That only 'retro' cameras can make
Nostalga's young dreamers have fallen away from this.

What's Left Behind

dirty bowls 

strewn on

letters unopened, insides untold

with crumbs on matresses

and sheets 

discarded

artifacts left untouched

glisten on sheets

black where celestial

bodies would above 

travel

faint ceilings with whisper,

heed rasping angels

breezing song call past

exposed limbs, blood 

colden

shadows of apparitions, 

an overexposed negative,

the photonic residue strains

an echo that 

penetrates

wind chimes playful and

cloudbroken, sun shimmers

hope in between eyes closed that

are missing the warm breath beside.

Mythonies

Waves of sound strung up, wrestled and tangled
Tendrils rising out, distressed and grasping
Oncoming traffic driving forward, colliding
High top balloons crashing, ripping through air to the ground.

Light fluctuating, sharp and distilled
Shoot through dialated passages, never unseen
Caught and trapped travelling messages
Streaming golden roads outward.

Clench palms with fists of fury
Bound with coloured string, suspended stacks
Inside negative whites that take up room,
this space is not empty, cluttered only.

Headshaped blurs, over sensed realities
filling to the brim with misunderstood focus,
Noises of crescending drums and crashing symbols'
Senseless ramble, glass to the wall and the fly uncaptured.

Red check that block on black
Pukka Pads on which scattered ideas are spent,
like woken from dreams of love and loss, of anger and loathing,
and of empty wanks left lost behind.