Monthly Archives: April 2020

Just sitting and writing at the table because

My desk has too many books on it and other
Shit and suddenly there’s a knock at the door
I pretend I’m not in I want to write I want
There’s banging at the door and it gets loud
In my head and so I’m getting up to go to the
Door and there’s a tap on the window I think
Oh no it’s the pigeons fucking again I look
Over while on the way to the door and see
Nothing go over further to investigate there’s
A banging on the floor I’m not playing any
Music today maybe there’s a leak in the toilet
Again I check the bathroom and there’s this
Door noise again perhaps the banging on the
Floor was really at the door I open it oh you
Forgot your keys again fine okay do I want
A beer sure I want a beer I pop the beer in the
Kitchen we’re drinking and chatting behind
Me the laptop screen goes into power save
The beers on the table the caps underneath
My toes massaging the serrated edges my hand
Thru the carpet we’re watching a film now
I look over at my laptop I drag myself up
Stare at the screen a moment walk back to the
Kitchen for more beer drinking lying down
Drinking lying down drinking lying down
Apparently people struggle to do that without
Feeling like drowning not me though

Twelfth Night Live and Online

There’s a love beyond a fuck that lasts
And a fuck beyond love too short they
Meet constantly like in a cheap Shake-
spearian comedy mistaken and struck
By tragedy but still living and awaiting
True recognition these siblings these
Comrades these necessary parts of one
All mixed and split in our lives so ruined
This too often unhappy tumbling a pain
In the repetition a sublime join in the
Resolution so long lost and trampled

You can fuck or be fucked and enjoy it
But not love eachother, and you can love
Forever without fucking, you can love
Deeper than sex, I wouldn’t necessarily
Recommend it but it is possible and the
Problem is we mix them up, someone
Thinks sex is love, someone thinks love
Is sex, people lose lust and go off fucking
And get crushed by their own still virgin
Love and the jealousy and then people
Having affairs think they’re in love just
Because they’re in bed together and all this
Fucking confusion, you need to know
What you’re doing you need to accept
How you feel you can fuck right and love
Right but it won’t always be both, and it
Won’t always be either and you have to
Have the sense to know and know that
Reality will keep on being itself regardless
Of what you want from it and that is just
How the fuck it goes.

You’ve got some jam on your lip and

I don’t say
You’re making me new to your eyes
They could be yellow if I could look
Above the floor your bright shoes
And you gave me your ‘slut dress’ so that I could
At home in the quiet I jut my hips and
Massage my lips
With clay and
Wandering fingers edge my tips and
Because you believed me without being told
You didn’t slip under me or over me
I miss that slick prick
Pushing through skin
Dredging up thick weaves
The sinful sighs
Come again
Solicited and moaning
And I’m silent about my dress
And he’s laughing and smoking
And I’m sucking

Looking at myself in the mirror tonight

Wearing my dad’s robe and pink knickers
We used to call all robes dressing gowns
But if I say I’m wearing my dad’s dressing
Gown you won’t quite get it the burgundy
And navy striped flannel not the silk I
Bought for myself and not the hospital
Gown they wrapped him in so I look in
The hallway mirror and the pink panties
And the robe and I’m wearing Christmas
Socks and there’s something about this
Homeliness and memory in the robe is
Like he’s hugging me and I stop wondering
If maybe I should move the mirror away.

Sir Harry Wotton

To God, I’m Ill

You’re the universe but that’s just pain in me now
Crying on the couch loveless and miserable sick
I need a drop of Christ’s weepings or something
It’s not a matter for hospital beds and hypodermics
An ear of David’s seed to suck and chew so you
Can drown me out of the world Christ son bought
With his life and that’s still not good enough for you.
Get off your arse you fat fuck, prove you’re the God
Of love and not a Satan in universal robes. I’m ill
Because of you. It hurts.

Queen B

Stars have nothing on your eyes except numbers
And more than two would be weird kinky
You’re the bee that brings in the spring humming
Over birds with their cheap autotune your bass
Vibrating the flowers into pollination neither
Violets or roses or any other kind of colour
Beats your black and yellow back your arse
Wobbles the best dance eclipses those virgin
Queens and hovering over me I pull on your sharp
Stinger to feed.

The sun comes up earlier now

And most of my daylight hours
The wireless box flashes non-responsive
I’m losing my sleep and dream
And wandering time there’s not
Enough dark in the moonlight to
Hide the world from my eyes
Illuminate the ravings of a heady
Projectionist flashing unrealities in
The quiet black in the room lit by
A laptop screen but the dawn is so
Perfectly restful and again beauty
The way the orange rises with blood
Light blue above like a tidal wash
Like a facemask the shadowed buildings
Somehow reassuring silhouetted
I suppose I can learn to daydream
In sunglasses and lying on deserted
Beaches home is a coastal getaway.

The rush of blood as deepest tidal waves

Roll in just to pull away sun drenched
Beaches sucking up stones and sand glass
The regret of the beach washed is the regret
Of an emptied vessel the way the tide turns
Lingering a moment just to say
Drags and pitiful and limp the dropping
Heart the sunken pride perhaps with this
Dribbling of sea water it is sometimes the
Hardest thing softened by the waves
Need and knowing the way it will die
In your throat and on the tip of your
Where the sea meets the sand
The heat of its moment will be cooled
And slip away.

It’s not always like this

Lying on that sofa basking in
Appreciation and when will it
Stop what do you need to keep
This warm what if you can’t your
Brain goes in to shock when you
Realise you’re going to die

But there are other things too
That don’t last and then come again
And then don’t last and then you
Remember Ryan Gosling in this film
Perving on his student but also
Saying that history is a spiral and

People make mistakes and don’t
Forget to feed the cat and liking
Marx doesn’t make you an Orwellian
State and he stops perving on his
Student because human connection
Isn’t the same as sex even though
We say what we say and do

You think about life, you think about
Death but it’s not always like this
When you’re good, when you’re bad
It’s not always like this, when you
Lust after a dog dick in your mouth
It’s not always like this and they have
Barbs anyway so shut up you freak

What are you like but it’s not always
Good to play with people either
You have to be honest and lie you have
To be quiet when you shout you have to
Believe cynically in hope ah because
It’s not always like this

I look death in the eye sometimes
I panic sometimes I calm down
Sometimes it’s nice even this is
Being human you live which is
Change you die is change it is
Like this.

The blue and green bulbs have gone out

On the Christmas lights around the mantle
Now all the room is red but that comes out
As comfortable low harmless the red lights
Are mostly rose like my flower is rolls of
Skin and pressing the look into writing the
Scent of pollen from stamen the dark walls
Become this canvas again become a wandering
Finger the cotton is hugging tight I close
My eyes and embrace on the cushions

It seems there will never be too many times
Lying listing to Feng Suave rubbing against
Fake velvet red light it seems there will
Always be lengths to occupy the empty places
In the tired morning where only the shining
Screen keeps me from dreaming sweetness
The need to bloodshot eyes the surrender
The numbing blue light I thought had gone

I put on my headphones like ear muffs and wait

For the quiet buzz leg moving shifting chair creaking
Like a metronome that fails every thirteenth beat
Gin trickling down my gullet feels like its behind the
Heart and my throat is rocks limestone warm knees
Under the robe warm knee under knee aching finger
Spiderweb headaches snot dribbling at the back of
The throat itchy cut unabrow cheekbone sniffling
Scalp crawling ear pulse and tickle and burning eyes
Waiting for the line that I lost watching a film and
Drinking gin and tonic gin and tonic.