April 2012
10 posts
2 tags
4 tags
I Am Deluded
all those hints are there beneath the crust
a complete set of clues to suss out
but these lack of words feel like a ruse or just
a new way to discuss doubt
without alluding to those ambiguous
and quiet refusals to speak out loud
but it could come out of the blue
into the the thought process of wanderlust
but i wonder can we even adjust
when compromise provides a time to revise
those age...
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Gurlll
it will never happen
this time or ever more
only but to try again
will end just like before
friends are only friends
but you are something more
speak to me and i will listen
you make it hard to ignore
the messages you send
are sometimes pained and sore
you cant put me on the mend
to shoot me up and score
i was driven round the bend
the engine made a roar
all outside did blur and...
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Joandlords House
smoke came out into the room
like milk into tea
in thick muscular white but the smell
was pine and soap
when it touched the ceiling it met it
as if it were two football teams shaking hands
the room was a mess
so was i a mess
i came and went and took on age
and dropped myself back into a kind of youth
every other couple of seconds
and in the laziness of the air and the
unknown...
3 tags
Chopin and Bang
i cycled my bike away from
the busy street full of bags
and buggies and umbrellas
with music in my head thudding
from a half broken mp3 player
no brakes and handlebar loose
as spaghetti i tried
to get around people
off the path and on again
when i hit a curb
the back wheel exploded
i had to leave the bike locked
against a tree by the canal
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thursday
it felt a bit different today
i sat by the window where the hot light came in
onto my back while
listening to qawaali and the sound
like a fast lava lamp
soaring melting mixing falling down
wordless messages that say more
than i often do to myself in off peak times
for the rest of the day was different
i could strum anything and it would
make a good chord
the world at calm concert...
3 tags
colourschanges and aesthetics in benign minutes
the curling hot sweetness of some imagined palm tree lined
pavement softly grey as a cushion
a couch to sit upon alongside
the canal bursting into skittles
making little noises groaning by
regardless of raindrops seeping
through to an unknown green ground
or an eternity of a wet colour shoulder
in debauched worries and hopes
happen as if time doesnt care or give
a frame to anything you...
3 tags
