Tagged: part truth

lockdown diary 555

I see it

all the boys with their isolation haircuts

some look like they’ve been scalped by a trapper looking for fur in the Appalachians

the 30,000 deaths I can’t count on a 100 hands

but at least love island has been cancelled

Swings and roundabout

vicissitudes

go outside

swim in a pond

go and buy a hydrangea

keep the Aspidistra flying

Callum can’t wait for a cheeky Nando’s with the boys when this all blows over

I miss the sight of grown men shopping for tracksuits as fashion items

your mild alcoholism

a bloated liver

channel hopping between disasters overseen by fucking clowns

call the helpline if you’re effected by any of this

the numbers Klondike 555

milky ovaries

after two days in the trench I put my head over the parapet and they clean shot the cigarette straight from my lips

mud and grime

drying to cement

in my head

I returned home at night my wife said I’d changed

I was beginning to fade

to a grey facsimile of the person she fell in love with

— drained and washed of colour

a slow death in verdant Albion

full of lottery winners and knife victims

I still hadn’t written that novel

or made it to the edge of the continent

and in this new landscape

it was so easy to get lost like the blind tourist who feels his way around the world

finds his way back home by following the smell of cinnamon

the roar of traffic won’t put him off

the Doppler wail of the red fire engine moves around him

easy

like flowing water

milky ovaries and we smoked autumn leaves in those days that failed to appear on a calendar

and the lunch time barber found a secret door in the back of my head

unlocked and looking in

he advised me of what he saw

500 families, forgotten memories and posters of David Bowie

star crossed lovers

a couple

man and woman

could be brother and sister

or star struck lovers

on a train platform of moving feet & pidgeons

announcements announcing delays

through the crowd

I swear I saw

the ghost of a dead friend

eating bread &

sucking on a straw

feet and eyes

to the floor and a quick cough confirmed the plague had arrived

blood snot

on white

blood phlegm

rattles in throats

rich people are hoarding the antidote

the poor will eat tuna from cans

out of tune radios will cackle

disembodied voices

a body without a head

somewhere in the hinterland where the pipes creak and drip with

polluted water

people eat rats and pick their teeth with bones

but before all this

we were happy

when you get confused due to crossed signals

that author

the one you mentioned

you said his book would change my life

it never did

and I can’t remember his name

maybe I should try a vegan diet?

maybe I should trust the stars?

maybe I should try acupuncture and pierce my skin?

meditate in the morning to the sound of whales

we touched finger tips

we held hands

we walked out into the lake

shoulder deep

like babies wading to salvation

baptised

together

there was 20 minutes before you left

for you

there was 15 minutes

left

for us

and I hope you’ve decompressed?

and I hope that we slaughtered the elephants in the room?

blood risk and ivory

weighed against the cost of gold

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

(the space between

her nose and mouth)

in car park bay 157

near where we stepped over the fence we passed the place where

transgressions

could be recorded

and used against

us in a court of law

⁃ how hard can this really be?

the king of candlesticks died in his sleep

on top of the Empire State

(and we knew the bullets wouldn’t hit us)

his shirt

resembled

the wallpaper

in your childhood home

spinning tops on floors

that time when you brother trapped his fingers

between the door

swelling communist red

and all the while I’m waiting for this phone to beep the suspense is killing me

what is the distance now

the distance between

those mementoes of shanty towns

and those souvenirs

the battle against the meridian

the fight against time

phonebox

in the future

they will think the phone boxes were monoliths

pieces of ancient technology where the people of the past

communicated with the gods

but now they stand neglected and mute

that scene in Papillon

primitive WiFi slows down connection to a crawl

dropped out midway through conversations about obsolete technology

people in a group all talking about what they’ve seen on the internet

kid falling over

dogs dressed as ninjas

Hitler cats

Beef-burger garnishes

there was nothing of substance there was nowt that was real

that scene in Papillon when the screen turns upside down and he says YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE scared the shit out of me

in time the spaceman will discover the monolith

wet waterfall Lazarus

see cries wet water falls from the holes that can see

there was a second of grace

as they grew

the tress

grew

in the news

they said the millionaire died in a hotel room where the carpet wasnt clean and the mini bar was empty

and the bible was unread

nowadays everyone has an opinion

I’m waiting for the electronic malfunction

when the computers refuse to compute

I drive away in a second hand car

I’ve changed since the photo was taken

I’ve gone to far

on the side of the road

stinging nettles stand next to their antidote

Icarus was was burnt and hit the ground

Lazarus went the opposite way round