Wanted, one careful owner
For this freckled heart
High risk of fire
Flooding probable
Consistent dream chasing
Aged well (so far)
Emotionally delicate
won’t shrink if cleaned in cold wash
10% polyester
Must be able to deal with fears
Ability to climb ladders essential
Spiders can be dealt with
White picket fence not included.
It’s a greyscale day
The colours hidden
Beneath the white
Merging into black
Even the droplets
Are vertically grey
The trees silhouette
Against blank canvas
Patterns painted
Whispers of a rainbow day.
I knew you
Before the door broke
After the rain came
During the grey
When the sunshine burst through
I knew you
Before we sheltered
After I held you
During the hope
When your breath was against me
I know you
Before you had me
After I gave in
During the darkness
When your soul melted with mine.
Below are some of the submissions for Warwick Words Writers Group Festival Performance Oct 2007.
“Avocado’s are my favourite fruit”
I am tired of trying to make the breath
Escape from these shallow thin lips
That have spent so long muttering the worth
Of those patient lines of virtue.
“I could sleep forever in this soiled safe”
I see a dozen women parading together
My own feet are barely recognized within
They include themselves amid a woman’s world
Walking amongst the sky high scrapers
Amongst their sky high shoes.
“A dreary and wasted life for a girl.”
It was the Rosenburgs that made me worry
There was a beginning of these feelings
Though I tried to loose them long before
New York took its toll offering maturity
That no one seemed to tender but would take.
“I am going for a long walk”
Conventional boredom seemed to haunt me
Hypocrisy belittled my imagination
I found that truth was a mirage against
The thundering rain of my purist notions.
“No raincoat is ever water-repellent”
I bled away some of my fierce identity so that
Against a new backdrop of home coming delights
I couldn’t bear the regime and my words
And voice became so quiet they died inside.
“You can’t coddle the sick people”
I could sleep forever in a darkened hole
I would find a slit of light and burst it
Against my ashen skin until each
Breath was taken and I found myself
Pressed between the sheets with merely
Tulips to suggest the world was spinning.
“I wonder what I thought I was burying”
————————————————————————–
She could feel a new warmth pass through each
Ripple of water as it grazed her toes she wondered
If each King could guard her against the onset
Tenderly passing her on to the next one.
I could imagine being caught in the swirl of two
Monsters clashing together below their colours
Proudly displayed on their backs under the glare
Of that protective sunshine casting over me.
I am waving to you though I know that you can
No longer see your back is turned to me without
Animosity you are finding your feet amongst the
Royalty before you search once more for mauri.
———————————————————————–
“Deep, Breathing, Fortune”
I would let the late day sun stream
In through the glass knowing in
Moments to come the colours would
Blend together deep reds and orange
Composed as if decades had been spent
Painting the image across the skies.
In my mind I have millions of views
From high above to level and below
Amidst the bodies and solitarily alone
I’ve made this scrapbook of colours
Shades secretly stored for prosperity.
It was not just the burning reds that
Marked themselves so sharply upon me
It was the white scores across the blue
Or the grey greens that merged so
Closely with the sea that you could
Never tell where each began until
Our shivering bodies stepped into it
Delving into the colours until we ourselves
Turned into that same immersed shade.
Long before I could call you mine this
Was what I saw each morning and night
When the colours awoke and discovered
Each other like we did the bright shock
Of feelings merging into one from two
Like me and you together so the brilliance
Of sea and sky turned into one.
Each morning was a brand new climax
Contrasting colours blending together not
Like the evenings deep shocks but bright
Blues and whites and greens our national
Flag of beauty unfolding as the hours and sun
Ticked over us breathing the salt deeply in.
There are reds and oranges over a blue sea
In thousands of places and we have seen them
It is not the resolute predictability of the event
But the pure intense beauty of it there when
Your hand is in mine and we can see the angel
From the corner of our eyes guiding the sun
Finally into the deep blue ocean ahead.
——————————————————————–
Dark cloak
It envelops me as blankets
In a cold bed might envelop
A lonely body against the draft
That threatens the single foot
Slipping silently towards the
Cold hard floor like that which
I am walking against again.
It wraps me tightly like a body
Against mine under layers of
Quilt protecting delicate night time
Skins from cold dark air that
Tries to creep under sleeping souls.
It hugs closely to my huddled form
Against which there is a barrier much
Like your warmth creates under dreams
We make against the darkening skies
Together which float around me masking
The enveloping cold air though which
Tonight I alone will walk.
I wonder if you are crying as you look away,
Off into that far distance where the camera lies,
Something seems to haunt the way you stand,
Maybe it’s the cold floor against your strong bare feet,
Or the thoughts that float though your unaffected,
Mind I wish I could see into see what you perceive.
Does Elephant stalk your dreams and gunshots echo?
Do you find people want to know the guy we see behind,
The camera you always hold or stand in front a mask,
Passers-by want to witness what you see behind that lens,
Where are you looking whilst you stand still for all this time?
Have to try and not move as the camera took your pose.
Jewellery wraps itself around your arms and hands,
I want to ask your silent face if any of them hold,
Any kind of meaning to you or do you just match,
With the flannel that you covered your torso with,
Jeans hanging low on your hips as if you want to,
Cover the end frays giving your indie kid status away.
Those words you sent offered me some new hope,
Maybe you aren’t just that guy from the silver screen,
An image of emotions made up of 26 different exposures,
How long did you spend trying to make yourself seem real?
It seems like it’s a never-ending task to seem real to pretence,
And seem fake to those who demand the real all over.
I’ll write you an ode and address it to your lower limbs,
Hope you find these words comforting as you work your words,
Though images and ask me for help to relieve this writers block.
30 days early and Another Blame to hold
Six years and the halls do ring again,
‘Boom, then no more screams’ headline,
Do you blame the culture again for this?
Ask a rock song for a motive it never knew,
‘Lockdown, Lockdown’ marks the paper print,
A call so pointless when the scars won’t heal.
Loose the family, who helped you grow to this,
Calls to mothers because you’re scared and young,
A wooden door now a shield from silver shards,
‘No, quit, no Jeff, quit, quit’ a desperate plea,
This seems to happen just when the storm has calmed,
Now even security’s no longer a barrier to intent.
When will Hitler have his fill of heartbreak?
Suspect nazi learning as a cause for pain,
Gothic markings made a stand you saw,
A disillusioned youth with tendencies,
That’s what you said when he walked your halls,
He seemed ‘weird’; scratch that word from use.
We’ve studied the people that came before,
You came after the films we watched with awe,
Trying to find a reason why a hall held pain,
Breaking open motives to find them empty,
‘I don’t much care for jail’ you said before,
Maybe now the screams will mark your hell.
Based on the Novel, Oranges are not the only fruit - jeanette winterson
A Mark against your purity
You are my Virgin Mary mother,
I am your deaf missionary,
Lost amongst the words you throw to shame me,
You taught me rules to read the world,
I am outcast in these moral cursed lines.
My cat-grey girl gave me up for you
Marked a page in the bible for me,
Denied and given a cross to bear,
I slept like I knew the right path,
I could see the marks across my palms.
I became a man in all your eyes,
You let me teach them right from wrong,
Took the blame when you thought I was lost,
I was the little lamb you took to be slaughtered.
Exercise the demons you think live within,
Make my own society for the lost again.
I spat at the feet of him,
That was for all of you who know,
For those that pat my arm and forgive,
I’m not going to change for forgiveness.
To you I was the mark upon your purity,
I found beyond this love you made a life,
A world when the ice would melt my heart.
You softened like a harshly worn carpet,
Still bowed in front of him up there,
Maybe you’ll tell me one day where all this begun.
Come in Manchester, This is kindly light.
White within a new whiteness,
Just black eyes and greyness staring back,
Cold solid soil against the hoof,
Marked colours blazing against
A muddy tapestry of wool entwined.
Sideways standing bracing forth,
With wilderness at every side again,
Grey against a well-worn grey once more,
Black eyes blinking into the forcing rain
patches of shelter already taken.
Dark cloak
It envelops me as blankets
In a cold bed might envelop
A lonely body against the draft
That threatens the single foot
Slipping silently towards the
Cold hard floor like that which
I am walking against again.
It wraps me tightly like a body
Against mine under layers of
Quilt protecting delicate night time
Skins from cold dark air that
Tries to creep under sleeping souls.
It hugs closely to my huddled form
Against which there is a barrier much
Like your warmth creates under dreams
We make against the darkening skies
Together which float around me masking
The enveloping cold air though which
Tonight I alone will walk.
31/10/06
