I'll just leave that there....for a few days longer....
Bloody Goddess, Bloody
Girls.
The beginnings of the
long slide,
Slips into my passenger
seat,
Be my own misbegotten
bride,
And accompany me in the
street.
I played 'chess' on
your bathroom wall,
And slid deeper into
the trap,
Nothing my muse said
could stop my fall,
Another dead feather in
your cap.
My car stalls and I run
in scream,
The radio yells out
that sex is free,
The coach coughs and
picks his team,
But you won't run away
with me.
The green scars on the
bathroom face,
Black mould where
dreams have died,
I knew that I only
exist in space,
But I couldn't see if
you knew I lied.
The sliding street
trips us up, Ha !
I fall and break my
fall on you,
Was it her he loved or
just her car ?
A thriller mystery that
lacks a clue.
I shake hands then with
future loves,
Sit in fear in your
bathroom mirror,
I examine the inside of
your plastic gloves,
And try to remember
what to give her.
Oh the night melts in a
glass of red,
My car cools from its
restless flight,
Readjust my position,
straighten my head,
Unconscious of this
emotional fight.
Change is on the way
for bathroom games,
I think I'll read a
book or sing,
Or try to remember all
your names,
Or weigh up all the
grief you bring.
Every
Sodding Day.
Inane
radio, unfocussed thought,
Sense
of “does it even matter?” loss,
Impending,
drift where once drive,
No
life-belt, water-wings,
Every
single bloody day regret, no charity,
Split
off intellectual acceptance,
From
sterile but bleeding emotional,
Bleeding
routine, rocks for cast sailors,
Safe
only if you catch them before,
They
utterly annihilate you.
Friendly
DJ, familiar soundtracks,
Do
little to surface my reality,
Just
soft, safe, dull, familiar,
Every
sodding day.
I sooo should have made the effort last night, to go to the folk festival, but my head isn't right.
I made it worse, and then went for a walk in a "new" place today. It didn't help much, and part of it was the aim of clearing my head, comparing cameras, lenses and so on, but the light was so piss-poor, and my thoughts weren't coherent enough to do more than a few. Maybe I'll try it again when I'm a bit straighter.
All the pictures in this post were from that walk.....
Cut off again
Slowly circling,
off-pitch, off-centre
Now hum with me and see
for me
This half degree from
opposites
This near closeness to
sheer blind perfection
As lofty cragged ice
walls creak worryingly
Stepping back to chaos
from this window seat
I watch you in my
prejudice
Predeciding the depth
of my love
Waving the web away to
nothing with casual hand
Before giving my eyes
wholly
My tongue, my throat,
my lungs,
Your kiss, your window
seat, your curtain,
My love song
The one with ever such
a disturbing chorus
My ice valleys, my
volcano, my chaos
A half degree from
centre
A thousand miles to the
nearest doubt.
How could there ever
have been any justice for it revenge retribution the powers of divine
intervention but no great relief from these visceral agonies denial
scales to tip to weld to tilt to weigh the odds and stack great light
from beyond your sense relieves regret and shit faced view in sharp
contrast the sky is then covered in cast iron plates rivetted and
upheld by prayer below the arc of rust and grime spinning with the
wheel of time the rock gives semblance of trust and then is gone no
recognition no recollection from the once loved and lies with self
preservation in mind I find the tarmac hard in winter grip melds
memories of burning trolleys and school diversion my version to
authority not me denial as new electrical thought thunders and
rebounds from the iron now corrugated in places this life and digital
recollection with no visible means of rapport tense and edgy the
animal fight or flight the holiday the love that asked all and caught
the lightning blast slippy and royal denial steel railed and the
roosting carrion look on pylonned junction to rickety life and bleary
self ritual you small shit I have no pity left not yours to receive
this time or hatted loss minus freezing and laughing superior dreams
now seem to fly and never reach this roof below the birds and clouds
and storms train waiting with ancient love and pulling the plug the
floor fell away the walls quick follow and exposed timbers breeding
worms and beetles grow new roots into the earth below deny all follow
the jack follow the swift decisive prey and reveal nothing loose this
cold clammy grip on the floor as a whole congregation of roaches and
fleas and mites and choristers tumble out of sight and blend coloured
glass with gold and and and lift the glass to your brain and insert
with taste and tasteful backdrop to new arrivals multi ...
disciplined in the art
of reason and antilogic and and and naturally it will then be time to
remember not yet she was weird though in an off beat frame normality
flickered behind eyes decanted from these shotgunned barrels and cut
out the straw relieve the taut tight sinuses of this crazy straight
fiction and with a crumbling seizure face the wall you cant its gone
to create a world imagine one too much too soon too misguided and
walk away over these crumbled blood soaked stones and bricks with
large dreaming so fly then swim skywards and fantasise the lot so
addicted to adrenaline not a thrill seeking hedon just a night owl
escaper trapped in these glass flowings amber ice wispy smoke
flickering joist ends telephone reality grippers so addicted to waste
to oblivion to running to beer perhaps arguably to love to lovers new
and old past and passed to addiction itself burn this beautiful life
this beautiful optimism when you have nothing it says in piss
stinking grafitti on the underside of this iron clad sky with slow
flowing larva streams you have everything to gain laughable aphorism
and obnoxious bilious aftertaste what do you know as God lands and
reminds you of your own chemical imbalances easy to back away He doesn't follow but is there when you turn your wings hurt your legs
have gone and your arms wrap around my waist too big a doubt arises
in poisoned guttle where three heads boil and fizz and blow steam
into these dark fissures the light return to adolescent pastures
green and once again forgot intended force repressors chase new prey
the outsider why cannot ever be the answer wheels within prisms and
reflected spectral memories on screens of disaster as the human
leaves the glass refills and melts into ancient tables no needles no
pins no blood no terror just a sad whimsy a notion a creed of...
self self self where
now the dawn of roses where lies the land of light so ruddy in the
baking evening so barren and denied come with the dawn interpret at
leisure and make lists to rule thought freestyle frames bend frames
break but are not so organic cut wood and twine create your own not
quite the chameleon more the diamond multi-whiskyed and many faced
the Mr Ben of this revolution your red blonde brown hair in great
huge windows and silver chariots only grips the childish side where
browns blondes and reds should fear to tread no love lost no love
found just a higher aim on this loving ground and metros at midnight
and dogs at dawn not quite following the many born nor realising true
germination in this sea of plough and waking within more confidence
shrinking ego wilted with no serious repercussion propped suspended
held up tied down and bagged and drowned lets get the hell out of
town burn it down head for the hills and natures skills with no sense
of timing no concluding gesture realising perhaps that to survive is
a strength in itself while wobbly the normal headed escape while
escaping youre nearly normal with still justice it could be said no
thought of wickedness was in your head simply the observations built
up in years that the people are trivial and you are people values
float meaningless under torrents of blistering tears of ration
control and lack are much the same soul conditions in this hall of
fame but there stands the weirding mirror reflection shows the mind
aquiver but as straight as a loser and half as simple as a prime
contender for knockout bouts on this stage of ground illusion dont
miss the station X-file elation and empty bottled romantic friction
cast skywards in prime addiction duty obligation warped by self
preservation yes I could learn from you look around see what it is
you do to wind this clock and create your life I might be your man
but you're not my wife.