Grounded

Skimming the coast as the earth sighs.
Went to sleep as the tides rise.
Caught in my eye like a halo.
Escaping the nightlife.
Weighted and shaking from a feeling unknown.
Blinked for the thousandth time.
Lost in a meaning that tastes like black.
The hum and the rattle enter my bones.
Splinters travel to my brain.
I’m anesthetised and sermonized by all I see.
Hoping to fall, crash and break.
To start again.
Grounded.
Touching terrain with feathered fingertips.

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A break with reason

Let our eyes see, peek behind the blindfold.
Your well-worn heart heaves to a different beat.
The bones of the world hold heavy in your hands.
Try to understand.
The harm was meant for someone else.
Someone I’ve never met.
Not to shine that light on anyone I love.
The ones around me when I die.
As I try not to cry.
This two hearted monster that runs to naivety.
Boiling my brain into shadows.
Burning my blood.
Breaking my smiles down to nothing but prayers.
To only be afraid of the end.
Building myself an Allah. Building up to Jesus.
Crying and creeping out of this cradle in my mind.
There is nothing but sugar in my bones.
And desperation in these bombs.
Exploding into nothing.

Oh Father

Trying to forget, in a month full of regrets.
Each one a paper cut on my tongue.
The sting and sing of a song never sung.
Oh father, please hear these crystal callings.
Tuneful as they resonate out of my bones.
It hurts deep within, now an avalanche of sin.
A snaking of something unknown.
This internal scaffolding rattles with every utterance.
Forgiveness seems to be someone else’s fate.
But I cough up a prayer, a confession;
my contrition aimed high into heaven.
As below my skeleton shatters to dust.
Silently, as I know I deserve it.

Temporarily Demolished

The dark hand hovers, swoops in to snatch the light.
Bathing me in shadows and crashing the sun into the moon.
Shaking the tectonic plates of my life.
Shaking out a fountain of tears.
Breeding the germ of loss, which spreads around my heart,
and eats away at my bones.
Questions and corrections, always too late and never answered.
We come full circle, back to home.
Returning to where the memories swim.
Tugging me in every direction.
The drop of hatred swells, oiling my blood until a rage torrents.
Darkening the world further.
But there are eyes watching, and hearts beating.
And tears that need drying that aren’t my own.
Though I cannot see the dawn,
and it’s colder now than I’ve ever known.
Inside, the candle will always burn.
Keeping me warm.

Bag of bones

What is left to discover, underneath of another?
Slipping their hand inside your dreams.
Blink and they’ll hover, laying oily fingers upon you.
Dripping into your world.
Turn you over like heroin.
Underneath those clothes that hang like a skin.
They’ll slip within, and caress your soul.
At least that’s what you believe.
That’s what you’ve been told.
A smiling, nodding bag of bones.

Elle va bien

They jostled onto the train that had arrived with a clankering commotion at the station. The vaulted tiled ceiling of the underground station swirled with the sound of metal, tannoy announcements and tourist hubbub. The train had emptied somewhat, spilling out its human cargo which shuffled towards the luminous sortie signs, the basic words even foreigners understood, ingrained from childhood French lessons and the trappings of travel. They were able to get seats as the train pulled away and snaked into the belly of the city, passing tunnels and bones of the long forgotten.

The seats were as hard as wood, worn down from millions of asses thankful of somewhere to rest for the short journeys between stations. They were heading down towards Saint-Marcel and thankful too to be getting away from the crush and pull of the touristy hot-spots. They watched the other passengers engrossed in smart phones, conversations and anxieties of potentially going the wrong direction. Passengers on life’s train of happenstance.

Opposite them sat a lady, listening to her headphones and glancing off into the train. Looking, but searching for nothing. Her brown hair fell around her face, framing her like a motionless portrait typical of those seen meters above in the many museums dotting the city. She sat motionless, listening to her music as the train swayed and hummed down the line. The only movement was a collection of tears that suddenly began to build and breach, trickling down her face. They watched as she tilted her head down, blinking away the collection of tears and emotions that had appeared. One of them jabbed the other in the side, bringing attention to the scene before them in case it was not being seen or felt for the degree that it was. He reached inside his pocket and took out a tissue, hoping it was clean. The crinkles indicated it had been with him all the day, but looked devoid of anything unpleasant.

He reached across and gently touched her arm. She looked up, surprised. “Are you okay?” he asked, hoping his eye’s spoke to a level beyond the language required. She nodded and mumbled words of appreciation, taking the tissue and dabbing her eyes. A small smile appearing at the corner of her mouth, her eyes shaking away an embarrassment that wasn’t necessary.

She looked above her finding the line map, a tiny yellow light indicated they were at Bastille. The train usually emptied a lot here, and she glanced around seeing those exiting and the people awaiting to board. Her hand found the phone in her pocket and she skipped the track on her music. The new song crashed in, her mind was suddenly taken elsewhere as her heart skipped a beat and the chaos around her ebbed away. It had never been ‘their song’, but it was always one that had reminded her of them. The lyrics so seemingly fitting for what they had, what had burrowed inside of her and warmed her soul. She did not notice the two guys sit down opposite her, the limited space between where their knees nearly met. She was off elsewhere, hearing laughter and smelling that someone on her bed-sheets.

The train jerked, and though she stayed in her memory, it shifted; along with the train. It had all crumbled, corroded only yesterday. Smashed liked a teetering tea cup on the edge of a kitchen counter. She could understand things not working right now, she could even acknowledge the arguing. But those had been usual relationship problems. To be told you were no longer needed, that you were no longer welcome in their life. That was what had hurt. She could deal with the packing up of possession and the moving on. Going into work the next day as routine propelled her forward. But she could not take the hurt that had ignited within, perhaps lying dormant for the inevitable. That she was never the one, she could no longer make them happy. All that she had to offer, came up short. All those reasons she had told herself why she was inadequate rang out to be real in a horrible realisation of truth. A view she had shielded her eyes from, like looking at the sun. It had swallowed her, submerged her in a grey that clung to her like oil.

Putting on her work clothes, combing her brown hair. Seeing the day instead of cowering in her bed like she wanted. The feeling of detachment and lack lay upon her, making her feel that no one really cared about her in this world. If she turned up to work, or not; nothing really mattered in a way. The tears welled and broke forth, streaming down her cheek in a warm river. She had forgotten she was on the metro. Her mother would have been ashamed to see her show such emotion in public, but she did not realise. Too consumed in grief and self-piety that she found herself deep beneath the streets of Paris on a Metro train that ran all day, every day. Until she felt something nudge her arm, softly yet foreign. She looked up surprised to see a small tissue and concerned smiles greet her. She nodded a thanks and was able to cough up “Merci, je vais bien.” She smiled slightly, knowing it was true.

The grey was still within her, but in that moment a tiny part had turned to white.

Holocaust

This city of bones, filled now with incoherence.
Runs through this heart like haemoglobin.
You banish the hope, all latent strains of co-dependence.
Killing the love within, sparing all but the ghosts.
Who open the holes in these veins.
And sing in your cabaret of departure.
‘’Les morts ne pleurent plus.’’

Consume

A burning white heat from above.
Did nothing to change your direction.
The day you came to tip the world over.
Feasting on the fragments of my life.
The little memories that get caught in your teeth.
Pick and poke through the gristle of my dreams.
What is here for you to digest?
Which part of me comes upon your silver platter?
I watch as the blood drools from your mouth so sweet.
Fresh from a kiss that left me breathless.
I held my tongue.
Which bled into my heart.
Feeling your fingers on my spine which pulled out each vertebrae.
Held aloft to see the spineless state I am in.
Heaped onto the floor in gesture of subservient decay.
So now pop me in formaldehyde, and watch me distantly up on the shelf.
Just glass and meat.
Eat raw parts of my heart that now struggle to beat.
Sweet delicious demise.

Digested by God (love tasted)

Called down by the black crows.
The end unravelling from the start.
But there is no need to fear.
All these pieces of such a life, twinkling like a magpie prize.
Caught in the claws and clutches of another.
Keep an eye on the rising waters that swallow your bones.
Fusing the soul back to the heavens.
Late again for your own funeral, but god forgives you.
The retreat back into the mind, the swirling birds that will meet you by the devil’s eye.
Does it ever equal all the pain you’ve gone through?
What happens when the anger and love show?
Collected and dispensed like feathers on the wind.
A bird in the hand.
The ache in the bush, twisting in the fingers of fate.
Soaking wet, and restless. Flying south for the eternal winter.
Six feet of soil and sadness.
Buried like treasure and the troubled heart.
But you don’t get to go yet.

Coming up for air

What lurks beneath your feet, leagues under yet scratching at your back?
Tickling the spine that creaks and cracks.
Drop the things you can no longer carry.
Things to pull you under; the little things.
Tears for a lover lost in the spray.
That cling and pull like lead on your bones.
I tried to breathe under water.
Swimming to the ocean floor, and the depths of my mind.
Grew new skin. Housed within an Atlantis locked in time.
We allow others to wash upon other shores.
To dry in the sun like old bits of seaweed.
Crinkling and cracking as our hearts harden.
I see the sun now, twinkling in its majesty.
Blinking above like a solar eye winking, smiling once more.
Calling me up to the chorus and ring of tomorrow.
I need to come up for air.
To feel the sun and salt on my back again.
To cough out the poison of the deep.
Where nothing but leviathans and despair creep.
I hook a line into your heart, and pull out of the rip tide.
Pulled forth into the breaking waves of gracious adoration, deserving of a quiet day.
Out into the air and the salty miasma of an oceanic dream.
Effortlessly you appear, as I quietly transform.
My saviour in the eye of storm.

Scratches inside the skull

Hear the clouds, rolling and calling.
Rumbling across your spine.
Vertebrae by vertebrae it moves you.
Like a little child crying out in the dark.
The air gets heavy. And the rainbows die.
Anything you wanted, falls back.
Turns into time.
The rain you feel on your fingertips.
Are the tears you cried as a child, busting the dam.
Flooding your spirit, marking a way to the funeral of a childhood friend.
The one you wished the most for.
Built those dreams with sand and innocence.
Playback the videotape in your mind before the lightening burns the image.
Filling your eyes with fog and fury.
Of a lost dream, crumbled and put to sleep.
Snatched by the monsters and left to die in a foreign atmosphere.
Alone, in a time glass.
Covered each second in the sand of regret.

Haunted hunter

A mournful tune to play as the bones buckle.
The hum inside your gums while the night lingers on.
What sound called to you, rose you from that grave of regret.
We sit and watch the world tip over, spun into a dizzying dervish and lost in the mind of God.
These darkened eyes that haunt you, casting casualties and consequence.
Do you leave them to turn to stone?
To honey up and glaze like the milky itch of remorse?
How heavy the skin of the idle.
Bleached into the alien grey like driftwood on a beach.
Turn on that apology and settle into an xstatic rhythm.
Shaken from the willows of the wilds. Shaking stars and dust from your mind.
The black swan which follows you, cries out for change.
Etiolated in the darkening world you occupy.
Be still its cries of the dying, the call for collapse.
For this flightless bird of paradise craves warmer climates.
And a world much brighter than our own.

I’m Out

Standing there waiting to get rich.
Capturing snowflakes and copper cultures.
Pulling at the loose threads of humanity as the earth boils.
Wake, work, repeat on a set shift.
Eyes blinking into obscurity and conformity.
Waiting for the computer to load and the phone to glow.
An alien iridescent-ness which steals your soul.
A final broadcast will not be aired.
Turned down your voice as they block out the sun.
Brick bones that build a city of sad sapphires.
Sparking in the ruins of a Midas dream.
Leave your stuff off me.
Unhook the claw of the social disease.
I disconnect and disappear, logging out of sociopathic media.
Where you capture nothing but a sad slow demise.
I run naked, like in a rainstorm.
Bathed in the sulphur from the solar wind.
Running away from your ivory nightmare.
Leaving the broken cage behind.
I’m out.

Tender, the grass of war

A bloody dust covers the eyes of the onlookers.
The voyeurs of life’s sad pageant.
Cattled and rattled they sing the song of war.
A sweet lullaby to mark their intent.
The flag sticks in a body not long departed.
Stretched and lined like the marks of policies.
The bow broke and spilled them into the trenches.
Dirtied their bones and wet the bed.
What care for them as their moon-skulls broke?
Separated out into the dark sea of regret.
Piece by piece we cut away the fabric of life.
Stitched into a patchwork of redesign.
Peace and thoughts maligned.
Meet me in the sandbox, the playground, the gulf.
Help me destroy the things I do not understand.
Recess, regress. God bless this mess.
A boy lost in a man’s disappearing world.

World is spinning (旋转失控)

Electric vertebrae, tasting the wavelengths.
Calling out on the ocean of time.
Feel it pulse, shimmer and shake in my bones.
I Saw it in the I, Ching.
Consult, consult, confer.
Disturbed state of mind.
Eating black ice cubes on a whitewashed day.
Soaked in the rain of the juniper tears.
Slipping into each pore, devouring me once more.
Oh that little friend of mine.
Dropping plastic swords and fighting to stay alive.
Now in a trance, and feeling it once more in my heartbeats.
The kick drum of immortality.
Dip this moment in bronze, and tie me to a plinth.
Whispers, all around like welcomed sound.
Dripping once more into cosmic dreams.

Ever decreasing circumstance

It’s like a cold and stormy morning.
That day she tried to warn them.
Snapping her twig bones with the weight of circumstance.
Trying to walk away, curled up and tortured.
Dusting the regret from her hair.
She wants to be elsewhere.
Trying to disappear into someone else’s dream.
She tuned in to reasonable fear, Taipei to Tel Aviv.
Skirting the frequency of moral decomposition.
Trailing the warm currents of the sky above.
The damage appeared as they beat the drum.
Pounding in her skull while the water rose.
Feeling trapped like a goldfish in a bowl.
Swimming in her own coincidence.
Roll her over, watch her breathe.
Drinking in the rain as she dreamed once more of far off oceans.
Setting her sights on another orbit, while they set her on fire.
Breaking her from the rooted home, and that look in her eye.
A slow dance into dismay.

This is now your lament

Turning to fire in the diamond white sky.
Blaze across our memories like a dying comet.
Let go of disappointments, and feel the ground instead.
Touch my soul and feel your bones shake.
Then feel it in my heartbeats.
Singing out a rhythm as you dance to a heavenly tune.
We watched as you collapsed.
Imploded like a supernova of shame.
Yet do not decay and float away on the solar winds.
Cast you tear stained stars all over our indigo horizon.
Take the strides and tides that rip and pull at us away.
And leave us in the breeze of your wake.
Reaching up to heaven in our own floric ascent.
Like a frozen flower in a meadow of dust.
Locked for eternity, in the pull of your divine gravity.
Shed not a glance at our artic distress.
For we melt on the inside, knowing you are safe.

Mountains

Mountains. As far as the eye can see.
Snow-capped pillars reaching to prick God’s finger.
Hue away the mountainside, take the flesh away from the monster.
Are we rocks if we separate, or still part of that hill?
That unmovable Olympus staining my life’s sky.
Mountains shift and quake when you tremble.
Pushing me further, higher and stronger.
Cutting off the air that warms and suffocates these lungs.
This horizon bleeds a new tomorrow.
Sinking into these weary bones of today.
I do not long for flat plains or tempered air.
This challenge of life hits hard where it needs to.
The frigid terrain, freezing the sweat and blood on my fingertips.
Making me feel each breath that squeezes out at altitude.
Forcing me to look back and see how far I’ve come.
Planting flags in view, no longer in quicksand.
Lofty and up high, as my ego sinks below.
Waiting to ring in the new day, thousands of feet above yesterday’s malaise.
Mountains. All around where this eye roams.
Sealing in nothing but change.

Crawling out of a dream

My apologies please, I did not mean to interrupt.
Floating in my own dreams, a million miles above.
You tiptoe towards ascension, drinking in thoughts divine.
But fumbling in reality, and faith you think sublime.
I folded your bones in your sleep, cupped your tears as they fell.
Watched you swim in the shallowness, in pools of personal hell.
You want me to dream like you, and strip those trees bare.
And play forever with diamond sand, bowed deep in earthly prayer.
From vantage I watch the injured birds, in circles with broken wings.
Kept together by the glue of self, played on by other’s strings.
Chew over these observations, and golden words from God.
I apologise again once more, for the lesser things forgot.
So I cup you in my feathered hands, and wake you from the dream.
And do my best to understand, that things aren’t what they seem.
Vous êtes déjà Dieu, et déjà ce que vous connaissez.
Il est posé comme une graine immaculée, en attendant sa chance de grandir.

Cremate

Break these bones into splinters. Snap the spine and suck the sap.
Throw the pieces on the fire. Douse it all with distain and detriment.
Do not handle me with gloves on.
Touch me deep.
Treat me like a firework, ready to burn. Burning through like phosphors.
Strike the match on my skull. Crinkle and crack such emotions within.
Burning down to my heart, sending my soul to embers.
Floating into your lungs to dwell forever within.

Fervour

Say a prayer while you sink to the ocean floor.
Young feathered boy.
Eat the darkness as the sky alights.
Filling your soul with starlight.
A transient tempted eye.
Sweet delicious girl.
Smash the edges and eat the pith of life.
You know they lied to you.
Course the universe and break the isotopes.
Wring them clear of the oil that curdles.
Washed away by a secret self.
A knowing of the realm of desire.
Candied couple stuck in the honey of the land.
Taste more than the drops of inconsequence.
Bury the bones on the moon.

Keeping the skeletons subdued

Once, when it was too late.
They slipped in to carry our innocence away.
Stealing our tomorrows with sacks on their backs.
They told us to go west to paradise.
Look up, and think of eucalyptus.
Not these pale blue eyes that drag you to the ocean floor.
A watered grave where your dreams erode like a pebble on the riverbed.
Dressed us in sweet words as they stripped our skin.
Wiping away everything. No fingerprints on our souls.
That great American hero. That angel in the night with the candle burning.
They kept the strings pulled tight.
Bunched and preened us.
Our daffodil heads blobbing in the winds of subjugation.
They touched us deep and unwelcomed.
Feeling up our virtue like a priest would.
Filthy fingers around our bones and hearts.
Stunted our growth.
Licked at us with arthritic tongues, soaking us with erosive saliva.
They hold us still, keeping us in the storm.
As the nightmare rages on.

Dragon days

A sleeping dragon in these bones, steaming up solace.
Warming this heart with a smouldering fire of care.
He gives me scales which armour my soul.
A silent guardian in this misleading world.
As we meandering down our own roads.
Upon shifting tectonic plates of time and the ground we tread.
He balances and sympathise.
Illuminates and rationalise.
All that flashes and dances before these tired old eyes.
Charging at the ghosts that call me to the deep cold lake.
Banishing the knots of doubt, that weevil into my mind.
A guardian, a soul protector.
Giving me magic to fly into the mystical sky.
Leaving shadows in my wake.

Chasing shadows

And they came in the night.
Dripping off of nightmares and fears carved in rock.
Slithered out from under my tongue.
They cracked your vertebrae and dusted our world with the pieces.
Those shadows of things.
Unspoken ideas that click and tumble around your skull.
The world unhooked the latch, and blocked out the stars.
Heaved into a silent supernova which bubbled in my soul.
Flick the charcoal from your fingertips.
Smear my brain with the sooty powder of the shadow you inhaled.
The yokey adjuster that they installed in our eyelids.
Click and turn like a wheel of bones.
Yet they drape our world in festive garbs of black.
Cutting velvet cakes in half, filled with dark oily dirt.
Escaping the shadows, cupping them like butterflies in your hand.
You may feel safe, but it doesn’t make it so. The shadows know.
They feed off us, the plentiful.
Like wedding guests at a buffet.
Greedily feeding and flashing false smiles.
Letting the wolves in the backdoor.
Staining shadows.
Stealing honey from the moon.