All The Same

All The Same

I forget the kindness of the man,

like the scar trailing down my back. 

Still, I find the face I want for him,

dipped in tar, desires of black.

I conjure my inner amorist,

roused by a tender gaze.

His blood is cold and barren,

mine, his, all the same.

I recall the strangers who’ve met me,

residing in the nights undefined.

I am caught in the shadow of others,

the dark bell chime, toll a lifeline.

I mute my inner companion,

sleepy; he never came.

His flesh is cool and clammy,

mine, his, all the same.

I conjure my inner amorist,

roused by a tender gaze.

The bell toll, cold and barren,

a poor reminder of my fate.

Desperado

Desperado

This is the season to feel full.

The sky falls at once upon a time;

where paths unfurl like pieces of twine.

I follow the crumbs along the ground,

a road where twine has never unwound.

Dirty lust poured out of my mouth.

I was primal, I was vacant inside.

And he was planted in bad judgment!

He sprouted, spoiled, my guilt was wide.

I’m a victim of desire’s tether,

a criminal, some desperado.

In my vision, that black fire weather,
those animals, sad desperadoes.

Paki play play again?

Paki play no!

Paki say say again?

Paki say no!

When I see it outside,

the tall mountain overlooking,

all my luck and my troubles

fog the view of everything.

But she had a nice song, darling!

Wasn’t she the mother to our James?

And wasn’t it just like that, darling,

how she melted into flesh and names?

Mummy play play again?

Mummy play no!

Mummy stay stay again? 

Mummy stay no!

Poetry from 2013

07/10/13

Here are five poems that I wrote from January – June 2013. The themes include politics, love, intimacy, denial, growing up and relationships.

Bait

The east and west debate.


The plight caused by Mother

will see you used as bait,

from one to the other.

To get out of this state,

to get out of this cell,

the fires burden your fate,

burning brighter than Hell.

The east and west, sedate.


Don’t forget your brother!

You are bait for the state,

by the faults of Mother.

To get you out this late,

to break out of this shell,

each sight and sound of hate,

burn them brighter than Hell.

Greece

I see the child in you

We were baking in the sun

Hot stone and a deity

One gaze of the star

You wrapped over me

As the shadows were growing

On that freezing night

You carved marks in my belly

Nimble as monkeys

I wove you new skin

Could you throw me an arrow

I, of the unknown


Transience looms heavy

We, smoothened by the rough

Scoop up the honeycomb

Think muscles and bones

Could you hold all the pebbles

Extracting from blood

I return to sunlight

But you must stay young

Refractory

Deep in the refractory,

you were thick as a forest

and wet as the dew

that collects on the tip

of the few who lie gentle.

So, gentle are the few

made wetter by the dew

from the same mouth fueling fires.

Yet, sodden is the skin

but deeper lies the sin

drawn from the well of desires.

Deep in the refractory,

grew the fields and the meadows

and green was the blood

that collects on the tip

of the mud caking on my grin.

Those glances spinning gold

though our lives are growing old,

recall that same comfort at midnight.

You were open as the petals,

flower stretch around the metal

that fence, those barbs, that might.

Self-Cognition

The simple cares of a woman

with love deep as the bones.

It’s something to remember

as she slips you off her toes.




You wish for the thick sleep,

though you will never return

to that vacuum whence you came

with the mumbling hums inside.

You were baking in the oven

long, long before you knew

all that space between the bosoms

and those sour teats you’d reject.

You woke up at midnight,

with hot piss on your sheets

and the quiet of the house.

Not one woman on your mind.

As your time here slips away,

you wasted precious seconds.

Every time you dream, alone,

never a woman on your mind.

Sadly, you’ll always remember swimming in the lake,

such rich, deep darkness lurking in the waters.

Sadly, you’ll always remember the stains of the knuckles

and the teeth from the mouth that should have swallowed.

Son

I carry my son against me

Clutched, close, bosom

I feel his heart beating

Loved, life, throbbing

I’ve kept some time for him

Allocated hours of the day

I’ve kept some time for him

I love the hours of the day

Keep an eye on

Leave it open

Keep an eye on

My son, I carry against me

Bosom, clutched, close

His heart, I feel beating

Throbbing, life, loved

I’ve kept some time for him

Allocated hours of the day

I’ve kept some time for him

All of the hours of the day

Keep an eye on

Leave it open

Keep an eye on

Somerfield

07/10/13

Here are two poems that I wrote in May 2013. They explore some of my experiences as a child at my (old) family home over the course of my life. The poems are very much connected, tangled by the vines and roots of the back garden. A part of me is still tangled there too, caught in my childhood and refusing to accept the present. The inevitability of change is sometimes too overwhelming.

Q&A

Please excuse me as I mourn

the trees felled by my mother.

Meanwhile the grass is torn

by the absence of my brother.

My family is a flower garden

whose existence is long forgotten.

I’m a glass bottle with a cork in,

that set sail across the ocean.

My family is a flower garden,

though the beds are bare and barren.

All those who have remained there

wilted in lonely pairings.

Please excuse me as I mourn them,

my overturned, spoiled blossoms.

The very seed of my forebears

dried up, died over the years.

I remember ma on the mountain,

a quick quake exhumed the earth.

All the layers caught underneath her;

were black dirt spoiling the turf.

The chain’s choking, chain-smoking

in the land of the third eye.

The just joking, just toking

in the land of the dead and dry.

Some bridges will lead you over

to where trees and flowers grow tall.

Since the present’s held over a candle

leave the memory on the wall.

Since the future’s an elm’s shadow

leave the old candle in the hall.

Since the future’s an elm’s shadow,

you’ll be the best of them all.

Well, the beans are scattered everywhere,

sprouting the stalk of an eerie dream.

It was I, baptized by nature,

that somehow slipped out in between.

Please excuse me as I mourn

the trees felled by my mother.

Meanwhile my heart is torn

by the absence of my brother.

Will I walk the length of the bridge,

or will I stand where my feet burn?

Will I hold my book to a candle,

or will the pages be willed to turn?

Cold

When the vines arched over us,

and the plums stained our toes,

I heard the swelling inside you

as we lay in the earth.

You were a mother that day,

though all the children had strayed.

But now whenever I lay,

I hear a cold, grey voice say:

“Two, but never three,”

my grandmother to me.

“Two,” though I’d’ve three.

My grandmother let me.

All your hunger pains grew,

into a tumour or two.

I heard the empty house cry,

and saw the fish pond turn dry.

The very source of your love,

was where you placed me above.

Warmest womb of them all,

I hear a cold, grey voice call:

“Two, but never three,”

my grandmother to me.

“Two,” though I’d’ve three;

my grandmother let me.

The first shock like a quake;

still we tremor and shake.

Sometimes a loss can’t be just,

but in that grey voice I trust:

“Two, but never three,”

my grandmother to me.

“Two,” though I’d’ve three;

my grandmother let me.

“Two, but never three,”

alternate memory.

“Two,” though I’d’ve three;

did my grandmother see?

Poetry from 2012 (Part 2)

04/10/13

Here are eleven poems I wrote from July – December 2012. The themes here address negative relationships, failed relationships, failed dating, denial, emotional fantasies, politics, symbolic death, war, nostalgia and wishful thinking.

Anjuline

Was born in ‘73

No divine plan for thee

Never had a fighting chance

All that’s left will never last

Rose was the colour inside

That black, yet, blue thy eyes

Thou opened a book one day

Could not turn the page

Two thousand miles away

Walking upon the coast

Two thousand miles away

Life open like a road

No hope for thy plight

Life living, life of white

Hearing nothing unfold

The closing beyond the road

Two thousand miles away

Walking upon the coast

Two thousand miles away

Life open like a road

Can’t Come Here

“That queer boy can’t come here!”

The devil within him will try to break you in

The sheer sin on his skin is more than enough

He’ll drench you and drown you at once

“That queer boy can’t come here!”

The institution will help him

The institution will help him

That queer boy of rose street

A life without goodness, without pureness

The fire, he boils in the pits of our gut

We will, we must burn him at once

That queer boy of rose street

Pass him the labour of love

Let them burn in the fire

Let them burn in the fire

Let them burn in the fire

Let us burn him at once

Cream Dream

Ocean cream

Licking my ankles

Shallow wading on a Friday night

Wake the next morn

Floating

Motion dream

Licking my elbows

Wallow in the dusk’s dead light

Shake the snow globe

Floating

It pulls me deeper

Prodding with its bill

The nostrils opening

The heaven, the light

Did You Hear?

I drew a line in the sand.

Did you hear about England?

There’s the rain and the winter

of the wars deep in my memory.


I closed my eyes tonight.

Did you hear about America?

It’s a revolution!

He’s as white as he is black.

Humankind from a distance;

homicidal injustice at best.

But the race must be won!

How do I sleep on that?

I turned off the radio,

though I heard of Libya.

So, now I’m out of range.

I’ve no feelings at this stage.

Turned off the television.

My time is gaining on me.

If there are Gods above,

leave me be in the next life.

Dinner

When she came up for dinner,

we had words, and our tongues

were curling, twirling, swirling

up and down, all around.

In that light, she was thinner,

and lines ran deep in her face.

Bones were cracking, clacking, lacking

that old flame of our day.

With a broken wrist, I shook her away.

With a lively twist, she ran, ran away.

With a bitter wit, I swore her away.

With a mouthful, she spat me away.

Into the open air, I reflect.

Recall of time, I introspect.

These memories wear thin as her figure.

These memories of mine do not trigger...anything.

When she came up for dinner,

her eyes were sad as a sinner’s.

In that light, she was thinner.

Ten years, not one winner.

I’ve no care, no change to spare.

This new year’s without you, dear.

This new year, this new pair,

these old flairs, these old fears,

I’ve no care, no change to spare.

Not one tear, no weight to bear.

Lovelornless

When the wind comes

Let it dry up the love

Only once could I give you

Only once, my love

Now that it’s all done

Lover, let it be

This life is forgiving

This world is enough

In the river, we drift astray

All the currents pull me away

When I untie the rope between us

You sink; my past, my anchor

Though I break the surface

The fresh air reminds me

The sun will dry up the world

As you dried up mine

You will never surface

My love won’t see daylight

The sun will dry up the world

As you dried up mine

In the river, we drift astray

All the currents pull me away

When I untie the rope between us

You sink, my past, my anchor

My veins untangle from you

The blood can flow again

One day the riverbed

Will swallow you up

One day the riverbed

Will swallow you up

Lovely Bird

One morning with my lovely bird,

in her mouth I placed a stone.

I said, “swallow, swallow, swallow!”

‘Twas the burden of her tongue.

When lovely bird was not looking,

my hand pierced her hollow nest.

I made ribbons of her feathers

‘til her babies couldn’t hatch.

Below the canopy, she lay,

with no sweet songs left to sing.

Couldn’t spread her precious plumes,

her plight of flight was my delight.

Disappeared in the greenery,

the bird never did return.

With no clutch, no flock, no flight,

I said, “swallow, swallow, swallow!”

With no love, no life, no luck,

she did swallow, swallow, swallow.

With no life, no life, no life,

I said, “swallow, swallow, swallow!”

Thirty years and five months later,

there, lying on my doorstep,

head on the left, plumes to the right,

my lovely bird was back again.

Maria

Please, Maria.

Your Prince, he beckons you back.

Might you travel to his land

and love him in the night?

Your Prince; untie his hair and

unfurl your garment all the way,

then spread yourself like open light.

Let him love you.

Allow Him this fate.

Our dear Maria.

This old battle continues

as sky and wind do not break

the silence between Prince and you.

By the parchment of the King,

unfurl your skin and blood and

untie his hair...undo, undo.

North Carolina

In North Carolina

I met your eyes

That fur on the skin

Growing on us again

The sky’s rotation

Is the same everywhere

I open my eyes

While yours are in rest

Is it the same world?

Is love the same word?

In North Carolina

I found your eyes

That fur on the skin

Stuck to me, you grin

The sky’s rotation

Is the same everywhere

I open my eyes

I open my eyes

Is it the same world?

Is love the same word?

Is love the same?

On The Hour

“We remember the times

now far far far away.

Our memories

from long long long ago.”

I want some smoke in the living room

where the paintings are all stained.

It’s this necessary aging

we all must undergo.

On the hour he will enter.

I want Whiskey on a Wednesday,

some LSD on the hour.

It’s this necessary filling;

the gaps we must forget.

I’ll remove his glasses and mine.

I want to bite on a cigar

whereon lips have not remained.

It’s this necessary sadness

we will all remember.

All will lay atop my nose.

I want music in the kitchen,

and a lover to dance with me.

Allow the smoke to blind me,

let the floorboards give way.

I will stare in wonder.

I want friction from a beard,

to be tickled by the lip.

It’s this necessary routine

I adopted from lost time.

All of me on the hour.

Voyage

The life I had, the man I was...

I voyage through the time I’ve lost.

One black moon in the open sky;

no more light in this world of mine.

Those years ago, beneath the sun

our brother’s loved and lived as one.

The land was blessed and all was pure.

I search this realm, soon search no more.

The air twisted, twisted around me.

I was surrounded by His army.

Although my past did keep me newer,

I heard He was like the Führer.

The life I had, the man I was...

my world avenged at little cost.

The man I am, and by my knife,

will draw His mercy, draw from His life.