There's a Time and a Place...

Wishful Advert

A Secret Dreamer — Fri, 01 May 2009 21:39:08 +0000

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.

Greyscale

A Secret Dreamer — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 17:45:27 +0000

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…

A Secret Dreamer — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 17:11:00 +0000

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.

A Word in your ear…

A Secret Dreamer — Tue, 18 Sep 2007 10:41:23 +0000

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”

————————————————————————–

Pohutukawa (800 year roots)

She was clinging to the branches unsure of whether
Her destination would be hollow feelings tracing
Patterns inside her soul marking tracks to delicate
Destinations a lifetime did not guide her to.

I could feel a breath fluttering down inside me
Emptying my mind of solid feelings until it was
Only the sunshine feeding me and only the
Echoes giving sound to each contemplation.

The thin autumn wind cast emotions up with
The dreams as they swirled and caught themselves
Wishing that they were more than just a moment
Unconsciously predicted and yet never lived.

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.

Based on Elias Photo

A Secret Dreamer — Tue, 28 Nov 2006 10:00:36 +0000

Pieces on Me©

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.

Another School Shooting…2005

A Secret Dreamer — Tue, 28 Nov 2006 09:59:54 +0000

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.

old to new

A Secret Dreamer — Tue, 28 Nov 2006 09:57:07 +0000

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.

Some Old work…made NEw

A Secret Dreamer — Tue, 28 Nov 2006 09:55:09 +0000

White Tapestries

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.

Moment.

A Secret Dreamer — Fri, 10 Nov 2006 12:10:12 +0000

She walks

Gently at first

Up to her

Breathing

Deeply

As if it could be

The last time

Air

Finds her lungs

So deeply she can

Feel

It coursing

Through her

Blood.

She can sense

Her movement

She can see shadows

Mingling

With hers upon the

Pavement she

Stands

Waiting for the

Moment

Her hand begins to

Snake

Around her

Torso.

Her breath

Has

Started to quicken

Like a bullet tearing

Through

The skin

Her blood Courses

Fast

Through her veins

Her body

Screams to end

The

Waiting

And

Let

The

Moment

Come.

8/11/06

“To you my lonely walker”

A Secret Dreamer — Wed, 08 Nov 2006 12:32:55 +0000

Dark cloak

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.

31/10/06