Calamity will never again get you

You are erudite and important

Bathing in the now infinite water

That spans more than the whole world

When the river ached at its banks

Born to be an ocean, it broke

A word was shouted as it spoke

And it span us like a carousel

all clung tight around its throat 

with our fingers tight as mesh wire

With our guts scrunched up like iron wool

Our nostrils and eyes were dry and chapped

Cracked and bleeding

berries

There are berries growing on the tree just by my window
in the front garden that is right on the street
old men and women seem to know what they are
I don't know what they are
old men and women seem to be taking them
I don't know how I feel about this
sometimes I mention the berries to people who I think might know what they are
sometimes people seem to think they know what the berries are
I offer them the mystery berries openly
I don't know how I feel about this
why do I offer the berries to these people
why do I mind others taking them freely
they are so excited
taking them brazenly or slyly
surely I should be used that someone is making use of the fucking things

why do I get a tiny pang like I'm being robbed
tiny berry theft
tiny unknown useless fruit

I suppose I am a hoarding, greedy; capitalist
sitting in the front room of a rented home
pinching my brief ownership
between my forefinger and thumb

In a few months I will move out
I will walk past this room
I might steal berries
with a pang of guilt
and a feeling of ownership
pinch it until it bleeds out its seeds

Rot

The last lump of you still beating

                                         clinging to the bone 

                                                       of the slow 

cooked meat flaking wetly away

                              the wet flesh/

                                          dust of dead fish 

swimming off with the brines 

                                     currents through 

                                             the last blue dawn

                                          

to the black cold bottom 

to the heady pressure 

 of the sea trench: 

the finger pulled fissurs in the earths crust 

                                                             and then lay down

after three minutes 

where I didn't think at all

only shouted out;

"blood cracked skull! I wanted you for a side car to ride through the world of new adventures to find the last slip of unmapped land and comment on the worth of its fine green tree and its unturned rock, 

I wanted you to play the first ever original song on the last untunable piano, while I danced and drank and sang, I wanted you to convince me of the value of religion, to value my redemption enough to convince yourself of it and redeem the both of us, I wanted you to sink into my cold skin and embue me with the warmth of your heart, 

I wanted all of that, 

for a start." 

inner circle

stop clipping the corners off,
the centre is getting smaller,
more and more finite, graphite
shuddering off its skins,
the triangles aren't amounting,
nor are they leaving an impression.

you are just running out of corners,
you are creating a smooth surface,
but its all ripples and missed cuts,
slashed sides narrow open,
barely a wink left in you.

Stop clipping the corners off,
you are sending your self to sleep,
letting all the blood fall
that you really need to keep.

You can not shed skin like a snake,
there will be vigils in your wake,
there will be sad sighs
 after each scissor wound

and after each connection that you break.

and after each call that you drop.

and again after each number that you block
or that you don't bring forward
to your shiny new phone,
as you try so desperately,
to be left alone.

lemons

armfuls and armfuls

1. um thanks

2. I don't need them anymore, you can keep them

1. oh, yea great

2. you can make lemonade with them

1. yeah I guess I can

2. you could make lemon cake with them

1. I guess I could

2. you could juice them into the eyes of your enemies

1. I try really hard not to have enemies

2. you could give lemons to people who are close to becoming your enemies

1. like who?

halftooth

old and left lost, teeth
bleeding raw gum
smell of decay
chipped up pieces
 useless and painful
jus' 'anging there
look, look at it,
it fucking hurts

wyldefyre

 there is only so much spreading
before the pools reach their dusty edges
and someone chimes in coldly
you have said all of this same shit before
and you thought you heard a murmur
someone calling you a whore

glass blown by slack jaw

I wanted to see you, piled up like car pools all collided,
as if you never noticed, the time it took to wring you through my hands,
like water collected, dirty swill all wiped up at the source,
better than nothing,
the day was bought for half an egg and ham,
in case you hadn't noticed,
you were left back behind an empty pram,
never found out,
what it was to have soft hands,
never the sound outside, of your own ego ripping,
popping like soap bubbles.

I wanted to see you,
squinting, trying hard to understand,
to watch you watching dumb struck,
like lightening hits sand.

cold little horror

some sums from the summer,
rung necks for ladders,
all the way up to the top button,
i can feel you wincing in the wind,
i can feel the halo tighten around my throat,
tied tight to my skin,
some songs for cold weather,
this should've been, coulda been better,
 four tight little hours,
cold winter showers,
and all the awesome colours,
burning laughter in my throat,
ripped through the chords as they broke,
like waves that we swallow,
wet lungs choke,
some prayers for the summer,
this is the hollow mocking wrote,
do you not remember,
do you not remember?
do you not remember?
some sums from the summer,
rung necks for ladders,
climbing clumsy brothers,
together forever floundering,
half wits collected,
around collapsable ideals,
the flat land reveals,
all that is spherical and real,
the empirical reveal,
and you see it,
coming at you like a moon,
hallowed and horrible,
howling disasters,
lisping whispers,
death reeking sinistersssssss,
sisters piled like empty cans to shoot,
all the way up to the top,
rolling over like waves,
from the bottom to the top,
all the way over,
some sums from the summer,
before hell froze over,
and choked at the back of my throat,
like a stale biscuit.

birthday poem

so this is still my life,
this unbroken string,
wrapped around my knuckles,
white, chapped and bleeding

once more

i cut you out, and lay you down like a flag on the cold ground,
all meaning lost, in the grass and the frost,
the night lines are harrowing, terrible,
the skyline is rumbling air,
smoke fills the roof
the roof is rumbling terrible,
the heart burn is mounting,
to sky tip snow,
hot ash is spinning through my lungs,
like only you know,
like the hellish high water is flooding our brains,
and the effigy I built of you is burnt up once again,
and the pedestal we teeter on; in instant is; tumbling once again,
and the head aches; are a flash flood; pissing down the drain.

I feel better than I would if i'd just begged for more time,
that is no kind of life line to be hanging on,
with your eye half behind your head,
waiting and waiting for the day of the dead,
this is no better than the day that we'd said,
when we waited for corn to pop,
but there were roaches instead,
and we bleed from our sores,
with our feet running red.
I feel better than I would if i'd just begged for you,
to come out from behind curtains, out into the sun,
lent me a handgun and a shoe lace,
so I could run through the apocalypse until my wick was done,
and then I could swing between the door frame,
dreaming of what never had become.

stones throw,

You were half inside the rock you threw,
the heart I felt flew out of you,
and through your teeth the air you drew,
to bite some cold, just ice to chew.
before yellow moons,
and newer songs,
before waning sails...

that just do not know where,
   to belong.

and we sat side by side,
hands tied,
and we tried and we tried,
but that was then,
when the echos ran out,
into circles so perfect,
then sank from the middle,
from where they began,
where that rock did land.
as we sat side by side,
hands tied,
and I tried,
but that was then,
when I told you we'd mend,
when I tried to pretend,
that was then.

ambitious

blacked out teeth and windows,
drawn near enough to tear,
closer then, nearly far too close,
breaking pieces off in puzzlement,
so damn frustratingly spectacular,
as the apples start to die,
rotting left out centrepieces,
the unavoidably blue sky,
that the tip of you will whisper to,
but it isn't nearly near enough,
with brokered deals with tired expressions,
you could have had a handfull,
you could have had a castle,
pretty white washed walls pretty white skinned princess,
clear crystalline water,
just dripping through your fingers,
passed by figures wearing mirrors,
you my son, you could have been,
you aught to of for certain,
but each day kicks you back reeling,
lip stick smears the window,
so disgusting how it taunts you,
non happenings that haunt you,
you ate broken glass and pulled through,
clinging to your catheter,
drowned in love and holy laughter,
drowned for real shortly there after.

one half of the room are vampires

dragged a line through chalk, 

I sighed to say I'd made you talk,

I'd dragged you here by the neck,

away from love and loss and loving.

ankles tied tight swept out from under you,

away with the tide that will never come back,

away with the youth that burns behind you,

a comet tail on a commercial flight, 

spindly perfect cloud, trailing white, trailing white,

as the gold dust becomes... just sediment, 

sticks to the side of glass at the side of the sink.

you were brought here for a reason,

for recompense, for treason,

to sound out everything you believe in,

in simple symbols,

sighing cold in creaks,

like the window lets air in,

one sad sap at a time. 

I need to hear your epiphany,

I need it billowing through my neck,

but I'm stuck with your silence,

in a building without phones,

I need you to bring energy,

but you came empty fisted and alone,

I was waiting weighted like a freight cart,

without wheels, with broken bones,

a pack mule cut to pieces, 

a standard bearer waving madly, sweetly stoned, 

unaware of the subtext, the relevance, 

the debts 

happy hanging like a scapegoat,

crying idol all alone. 

talking like a stranger,

you punched another ticket, 

your stiff upper lip a blistered beak,

you were smiling like you

 were holding something back

a throat loaded with vomit, 

or the ability to speak. 

tough

...you curl up your lip,
 don't you know how to apologise?
you look absurd,
 like your soul's being extracted by syringe,
I hope there is something left to burn inside you.

...you turn away,
because you don't know what to say,
I wish you'd cry,
I wish I thought you had it in you,
how I'd fall, like a planned demolition blasting grey.