scrap (January 2011)

When you became mortal in my eyes we truly became friends
Your vulnerabilities and limitations jumped out at me and kissed me on the mouth
You’re not the only one saying ‘why so serious? You’re still young’
But talking maturity is a young mans game
The heaviness hasn’t yet settled on these shoulders
So what can I do but conjure it
And do my best to listen inside you

moving in (summer 2010)

you said the hairs on my arms were fluffy
and abhorred my limited taste in bedclothes
But on that bed they made sense and so did you
In my garish 3 stripe jacket
Facing back to front
Your arms outstretched, eyes intent, reading Henry Rollins
(You bent the cover back and I felt small for minding)
Your pure prescence
Natural, easy, impulsive
Took us onto Hampstead Heath in the late night rain
There were four, but I had eyes and ears for one alone
The next afternoon in Soho
You disappear with your boyfriend
Young and curious
In a fashion I can't remember ever knowing
And I feel tired and anachronistic, though mostly tired

Wood Green (November 2010)

Wood Green is Alive
If I know nothing else
I know this
As the people swarm under Saurday twilight
Queasy street lamps leak anaemic orange
buses line up and toddlers run
between their mothers legs
amidst the shopping bags

Wood Green is hungry
Driven
Pulsing
Never pretty
Its hunger charges me through the seat
Energy running
Rushing
Streets are awake now
Wood Green is Alive
Alive to the couples, the rubbish in the gutter,
To the sirens, the shopping shrines and the cinema
Waiting for the moon to rise


When the Vacuous Neon Glares
In tourist ridden squares
There is a Wood Green shaped hole in the heart
In the stomach
In the memory
Brown Eagles perch
No pigeons
Wood Green is free

scrap (December 2010)

This isn’t born knowledge
You have to cultivate it
Im bound to
Its not about paper but that’s a tool to trace it
Blood for blood
Mixed up interrelated
The past and the future live in the present
That’s the basics the bare bones the fundamentals
Drunken master and asetics warring for the temple
The dervish whirls and the pious man sits
But is there to catch me when I sleep
I step too far and just trip
So I’m falling clutching at straws
Nauseous in a crowd rushing for the doors
So much noise could be cusses or applause
I crave silence
Just now I lusted more
The hunger for more put the grind in m jaw
Now outlined with a beard that makes my features obscure
Stole the holy water and drank it
Im filthy and pure
Excommunicated Excavating the raw
Uncut long untouched
As yet unspoilt truth
That energises like the suns rush
Walk with me
That takes some trust
Im scared of the succubus who could end my world with just one touch
Not dumb
Still seen men lose it all to a dumb rut
Or a thousand dumb drinks
Certain people of mine I look in their eye and just sink
All I see is a busted flush
Opportunity spent
Never saw the gaps in the rink and kept skating
Red face never facing up to responsibility
Stuck to juvenile ideals boxed in by invisible walls they never bust through
Im trying to evade that fate and talk truths to touch you
No crown is rustproof