Tagged: sketch

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

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?

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.

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

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