we wander halls
surrounded by Rembrandt and Vermeer
I watch you laugh
at the fools encasing Gogh's pain
within Facebook selfies
yearning for loves and likes
then caught by an old sunrise
I turn and see the brush strokes in your hair
and those varnished lips
that frame your smile
of all the works of art
in this world
for me
in that moment
there was only one
Life is and continues to be fractured. As I get older the truths and constants that I held in my hands as law now seem like childlike echoes of something more noble…
Thursday, 12 November 2020
art
Wednesday, 4 November 2020
the paper defence
you only have to
touch my armour
and it disappears
you only have to
whisper my name
and I will kneel
in defeat
all that I would
fight and die for
lays like dry parchment
in your palm
you only have to
close it
and I am dust
Wednesday, 19 August 2020
the love note
the pen
traces the words
on my lips
the paper becomes a witness
your eyes my judge
your heart my jury
Monday, 11 May 2020
in this heart
there are tears here
and laughter that still hurts my sides.
there is my daughter's voice
and my son's infectious laugh.
there's a first love,
found in a school disco;
as blondie talked about hearts of glass.
in the shadows there are goodbyes,
some final,
all painful.
but there are fresh first kisses here too
and stale drunken promises
that were broken before they were spoken.
I have a thousand and one faces
from twenty thousand days.
there are places torn from context
and buried in the amber of time.
half forgotten jokes
and fragments of memories,
that twist themselves
into my dreams like knives.
but this heart knows me
better than I know myself.
for when I am weighed down
by doubt or loneliness.
it reminds me that there is still space to fill
and the time to fill it.
and laughter that still hurts my sides.
there is my daughter's voice
and my son's infectious laugh.
there's a first love,
found in a school disco;
as blondie talked about hearts of glass.
in the shadows there are goodbyes,
some final,
all painful.
but there are fresh first kisses here too
and stale drunken promises
that were broken before they were spoken.
I have a thousand and one faces
from twenty thousand days.
there are places torn from context
and buried in the amber of time.
half forgotten jokes
and fragments of memories,
that twist themselves
into my dreams like knives.
but this heart knows me
better than I know myself.
for when I am weighed down
by doubt or loneliness.
it reminds me that there is still space to fill
and the time to fill it.
my lament
she was my mother.
as a child I recall
her dressing me
and brushing my hair before school.
she even flattened a cowlick once
with the quick lick of her thumb.
there was always food on my plate
and a warm bed.
christmas was pillow cases full of toys
and easter was a wall of chocolcate eggs.
I used to sneak into their bedroom some nights
and sleep between them.
my mum.
my dad.
he is gone now.
reduced to ashes in a box.
whilst she just sits there.
her mind wiped of memories.
her stare empty of recognition.
one is dead.
one is missing.
but both are gone.
Monday, 4 May 2020
what they changed in me
for one I became a vegetarian
for one I prostituted my soul
for one I abandoned mozart
for one I moved over to the right side of the bed
for one I lost weight
for one I started learning a new language
for one I started watching soaps
for one I become a catholic
but I am fucked if I know
what they changed for me.
for one I prostituted my soul
for one I abandoned mozart
for one I moved over to the right side of the bed
for one I lost weight
for one I started learning a new language
for one I started watching soaps
for one I become a catholic
but I am fucked if I know
what they changed for me.
when I am gone
I am a shadow now,
a faded signature in a
birthday card I gave you
when you were eight.
my voice is thrown into your past,
faintly heard but indistinguishable.
yet one day
memories will surface,
triggered by deadpool
or brides with samurai swords.
then you'll hear me again
and as you tell these old stories
to a generation I will never know,
that aspect of your eye
that holds our history
will hold us both again.
I will watch you as you talk about me
and smile as you paint my flesh to bones.
then when these tales are told
and you start to pack them away,
I will step closer and remind you
of what binds you to me
and me to you.
everything in life dissolves, Frances.
everything but love.
(For my Niece)
a faded signature in a
birthday card I gave you
when you were eight.
my voice is thrown into your past,
faintly heard but indistinguishable.
yet one day
memories will surface,
triggered by deadpool
or brides with samurai swords.
then you'll hear me again
and as you tell these old stories
to a generation I will never know,
that aspect of your eye
that holds our history
will hold us both again.
I will watch you as you talk about me
and smile as you paint my flesh to bones.
then when these tales are told
and you start to pack them away,
I will step closer and remind you
of what binds you to me
and me to you.
everything in life dissolves, Frances.
everything but love.
(For my Niece)
dust
end this
before fire consumes
my world.
end this
before time unravels
within my empty spaces.
end this
before my mind
unfolds logic
within the infinity
of a single choice.
end this.
end it now.
and let the dust of time
hide it from us both.
before fire consumes
my world.
end this
before time unravels
within my empty spaces.
end this
before my mind
unfolds logic
within the infinity
of a single choice.
end this.
end it now.
and let the dust of time
hide it from us both.
Friday, 17 April 2020
the black queen
there's a ghost
in this bed,
half lost in shadows
and encroaching night.
I think I know her
and sometimes
I even feel her name upon my lips.
but I am too scared to speak
for fear she will leave me.
within the outline of a gentle smile
and with eyes that are pure darkness
she forms besides me.
in silence her arms welcome me
with a touch that is both
cold and alluring
and some nights I lay
as still as death itself,
as she wraps herself
around me
and squeezes out the
last light in my eyes.
as sleep slowly engulfs me,
I yield to this black queen.
then,
only then,
do I finally hear her voice
"fall into me, my love" she whispers
and I do
in this bed,
half lost in shadows
and encroaching night.
I think I know her
and sometimes
I even feel her name upon my lips.
but I am too scared to speak
for fear she will leave me.
within the outline of a gentle smile
and with eyes that are pure darkness
she forms besides me.
in silence her arms welcome me
with a touch that is both
cold and alluring
and some nights I lay
as still as death itself,
as she wraps herself
around me
and squeezes out the
last light in my eyes.
as sleep slowly engulfs me,
I yield to this black queen.
then,
only then,
do I finally hear her voice
"fall into me, my love" she whispers
and I do
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