Thursday 14 November 2013

the world ends tomorrow

in a moment of weakness
i break you down.
i don't care if you're
a slave to your juices
or the serpent's jacked
your mind or the
world ends tomorrow.
it is an 
irresponsible sky
that watches over
our dark acts.
i move too close
and your wall crumbles.

Wednesday 13 November 2013

what the crow sees

entwined like fire
brightly
playing nightly
dancing lightly
on my head bone.

slap my face and 
tell me
what may well be
what the crow sees
with my eyeballs.

stolen from my
daydream
by the big stream
cant hear me scream
not my voicebox.

cant hold back this
feeling
sends me reeling
puke at the ceiling
i need some sleep.







Monday 11 November 2013

on flow

cut me deep with carnal knowledge,
tear my wounds, old and new
to find the vein of ashes i contain.
spill them on this page.

channel whatever thunderbolt it takes
to have me shaking with the rapture,
dancing above my earthly bonds
and gravity as my nightgown drips
with the extend of my levitation.

take the particular difficulties i face,
spike their dismembered heads
then mount them around our perimeter.
make me a cautionary tale.

follow the trail and find me silent,
fill me with your tindersticks for kindling
then strike the match that sparks the rage
that takes on this whole damn catastrophe.

any muse would choose me but i want you 
with your wicked knowledge and gothic inclinations.
we have a smoldering love, a fire that tends
itself as i feed the wolves and howl for your attention.

i am braver than you think,
i am as weak as you leave me,
i am as putty,
i am yours, take me.




on flow

cut me deep with carnal knowledge,
tear my wounds, old and new
to find the vein of ashes i contain.
spill them on this page.

channel whatever thunderbolt it takes
to have me shaking with the rapture,
dancing above my earthly bonds
and gravity as my nightgown drips
with the extend of my levitation.

take the particular difficulties i face,
spike their dismembered heads
then mount them around the perimeter.
make me a cautionary tale.

any muse would choose me but 
i want you with your wicked knowledge 
and gothic inclinations.


...to be continued.


Saturday 9 November 2013

fresh

there are no words
to fully describe
fresh humans.
not soft, though softness
comes closer,
not angelic, though
cherubs float as
i hold you close.
not other worldly because
you are definitely earthy.

wrapped up in a bundle
as long as my foot,
bean like,
a seed.
chest to chest
breast to breast
we draw each other in,
plant ideas
make promises
watch them wriggle
and bat their eyelids
at the sun.

i see a road,
a way through 
the forest that may
have wild flowers,
deep shadows
and big red wolves
but as a fresh human
you know
we will make them our allies
and our inspiration.

will you have my hair?
my eyes?
my misconceptions
and pretendencies?
the clockworks are wound,
the teddy bears and rabbits
are ready sentinels
as you wish upon stars
and dive into life
surrounded by hearts 
that will always be yours
to draw on.

Friday 8 November 2013

the night

tonight is an inconvenient moon
pushed aside by clouds and rain.

tonight is a night to be out if you
have to, but only if you have to.

tonight is a widow's walk.

tonight brings out forces of
instinct and survival and 
assessing the risks.
you must assess yourself
on nights like this to ensure
you are not lacking.

you navigate the night
with urgency and with purpose,
cocooned in the knowledge that
forward is the only direction.

the space around you is small
but the night,
the night 
is infinite.

chance

in between thunderstorms
the steeples have
a chance to rest.

take a moment...

my breasts
too big to be contained
so you
take them
in your
hands
cupping up the
base before you
paste on the plaster.
take a moment...

the plaster
wet chalk works the crevices
concealing from sight
but not from touch
dripping tickles
smear
this isn't like
icing a 
cake.
take a moment...

lying prostrate
with the weight of white
a crater landscape
on my torso
my nipples spike
at the idea of posterity
plaster casts
more than the truth
lasts longer than a moment...


Tuesday 5 November 2013

howl if you must

take me now,
while we're dancing.
tear the flesh
from my neck
with your talon teeth,
sink them deep
in my breast
for my sweet meats 
lie within.

show no sorrow.
scoff my entrails
with abandon and
plunge deep into
my carapace to
gorge upon my marrow
before the palsy happens.

wicked is this sin,
from canal urge to
cannibal, within
this body 
lies the secrets of
the visceral. i lay 
them at your table.

on insight

"an insight like the flight of birds:" sylvia plath - love is a parallax.

insight like a flight of birds,
like beauty, elusive.
the sounds are there, more palpable than words
insight like a flight of birds.
what chains must break, what piece of fate occurs?
breathe in the light, seek the air inventive
insight like a flight of birds,
like beauty, elusive.

Monday 4 November 2013

be careful mary.

the jacarandas are back
and everything is 
blooming wonderful.

(be careful mary!)

the first purple flowers
signifying time passing
and continuity,
the survival
of the seasons.

(be careful mary!)

bluebells are like
seashells in the landscape
of childhood memories, 
you recall the games played
but not what happened earlier.

(be careful mary!)

stare, glare 
at the branches but 
chances are to be
seized or stolen and
no one's gunna
let you through easy.

(be careful mary!)









Sunday 3 November 2013

on irony

the ecstasy
of irony,
nuanced in pain - 
fingernails on the skin
within the cerebral.

taking on
the impossible 
exists,
throws stones
then turns to
the vapour of the ghost.

glean what you can,
pick up on the
exquisite distances
in the crosshairs
note closely,
tantalise,
because
the ultimate irony
lies in death.

Friday 1 November 2013

distance

at the edge of the brave stage
the water's fine.
"come in" he said
by way of invitation,
waving his hand at normal.

"but the water,
it comes and goes..."
untroubled by the
fragility of nature
the others crowd around
the rock pool,
content to paddle.

always too far
they say,
waving.

the limits of elasticity.

moon crow delirious
coming up for air,
fighting survival
is not suicide
but another, darker place.

cracked land scares me
with its back breaking
potential, and even elastic
has its limits.

it is a landscape
of other stories
outside of my window
where joining in
is metered out
so as to avoid suspicion.

there are gaping holes
that require covering,
pending rationalisations
that grow teeth
over time.

in laying it all
at my feet
the ground becomes
unsteady.