Tagged: poet

clown days

these are clown days which

I didn’t sign a waiver for

the worlds in dispute with itself

so give me a description

or at least paint a picture

you can use your big words

( you won’t be frowned upon )

as we tip toe over the torch beam

in red swoosh Nike’s

she queues up to give a sample

she queues up for the cheap cuts

the 5pm sell off

the empty bus half eaten rumours rolled over tongues

we went uptown we went uptown

to ghost streets and empty windows dust has settled on the mannequins

the clapping stopped almost as soon as it started

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

bats

North. 11.12.13.14. 

Smoky MTN. 15.16.17. Ravine. 

Olympus 18.65N 226.2

esplanades 

bugs  in amber 

some form of cosmic grief

unleashed like Transylvanian bats 

download the app all calls have been re-routed

in his painting the water looked so cold

and so wet 

 the graffiti is illegible and it makes no sense         

 everything points to Orion       there are pyramids under the sea         

there are dead submarines

metal  bellies on the sea bed

I always carry a book

a pen

a bottle opener

a lighter, keys and

a knife 

be prepared 

just in case of emergency 

break glass                           escape 

but all your Boy Scout badges will not  help you now

fight or flight

the reptilian response to human actions 

pink chewing gum stuck on the seats      

do remember your first kiss

where your teeth clashed?

the direction you assumed was north

the sleep was stuck

in the vision thing

dilated with excitement and chemical trails flooded the tributaries and veins that stretch for miles Jack the Ripper threw her entrails over her shoulder

discovered under a sheet of fog

no one slept

unleash the dogs

schedules are mentioned and everything is measured

archaeologists discovered an unknown massacre below the parking lot of your local supermarket confusion under aisle 23

manager required at the checkouts

check all the CCTV for evidence of angels and werewolves

they said they would round up all the usual suspects the radio listed names and you looked in the direction you assumed was north

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

pictures made up of words x 3

  1. Slit dress

The slit in her dress went up to her thigh. She wore scuffed black boots and a backpack that was covered in band patches. She had a tattoo on her ankle that said ACID RAP. She walked past a red phone box. The last one in town.

1989: 10p phone calls to girlfriends

Fingers tasted metallic.

2. 200 year feast

After they landed they butchered the first animal they saw and feasted on it’s meat. 200 years later that day is celebrated by eating a armadillo.

Have you ever seen a blonde haired nun? A bald Rastafarian?

A documentary about a man with three knees.

3. Iron Maiden to the knees

The found photo was of a boy with missing teeth and bleeding gums. In his right hand he held a bunch of keys. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt that came down to his knees. In the background a car was on fire.

His mother, long gone, mane him after her favourite singer.

sour

the spilt milk begins to sour

the cat turns up his nose

the trees creak

under the weight of the birds that perch there and the

trees roots

criss cross like the tube map tourists follow

with their eyes and theirs fingers

from

A to B

an intersection of coloured lines

the flowers will begin to flower

untouched coffee where the body lay

week

Monday: slow, sluggish, a black mark on the week, early, pan of boiling water bubbling, waiting for the egg

three beats off

Tuesday : preparation for after hours committee meetings, bored words, lazy notes, sleep

the mistress awaits

Wednesday: a hill in the valley,

day as median

day as balm

a climb to the summit

the expansive view and the journey downhill

plaster on a child’s scrapped knee

Thursday : the perpetual night before Christmas

always the bridesmaid

Friday: the precipice and the

fade into something, penultimate meeting, a graph, lines,

final preparations for things in the future , a dream of tomorrow tomorrow

tomorrow

pilots

the frozen ground will snap the shovel

there will be no burials today

the gravediggers

tell them

they can stand down

stretch their backs, rest, look at their calloused fingers

this season was no good for florists

and outdoor types

the worlds most expensive stamp was licked and stuck on an envelope

posted to a collector in Wiesbaden

tales of airmen and pilots (disfigured faces from the crash, leather jacket, altitude sickness & frozen feet

spinning dials on the dashboard, propeller & undercarriage)

•the orators

•atrocity exhibit

•C

your Boy Scout badges won’t help now

arrived in the clearing

arrived at the agreed destination covered by shadow

and covered in snow

we are people our parents don’t know

shadows thrown by low hanging vine at the edges of the outskirts of

town

a frayed jean hem once pristine

a tablecloth of heirlooms of porcelain saucers and the chipped rim of a tea cup

handkerchief in hand as you wave goodbye at the station

all those familiar places will be expunged from the map

his fear of warm milk

lactose breasts that slowly drip

a damaged tap with a snapped washer

lost in the delusion of others in the day they shut down the press

when the windscreens of the cars froze over when the frost made the pavement sparkle like diamonds

when little children’s fingers drew patterns on misty glass

we await the thaw

when the ice melts the city weeps

your arm full of Boy Scout badges won’t help you now

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

submarine

I want to replace her eyes with petals and satellites

and in this submarine where we lay

with all the world above us

the sonar sends us to sleep

the weather vane is stationary

everything is motionless and will only move when I give the command

her sugary insides are alive

and safe in there place

today a body of miracles and muscles

reading this will not improve your life

all the car lines up

going nowhere fast

all the colours

reds and blues

green silver and black

dented doors and all the registration plates are codes

I can’t decipher

this morning

has been going on for a week

( he had a mantra

rule one was “WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN” )

some join the dots to make beautiful constellations

some join the dots only to end up with a bloody mess of

childlike scribbles

I’m somewhere in between

someone is stealing my data

and all the FOR SALE signs are closing in

blocking out the sun

in the light

my shadow is twice as long as it is in the dark

simian space

after the crucifixion

ashes

the sun is a force to be reckoned with

today

I feel gravity pulling me

back to the city

where I emerged on a day reminiscent of today

the air con is relentless

goosebumps on skin

a blind man would think

I was made of Braille

rock paper scissor stone

eeny meeny miny mo

and in this new old town everyone is wearing Lycra and they’re running around and around

it’s relentless

sweating small beads

the new have replaced the old

the unwanted & the poor are squeezed out like the last dregs in a toothpaste tube

( last night I heard a song that made me cry

he is floating down a river in Chang Mai )

earlier today I found out that Einstürzende Neubauten meant “Collapsing New Buildings”

I thought about architecture

empty shopping malls

leisure centres with swimming pools and wave machines

in my dream last night I couldn’t move

I was trapped in a house full of pianos dust laid heavy on the keys in my sleep I could feel my body twitch

stale bread left for the pidgeon to peak