Grit & Things That Sound Like Drills and Sandpaper

Forward

The click clack
of the railway track
is a sound I soon expect to hear.

It’s going to be fine.

I’m sorry to make
white lies
from time to time.

It’s only to sweeten my taste.
To make me glow in your eyes.

Lies don’t make me a liar.
Lies keep you here.
My future lies with you;
I want to lie with you
and look to a new civilisation

as King and Queen
(Our monarchy)

and forget the atoms

of a past
that need not

have happened 

Irrational fear that spiders are in my shoes

Trapped

Suck the electric shock
Don’t stop
You could build an empire within me
For a brief moment
Before Richter measures death quakes.

I wait
With the weight
Of your waist
On mine.

I have to disgrace myself
In order to keep face
And stop the hesitation
That keeps me trapped under 
Myself

An Evening With Pink Floyd, Separated By Distance and the Atlantic (an old poem)

The Wall. 
Is there anybody out there?
A massive hole in the world.
A wall of water and air and
empty space.

The arms are swinging at me and
wrapping around me
too tightly.

All I can do is twist helplessly
as the waves stay firmly
in their place.
Pangaea
had the right idea.

A14 to the Afterlife

Somewhere down a long,
grey purgatory road
we went off the map.
Confused concern from
an apathetic sat nav.

I think we died.
Although outside
everything resides as normal:
collapsed McDonald’s sign;
drizzle on grey streets;
war in the Middle East.

There was no pain, but I
think we died.
Because outside the
restricted reality 
of the purgatory road,
a painted ocean
has just overflowed,
and has been set in motion.

Despite no mortal injury
or twisted metal,
in that car
on that grey road

we died

and melted into each other’s

quiet whiteness.

The Consistent Delight

Have I always been that one of a kind

-hearted fellow human being
who understands not the feeling of

entry
and exit

but of empathy with others
and intensity for one?

I will clap my hands,
and my arms will surround you
in the dim sweaty heat of a crowd;

but my hands want not to wander,
and I want not to surround you
in the dim sweaty heat of your bed.

Our bodies were built with brightness;
Designed for delight.
So dance. 

I look you in the face:
At the crazed glaze
oozing exuberance
in your gaze.

I find God. 

Atlantic

A poem that I wrote for Sarah just after she left for America. She didn’t like it.

Not a day goes by that my body doesn’t ache for you;
A stolen child screams futility,
Screeches at barriers too thick to comprehend,
Too thick to break through;
Around me.

The world is dying around us, so many insist
That it’s pointless to continue. 
Giant structures will fall to the ground.
But I will rebuild; on my shoulders hold them
Around you.

The Day We All Had Wings

The entire human race
Woke up one day with wings.
There was no need for cars
or buses, or planes because They
could do all sorts of things -

Mankind stared itself in the face
and said:

“We don’t need these synthetic things -
these cogs and sprockets and springs
have all been a waste of time!”

And for once Man felt alive.
Out of high windows he dived,
And soared higher then he could
ever have dreamed - so high!

But soon He noticed that this incredible gift
was a leech on the health service.

People would fall from tall ledges -
They would hit their heads and break their legs.

So with that in mind, Man decided
to turn on his engines,
and began the Slow Choke once again.

Newborn babies were wing-clipped at birth,
and Man rejected His wondrous gift
from His body and Mother Earth.

“We are the human race,” they said,
“We don’t have time for mistakes.” 

Highku

Look at that sad blank
Tragedy behind those black
Dilated pupils

Reunion (Les Chiens)

When I see you,
I’ll remember the sticky sweat on your skin;
The smooth after-shower sensation,
Silent sentiments
That never needed to be verbalised

When I see you soon,
I’ll enter that inner realm once again -
The dogs barking and whining at me,
Violent sentiments
That I can’t stop being actualised.

Kicking

and screaming