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Oh my god;
That same old, tired old
Fetish

Is it really now boring to me?
For how many years has its juices fuelled my ill-conceived fantasies?


Am I about to look back now
On this,
As the
Sick desires Of a child
Outgrown now and replaced
By more maturely aged flesh?

I don't want to let it go...!
But such is life
In its most wonderful of faces

Time to let it go
 
Standing ankle-deep in the cold iridescent foam of this singular morning, the vast blue day rolls towards me on the surface, away from me underneath. Each morning, this hesitation, then the courage to run and dive. I have never been afraid of the waves, it is the undertow that I fear.
 
This heart it aches
this soul awakes
everyday to stay another
nothing here to see
ive been alone forever
erased without hindsight is me
 
"Love"

the most amazing human emotion
leads to mucus and wine,
and drugs
and falling to the floor, self-enveloping
yourself with hate
and the constant need to prematurely die.

choking on salty tears
like some sick fucking dog
in the corner of a room
destroying yourself
the universe becoming you,

you, everything...

and then you take it away;

like ripping the fabric of space,


gone.


how can something so fragile

become so fucking violent?
 
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Now I lay,
in the dungeons
of the damned,
I know that I
found the
magnificent,
realised it
was flawed, dirty,
not at all grand,
I threw it back
into the pond
and wept.
 
Lead clouds bear down above clamorous thunder echoes between ringing ears,
freezing human warmth in sunless apostacy.

Bouqet of damp earth wafting from a rain filled glass toasting the westerly wind
tilted back head sipping angel tears,
washing away past and future in tired ripples of stale ecstacy.

Pitter-patter consciousness beating endlessly
on corrogated thought ceilings rusted from the tears of youth's lost spring.

Fragmnets of dreams tracked on the floor by muddy shoes just trying to make a living,
falling in a puddle that reflected their untied laces.

Yearning for hot-chocolate benediction from the steel-eyed cat sitting behind inviolable residential window pane, but settling for the soap box aphorisms of a bone soaked dog in vagabond alleyways.

Red glowing lonely night wrapping ominously around empty wine jug,
while tremorous dread chills continue unabated by charity-minded Salvation Army blanket.

Cold oblivion at last seeping up through cracks in the subconscious,
ego battlements relinquished gratefully pending siege by 4AM night terrors
and subsequent resurrection by hard bread sopped in glorious Campbell's cream of mercy soup.
 
Very cool poem Never Knows Best! I particularly liked this line:

Never Knows Best said:
Fragmnets of dreams tracked on the floor by muddy shoes just trying to make a living,
falling in a puddle that reflected their untied laces.
Click to expand...

Struck a chord in me for some reason :)

Here's a poem I wrote pretty recently:

Today I will take a ride inside of this orange and blue balloon,
Oh God, today I am flying,
Today, I know how to think
Watch me, walking on the brink
of where the grasping, oceanic hands
Give and pull and Take, and take

I’ve only got so much time before this coalescent zephyr,
This race...

They’ll make this feeling corporate, those fiends,
They’ll bottle this brain,
They’ll stain it
They’ll drain it
I will buy it,
And call it the new caffeine

In the end I am loosed above the Earth,
And my parachutes a noose.
Today I watched the sun set and rise as one,
Today faking lost it’s fun

Lemme know what you think!
 
Sunglassed, tanned- I pace the green. Heaven shone glory till trees as big as mountains came. Sprouts, these oaks and pines etc, some dangling fruit and each smile. Invite wandering men to enjoy their colors and feed on their labored tastes. Ladder up, I work my feet till the orange is within reach and comes tilting at the angle of will, offering its body to me in fullness. I grab at it and ellipses reverse and the thundering starts; now all I desire retreats in coldness. Rushing patterns off and away - fragile markings in my mind splinter and throb. Lush pictures of a longing glow. Memories of a love poking fun, again.
 
Holy holy all is holy. The band would not shun me if I were to sell my records to fund some nasty habit; they would shun the habit. Not even! They would cast the habit into higher arms and take me with loving dance into forests. They look, I suppose, for the snake in the dirt and blow kisses at its shedding and enjoy the openings between mammoth trees. They'd toss bodies wide in the woods their castle and make love near the sound of living water. They would take me and tell me not to fear this and that, but to know not to interfere with such and such. They know about places and order and salivate and widen eyes when they see wings. Growth and circles fascinate them as they burrow themselves in psalms and proverbs, and yell like boys into the diaspora- the fleshed busyness of the city germ. They would celebrate a locust take flight and flow tears at season's change- but before long they would celebrate the turning too and so would, in fullness, cry and laugh. Loving bards let feed upon the motion of planets. Loving men wear the burdens and organic jewels of the free and sensual, they who roam.
 
Clouds

Outcast epiphanies, leaving their
shoes at the door, while
I dribble endless, lies to
myself,
Negative is the framework, that
holds it all in place,
The pain of the future,
lies not far over the fence,
Cry though you want to laugh,
This is the final minute
to prosper in solace, and
garbage.

Ash. <3
 
You smile with a heart of gold
And with emotions,
Evenly tested
So true.

This bottle
My sunshine
This narcotic
My savior

I dare wonder;
Why aren't
My skies blue?
 
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I stare At the lamp
As it flickers And it dies
And alone In the dark
I am frightened And I hide

Because I see All these people
Who now crowd around My bed
I hear All these noises
And they aren't from My own head

And I Panic With my eyes wide
So I reach down For my stick
Which is hard, Which has weight
Which can smash their Evil feet

Till the light flicks back On again
And my vision, It adjusts
To a room Full of nothing
But bad memories And black dust.
 
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The rain hits architecture
The city, no absorption,
Only drainage down gutters.
We nurture on sterile floors.
No more nutrients, we eat our waste.
What’s good governance?
Performance? Efficiency?
Post-coffee diarrhoea?
Boarding a train, bodies with bowels
Who shit too.
Who wants money?
The silent everyone.
Swarm the doorways, swarm the hallways
Walk your crazed lines, zig zag
Your way back to the start.
Do it again. Write me a report.
Watch the news cycle, the psychotic,
The same root cause veiled differently.
The green man blinks, you cross the street
One foot in front of the other,
Marching.
No one meets, destinations differ.
Your feet ache
Within
Shoes Made in China.
 
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Nice Pk.

Ode to Graffiti

Night time, black sky
Black hoodie, black eye
Searching through the darkness.

The odd car headlights;
Waiting until they pass.

Check the surroundings.

Is that a person?
No, a lampost.

Are those footsteps?
No, just the breeze
Ruffling through the trees.

Click, clack, there's my marker -
Reach in the pocket,
One last look around.

Face to face with the target.
Make sure i'm not going over anyone.
Paint, meet wall.

The sound of marker,
Paint spraying, the smell, the intensity
I hear a car coming.

My hand moves a little faster.

It's getting closer.
It rounds the corner.

Underline, full stop -
Done.

Marker in pocket.

Mince away like any other
Late night drunk stumbling home

Graffiti.

I love you.
I hate you.
Don't ever change.
 
Ode to graffiti?

What the fuck was I thinking?

-------------------------------------


I suppose it's not unusual,
The affinity for alcohols ability
To untie the tongue of the most
Reclusive loner and neurotic:

To get him to open up his heart to
A world
Which otherwise would not care

His conviction he is drunk
Spurs his conviction he is right
And vice versa

Until he wakes up
Head hurting

And he waits
Until he feels little foolishness
In picking up the bottle once again.
 
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public payphone silence
was left in the dark vault
of midnight between two
tall buildings, the wind
whistling coldly,
your sculpture exploding
in this vast nothing.
your ending meant a beginning
but the bottom had to be
felt to be believed,
there had to be that realism;
theory never satisfied you
and you swum deeper and deeper
into that infinite experience.
but your body, your lungs
had no more capacity;
you can't escape the body I said to you-
your mind is fucking stuck there.
a perpetual mental holocaust
was what you were running away from
and the lab coats injected
scientific truth into your mythic
being, as though nightmares
could be easily erased,
never truly understanding
the mind of someone
so close to the truth.
 
First time posting in this section of the forums (doesn't work on my phone unless I put it on full version browser).

Untitled:

I miss the way you make me feel
The way your kiss made me warm
I miss holding you close in the cold
Your breath in the back of my throat
You were my life line, my guardian
I still miss your scent in the air
The goddess of my life
I still long for you
But I know that would be the death of me
I will never forget the times we had
Curled up in my bed with you in my hand
I can't go back to your love
I never cheated but you left me broken and torn
I will always love you for the way you made me feel
But you crossed the line and broke our deal
 
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