Anyway, another month has gone by, so here's another tranche of my old stuff, sorry, there are a few bits and pieces in the works, but seeing as how random my head & life seem to be these days, I can only ask you to bear with me, oh, and share, if you can....especially in writing groups and stuff. You never know, when my Mojo does fully return, and I get chance to concentrate on more contemporary pieces....well, nothing, but one lives in hope...
Look.
I try to tell you, want
to tell you,
Don't need to use
spoken words,
Sometimes a look is
enough.
(Canon 760D with an ancient 2nd hand 80mm lens, with an extension tube....frustrating experience, but worth it to see the pollen captured falling from the lily.....)
Love Canal.
My rusted, dented,
bented, bi-cycle,
Awkward in my clammy
grip,
Has some kind of silly
relevance,
As it rests against my
hip.
Standing here on the
old brick bridge,
I feel let down by my
bike,
I turn and look back at
Love Canal,
Where we both did what
we like.
Looking back at old
bedsteads,
Old frames, trolleys
and the lovers' walk,
Brings no insight to
the female mind,
Nor to the double-dutch
they talk.
I'd throw this push
bike off this sad bridge,
If I thought it'd do
any good,
But instead I walk it
home,
And think of you in
mud.
Looking back at Love
Canal from home,
Is an exercise for a
virgin's mind,
So, instead I let my
thoughts wander,
You'd be surprised at
what they find.
#lovewhereilive
Love Poem.
Love is a hunter
Hungry and fierce
Hidden behind loaded
words
Vain speeches
And eyes, in darkness
Blinded
Love is a terrible rage
A blight, and a drug
An awkward moment to
adjust
To be leaned on, and to
lean
Hunger for the hunted
The vibrant colour of
life
The moments uncounted
Between touch and the
glance
Glancing blow to the
head
And heart
The race, the chase
The eyes, the face
The body that fits
The silent madness and
peril
Temptor and fallen
Love is the hunter
And the prey.
Lovespeke Crazy One.
If safety is what you
chase, my girl,
You've come to the
wrong place,
Oyster, with a strange
black pearl,
In a rough edged ruby
case.
Sit you down, and stay
awhile,
If you came to seek me
out,
Chanting, in a foreign
style,
Look at me, in doubt.
My sanctuary, you think
you understand,
But watch the serpent's
eyes,
If you falter, she may
strike your hand,
Ah, you're hypnotised.
Now listen carefully to
these words,
They'll come back to
you in time,
"Beware of a
talking bird."
"Stranger, in a
love crime."
Venture.
A simple step, so
carefully took,
With all the potential
of any old chaos,
The theory being that
knowledge, a little
And no venture leads no
where.
Four steps ahead in the
old White Hart,
With specific
references too unkind,
Memories of tea, and
twenty years,
And sandals, not
Hunters, beards,
No wings, no map, no
dream,
No fossils in this
river bed,
Simply flowing towards
untold potential,
And calmly diverting to
dam.
Don't shoot straight into the sun dudes, like ever.....
Yeah right. x
Black & yellow twat.
Unpredictable little girl...........
Turn Again
The dawning of the
frostiest morning
in hell
Will auger the eager
survey
Of your immaculate
frame
With the instrument of
my
Naked eyes.
Hastily sipping at the
daylight stream
Throwing dust slides
through the air
Golden bedroom
penetration
Sopping up the
disappointed
Feelings conjured,
bare,
By summery air.
Becomes a daily habit,
To taste at the outside
hell,
Before regretting more
red-headed
Might-have-been
moments,
With my patrons pathos
& fear, we need no more names
Or sex
Or words
Or bodies.
Riding this chariot,
headlong,
Through all self-worth.
That'll do for now, I'm afraid.
I'm afraid, of all sorts of things, like the mad dreams, like people believing in me, when I struggle, like those who don't when I'm doing ok.
Like the future, and the way we're going with tech and all that.
Cameras on every other lamp-post..... us, giving all our data to the wide world to use, for whatever purposes they might dream up.....
Monitoring, counting, evaluating, calculating, checking, taxing, controlling......as we walk into their world so bloody willingly.
I want to write nice positive stuff, but the environment is compromised when every bit of external world contact is negative.
But, it's Spring, and the sun still shines, and people remember how to smile, while we can.
All those little bits of nonsense are coming to a head, best to go off-grid, really, I wish I knew how.
I'm afraid, of all sorts of things, like the mad dreams, like people believing in me, when I struggle, like those who don't when I'm doing ok.
Like the future, and the way we're going with tech and all that.
Cameras on every other lamp-post..... us, giving all our data to the wide world to use, for whatever purposes they might dream up.....
Monitoring, counting, evaluating, calculating, checking, taxing, controlling......as we walk into their world so bloody willingly.
I want to write nice positive stuff, but the environment is compromised when every bit of external world contact is negative.
But, it's Spring, and the sun still shines, and people remember how to smile, while we can.
All those little bits of nonsense are coming to a head, best to go off-grid, really, I wish I knew how.
