Monthly Archives: May 2020

Watch the blinding light as theatre

Those movements in shimmer and
Flicker and the glow like plot rolled
Into actor and spread across the eye
Shut eyes too tired to turn away or
While blinking scorch a hole through
This play this life this appreciation
Of light too bold in its purpose but
It’s warm still warm in the dark feel
Light that you cannot see hear light
And the burning be a part of some
Madness or illumination there is a
Fear of the dark not unwelcoming but
Invisible the base fear of unknown
And this is how some stare at the sun
Into blindness to try and see beauty

I know the end will come which

Makes a mess of my soul’s
Bedroom all littered with bottles
And half-filled condoms bleeding out
Lying on the stained carpet this heart
Crying or staring at the ceiling wide
Empty sight of understanding
Mortality does strange things to a mind

And acceptance the slow process of
Cleaning the room and the sound of glass
Smashing glass in the bin the cold
Or encrusted feel of these
Some industrial carpet cleaner
And a comfortable night’s sleep before
The shops open again

You might want me in a bar sometime

And that’s okay I think that’s good
I can see us discussing strategy who
Will go to the toilet first we wouldn’t
Go together and we’d linger awkwardly
Or if no-one was there hold close and
Kissing push into a cubicle and untying
The door opens and we wait but in each
Other’s eyes smiling edging lips closer
Drifting hands we hear this person peeing
And hold eachother and when they leave
I go down on my knees for you on the
Wet but back at the bar if I’m not
Horny enough when you ask don’t be
All melancholy I’ll just have another
Drink and under the table start feeling
How I should for you and in the end
We can play like this unashamed for
Our fun and not worried about babies.

The feeding of the instinct in the eye

And in the hand the adrenaline need
Meanwhile seated and curled some
Clicks in bones some sores the ache
Of the eye meanwhile backward this
Head focus gone or stayed sleepless
Such a casual feed apparently easy
Stressless except on the emaciating
Body these games these hands this
Warped mind desperate is one of
Many possible ends that in the false
World can be lived by the dying
Hope to sleep in order to wake and
The brain goes on past exhausted
Forearms wrists fingers broken brain
Goes on past the body the two selves
Split for the sake of a pyrrhic dream

The long sounds of the night

Are the sleeping world as it settles 
A humming light socket or creaking 
Shoulders of wooden chairs the wind 
Roaring beyond draughty window panes 
And sudden paw shuffling of the dog 
Dreaming below the bed or the shifting 
Of legs beneath these sheets the shift  
Of the iron bed with its metal wheeze 
And a flash of wind catches and draws 
The blinds and dances around corners 
A spirit has entered the animals turn 
At the thing and it’s gone all over about 
The room as the blinds still click and a 
Few drops touch the glass perhaps the 
Plants will be fed tonight the wind quiet 
For now and by my knees the cat curls up. 


Standing on the pebbles in the dark is

Being washed by the spirit water the
Mild ocean spray and the sound of this
Ceaseless movement that covers
In the night all is quiet around you and
No-one to worry about or watch swim
In the cold and if the spell was going to
Break you would hear them coming alone
On the pebbles behind you against the
Tide so here away from the lights at your
Back you can be at peace and let the spirit
Water clean out the dark puddles of your
Mind you forgot to think about earlier
As you stare off into the folds of life
Washing themselves and smoothing rocks
And grinding sand that gets stuck in your
Crack on other less stony kinds of beach.

He’s a lovely lad but my advice remains

Forget him and find someone else easier
And smoother I think but much less desirable
Easier easy is good I think life is short and
Love is long etc ah love easy don’t fall in love
Easy though love is hard falling in love is
Easy you wanna love easy and fall in love
Hard and not for long a wank is a way out
Of feeling and meditation is this pent up lust
Only helps you enjoy the torment of longing
This guy Charles Bukowski is a genius I’d
Love him but he’s dead and he wouldn’t want
My love he’s dead comes first though coz if
I sucked him hard and drunk enough he
Might want me before the end cums