Monthly Archives: February 2016

Nuclear Winter

a poem by

Anorexic faces like
Frozen tulips
Have adorned the security cameras
Of my shop windows
White hair floats around like age
Melting
Hardening
On our times
Where people view winter as change
As any change will do
Turn on the television
There’s no light in this room
And soak up the radiation
In this land of cold fish
Kisses

Words huddled together
On a whispering white wall
Infusing images of space as the
Dimension never known
Disinterested, all of you lie
Bedraggled
On these nascent hills of ask
Before they miscarry
And there you lie
Flies on an infected river
Blessings by way of seedless children
You gift to the earth
Which accepts
With the mute politeness of a host
It’s the child of the desiccated world
Which releases this tepid warning
And the sound of a child
Screaming is but the
Echo of screaming hooves

Life

a poem by

And the farmyard faints dying for
All pain being old
All localised
When seen through Gryphon sighs
Dark cries
Shrilled
Permanence with fever
And if all time is a sign of
How hard we want to push
Ourselves
Recognition stillborn from visibility
Here on our way to our marketplace
All sound quietens you

What happens to the waterfront
I thought that maybe you forgot that all
Strangeness is degrees of
Self-possession
Globes of truth
Being fulfilled
Through trust
Shunted through the doors of sleep
Exhaustive days spent
Through our beautiful
Sadness
Where winds are denizens
That cringe before us
Osmosis sucking on
The future’s brains
And evil begs
To be carried on your back
All languidity is cloying
Through its languor
I smell the foretaste of the sunrise

Birthday Diaries

a poem by

Dead men as clothes
Death in beasts
Young men as clothes
Clothes as feasts
Where I have been
The smoke-stenched smell
Will continue to haunt the
Afternoon of fire
As an awakening life
Fire as my pretension
Eating at my heat
Reality is
One shape to another
Abstraction
The Ariel pledge
Dreams engendering dreams
By then you had learnt
And of all the talk of equanimity
Within freedom

I chose
Analysis
Paralysis
Never the condiment
Souped amongst the remains
Selfishness is a concubine
Amongst your thoughts
Swallowing up the
Strangest of virtues
King among men
Strangest of all violences
Jettisoned against a sea of people
A sea of mouths
Scared to the point of extinction
I float protected by my birthday
Wincing at the collective mastication
Through a definite sense of caution
Borne through a sense of
Over-reaching

Faustus and God

a poem by

The angel died upon strange leaves
Voices arrogant
Stretches on skin
Dark trenches onto light
Give the oath upon the knife
Noise demands a certain respect
Chieftain littleness never wins
Protochrist was the only one that ever lived
Danced only in fire where mountain-grass
Smells of danger marathoning in footsteps
Heat as my subject
Cousin alienated from cousin
Screaming laughter
As we approached a wet water god
Shooting

Matrices

a poem by

These are the days when your place
Is watched in a half-matrix
By all those that burn you in themselves
Strength lies in the
Broken grounds of intersection
Between sanity and existence
I cry out the same works
On the same grounds
And all I want is words
No foetal memories remain
Life will be my crucifix
The seriousness of old men is a laugh
It’s the permanence of their breath
That grows inside of you
Looking for regeneration
We were all old men once
Yet I never looked at you in totality
And sat inveterate

And the oldest messages are sonar
When the sun comes out
I will spit at sententiousness
Through time I’ve fought mediality
Structure
Reminding me of emptier days
Clinging on to roads
Burning time off paths
Burning paths of time
My love doesn’t respect me
Because I tease it with words
Prometheus the putrefied
In this labyrinth of blind clairvoyants
I am your home
So many of them will sing to me
Warmth decanted into the ethos
Before we accept god as eugenicist
There’s little to be learned with these
Truths until we construct our own matrices.

The New Year Comes

a poem by

It’s been a night of release
For many years I’ve been waiting
And yet time stays still
As I look into his hand
All the waters have spurned their dreaminess
And yet the tip of my tongue dries
As my thirst acquires a body of it’s own
My own
If only to own
For many years I’ve been watching myself
If everyone else is a mirror
Then I will dance
For you
For me

But if you stare
As you stare
Then I will cry
For you
For me
It is always only me who remembers
The new year cold
The drunken cold
The wretchedness of celebration
The singularity of isolation
The new year stands
The house breathes again
Welcoming back the strangers
It’s not such a good thing to breathe he says
And contract your face only when it is dark
And it’s always dark when the new year comes
And the world expected to turn
I wish I were older
Not with the greed of a child
Refugee in his savagery
This year I have decided
Not to hunt the changeling

Certainly someone

a poem by

Very few swords have been left
Off the grinding mill
I will talk to dispose all the energy
That you helped build inside of me
Rape is the absolution
To own the unknown
The spectral to the feared
Are tied in sacred hands
Hands that break their own hold
Nobody can ever tame
That which is not true
And no one is defeated
Unless
They have lost to themselves
And for those that have lost:
Emptiness is filled only with emptiness
I die with expectation

If all words are living lies
To keep the glass over the dulled flame
Then why incubate me in this feral manner
Where even dreams come as questions
Every time I look outside
We realise how much we had to be shunned
Certainly you must think the way I do is the
Last milestone
To loneliness

Solipsism

a poem by

Is it right to be unloved
When you don’t love
Holding on to static
And static things
Laughing at a heart in isolation
And the heart laughs back at itself
And dies
And I have lost
Movement becomes harder
When I can’t see myself
And I can’t see myself if
I can’t reach myself
And I shiver before you
Prostituting
And you grin
I can hold the world no longer

Stacked

a poem by

Inspirations don’t die
When there’s no difference what you listen to
For time is continuum
They just get lighter till we can’t catch them
We may lose our humanity
I promise I’ll be sad when I’m rich
And they always turn and run
In the lost halls
While I watch them
My heart rises universally
Ripping itself into stars
Descending upon them as silver collyrium,
Now they exist

Death

a poem by

Die I must
But not alone
For the moon will
Steal me into her marble eyes
And through her umbilical cord
I will learn things that made me forget
The truth that I carried on myself
That strained my back
And I never touched
For it felt like electricity tearing open
The earth
And I never felt
For feeling is like a bad spirit
And I never thought
For thought is like a candle
Embedded in my flesh
And I could only speak
And speak I did
But sorrow is like a forest fire
Atop this island
And the smell of white roses is so much sweeter
Death is a hummingbird I keep in my cage
Pitiful
It’s time for me to ride into tomorrow
For die I must

The Song

a poem by

I gaze at my feet in the water
And you play on the other side
The music brushing against our faces
Almost like a messenger
Soon it will be evening
And the fields will dry of last night’s rain
The wet lamps will be lit, dripping
And we’ll stare at each other smiling
Only children in this village are we
The rest have gone to the city
And you and I remain
Blushing at the
Songs innocence

Death is lighter than life

a poem by

Death is lighter than life
Bound in the matrix
Of life’s miseries
Tear-heavy eyes
Mirror everyday shackles

An aching fragile mind
Buried under shadows of despair
Joins the stream of history
And pines for the other world
In its effort to silence life

Tired lifeless winds fall silent
A quiet calm descends
With the approaching darkness
The solitary candle-flame
Destined to die
Flickers bright one last time.

Neither body nor mind
Not even the soul
Wince under the weight
Of lifelessness
For, death is lighter than life.

Into the Next

a poem by

Into the night
The footfall springs
Picking brains from the fields of sound
If we let them grow
Temples of snow covered trees
Descension
Rubbish burnt for warmth
There’s always an old man waiting by his life
Lives are a space shielded by the resemblance
Self-worth
Here or there
Dead wood
Looking down at insanity
While sipping from the mugs of ugliness
Enthused by the downslide.