Monday, 11 October 2010


It’s a powerful and scary place
Rough Men down below excavate the old and set the foundation
For more growths alongside us.
More steel and glass to encase distant neighbours
More flat carpet space between islands
To give this inertia a sense of purpose we cut figures of poise and containment
Runway lights on our ceiling make me want to take off arms spread wide
Chest bared to the arrow and the hailstones
I’m hoping to hit flesh and stick
Fresh, presentable, slick shoes a week off next polish
I’ve tried to sanitise this inspiration
But I want to be wet, sweaty and exhausted
Panting in giddy glee with you
And if that doesn’t sound attractive what can I do?
This clean sanity is so damn boring
I can’t sleep and in these late nights
I go travelling, fantasies run wild
Don’t want to live life like a widower by a graveside
So I’m bursting through this window to touch the fresh air
Clutching at rising wildflowers
Tasting the sickness of the city and feeling it lift
As the wind lifts me and takes me beyond
Above over and out into the Ocean above where lights pierces but never wounds and Darkness falls in shades making us beautiful
Spectrum washing over us to illuminate what lies beneath our skin
Symmetry in synergy like iron rich desert sands shifting physically
Colour Changing instantly
It’s a reaction and an anticipation
A powerful provocation
More than just a craving
It’s Boukman inciting Haitians to burn plantations
It’s a Chemical, Physical, Biological Fascination
Alive in my imagination and becoming flesh with every breath infectious with every step growing larger stronger bolder every little loving liberation growing larger stronger bolder every single act or thought or message pure growing larger stronger bolder larger, stronger bolder, than the power, larger stronger bolder than the fear larger stronger bolder than limitation we stand tall we see we hear we know we understand
This is what we have to hold to cherish to make our own and we’ll never let it slip slide, drift, let it go, never, as the waterless waves blow and unseen hands stitch our lives together now and these stories are told we can’t see the seams just feel the folds ripple along our smooth surfaces caressing those sore patches... good wine to a thirsty throat.

Tuesday, 5 October 2010

(Untitled)1-4th October

Buddha Heads and Pot Plants

Inhabit this space

Spot-lit stage where no performance will pass

Shadows fall

And hope rises

Grace exists in the stillness of

A Poet in the land of nobody

When the night draws down its curtain

Over this bare window

Nothing changes

The cryptic questions we never answer

But don’t stop trying to

Paralyse me now

Force my hand and shade my tomorrow

Slumps and highs

Push me to push on a red door in a quiet street

After red bus journey to you

On the way here I

Saw the old man from the bookshop

Scuttling under the streetlamps

He walked quicker once he heard my footsteps

The fear evident in his voice when he acknowledged my greeting

In the dark fledging friendships vanish

And we yearn for safe arms length anonymity

This Sunday has been atypical

I played dominoes in a bowling alley and retired on a winning streak

I cooked simple food slowly and enjoyed it alone

With the rain drumming along

And then it came back to me

We’re asking for something more but

The requested operation requires elevation

In surplus city we’re all skating

On ice that gets thinner with every passing day

Even as the temperature drops

And the rain drops

And the pound drops

And the Bass drops

And the shells drop

And the bodies drop

And the penny drops

Into the gory gutter

And the stench rises

And the smoke rises

And the high rises

And the flats rise

Into the plane streaked sky

But fall short of greatness

Cement Ceilings on the hopes of generations

Black hoods for the voiceless

Shielding them from the cold world they’re facing

On suspended walkways to nowhere

Looking for the perfect angle for the run up to the moment where their wings emerge and they hit the evening breeze in flight

Beyond the grey walls and neon bars

Further than every man with a price

Past the low horizon of this empire
There’s more
Past the low horizon of this empire
There’s more
Past the low horizon of this empire
There’s so much more