IMPERFECT, IMPERMANENT AND INCOMPLETE

She walked steadfastly onto the platform, her mind a buzz with silent yearnings to hear her name again over the muffled crowd. But it did not come. So she stood on the platform waiting for the train as a tear ran silently down her cheek. Only when the train had arrived and she’d boarded did she glance back to where she had left her.

She was nowhere to be seen….

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And though a part of her would always be incomplete, she smiled in that moment, knowing that she would never be more beautifully damaged in a thousand lifetimes; and never wanted to be anything else.


Taken from ‘Imperfect, Impermanent and Incomplete’. Part of the short story collection ‘An Impermanence of things’ – Out now in eBook and Paperback.

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Six degrees of disintegration

Paper soul dancing by life’s flame.
Burn again. Born again.
Over and over like a universe collapsing.
Coming to bleed out the dark.
A dangerous dialysis of oil and tar.
Coming here to disappear.
Smearing your soul across the world for all the birds to see.
Nothing could bring you closer.
Shooting at phantoms.
Nothing would bring you down.
Dreaming those dreams in which to lose yourself.
Powered chalk on other’s fingertips.
Dirtying up your memories.
Falling to climb but never finding your wings.
Reconciled the misery with a loss of innocence.
That sweet little heart.
You gathered your bones up to say goodbye.
Breaking at your most beautiful.
And crawling out of your skin.
Leave, hoping for them to take you.
The vanishing calling.

Ghosts

A Collaborative poem with ‘Enshrined Poetry’ (not the first time, more here).


It splits my soul.
Dragged back towards these melancholy shores.
Running through the downpour of emotions and memories.
Slick and sticky.
Covering me completely.
The ghosts gather, licking their ectoplasmic lips.
Feasting on the flesh of a thousand mistakes.
The subtle beasts, stealing my lazy reveries.
They haunt me still.
Rumbling up and down these bones, while I shiver towards catatonic sunder.
The god shape hole is backfilled with the deeds of the devil.
A By-product of love maneuvers and binding selfishness.
Like evolution.
The toxic waste of time.
………………..
Oh El I, El I….
………………..
Sweet and short reprieve.
What libertine hope is haloed into these thought chests?
Where ghosts hold the keys and cover the locks.
They never had the power of speech, yet their words haunt and taunt me.
They know the reasons for these tears.
Smiling at the circumstance.
With a spectral hand they reach in and catch me off guard.
Talismans dropped and facing away from mecca.
They whistle my lingo, until I’m driven into solid black and white.
Kiss me over and over again, staining my broken lips with shame.
As I absorb the white noise.
The crackle and hisses coil.
A mountain of monsters merge into one.
All names fade away, into the pinhole of the shadowless.

 

Erode the ruin

 

The sea was lapping at her feet now, the cold water slithering underneath her toes as the sand pulled away beneath her as the water receded. The waves were small and calm, placid like the mood she was in. It always calmed her coming here, walking down the perilous path that led from rocky outcrop at the top of the cliff. To her they were cliffs at least. Vast walls of rock keeping the sea and the world at bay. White cliffs that crumbled and creaked like the teeth of a slumbering giant.

She watched the little boat off in the distance, floating over the horizon; bobbing on the waves. Wondering what it would be like to be on that tiny vessel. Off to an unknown destination, casting her troubles and life overboard and setting off to the ends of the earth. Her dress flickered as the breeze blew in from the south, a small bit of spray spat at the bottom of the dress, marking her as an object of the ocean. Marking its territory. But she would not be owned, at least never again. She pulled at the flowers in her hand, twisting out the mauve petals from the peony bunch she loosely held in her hands. She squeezed one of them, bruising the skin and releasing a tiny bit of moisture which escaped into the salty air.

She came here for the silence and the solitude, but today she was haunted by the voices. The ghosts of those she knew that had followed her down the tumbling cliffs. They squawked and chattered, soliciting opinions and throwing comments like pebbles into the sea. She closed her eyes, but the sounds increased, twitterings of things she never asked to hear. She would never truly be alone, though it was the paradox of her desire. A wondrous dream that she chased, yet frightful of ever attaining it. Like chasing rainbows, she always came up empty yet surrounded with the multitude of others. Life dripping over her.

Dropping the flowers into the water, she watched as they descended in slow motion. The little helpers she took earlier we beginning to swim their own synchronised dance in her head now. The flowers separated like divorcing couples, sticking to each other while parts seemed to drift away with the tide. From the shore, she would have received respectful stares from passers by. Considerate looks for a soul caught up in a difficult moment, perhaps saying goodbye to a loved, one or remembering a time or a moment in life that had gone, corroded away into space like the rocks on the cliff. But she wasn’t saying goodbye, or thinking about anyone she loved. She was thinking only about herself, and how to unfix herself from the web she felt caught in.

She lifted her feet out of the sand, kicking off some seaweed which had begun to coil around her leg like a snake from the shallows. She looked back to the shore, the virgin sand glistened back at her, untouched today by those who sought out places to oil and tan themselves in the tangerine sun. She loved this place for that reason, that it was a quiet slither of the world that was her own.

Pulling the plaster off her arm, she folded it twice and popped it into her pocket. She pushed the hair back out of her eyes, securing it behind her ears while she squinted off into the distance. The boat she had seen was much further away now, battling the stronger currents she knew lay towards that area of sea. She looked at her watched, but realised she had taken it off earlier. She had left it on her bedside table. A tiny rebellious act, not to be controlled by time, or space, or matter. She had kept the ring on though, she twisted it now on her finger feeling the cool metal slide back and forth.

Some of the petals licked at her legs now, the approaching tide giving them free movement. One sloshed up her leg, sticking to it like a barnacle on a ship. She folded her arms and began to walk, slowly but determinedly into the sea.

 

The Ends of her world

She tried to save him on that day.
That day, when the coffee stained sky folded.
She reached out in her own way.
Only for her hands to turn to stone.
And her mind to dust.
A cruel trick of fate positioned her.
To watch his demise from such a vantage point of safety.
Silenced in an eternal knowing.
While a tempest raged in her eyes and mind.
So she threw it all back in time.
Crouched under her bed until the voices left her.
The thuds on the door and within her heart.
While the vines creeped up around her veins,
she erased all that she knew.
At least she tried to.
And she disappeared into the rains that came after.
Leaving no trail in her wake.
Chasing dragons by the flooded lagoon.

Wreckage – Adjustment 1.5

You lost her, a time and a heartache ago.
Spirited into the heavens on a cloud of confusion.
Murdering the future with the finality of death.
To see her now, to touch her face.
To slip inside the soul for a minute and see the life that could’ve been led.
A cosmic re-shuffling.
A kiss from heaven.
Leaves turning brown in an instant.
Evaporated away to leave only space and tears.
That fall from your eyes in a time she never knew.
From a person she no longer knows.
Sweet bitterness, loving and leaving the things that hurt.
Yet offer more love than an ocean of time.
Et vous tombez loin de mes épaules dans l’ombre et la poussière.

Wreckage – adjustment.1

This pain that spreads, that aches like a fire.
Swirling within me like a hallucination.
Is not dampened by these tears from my eyes.
These tears; that do nothing to mask my inner knowing.
That I loved you more than the world.
And miss you beyond the stretches of time.
I was absent when you left.
But I too, died they day you departed.

Turquoise veiled ghosts

Twilight’s child so faithful to the few.
Caught between the space between us.
The strong who stand and the eternal lie.
A joker’s poem of loss.
Drawn to the white winged dove and Moses smile.
A sister to the dying cancer, locked in turquoise eyes of loss.
Starting up conversation with ghosts.
She picked her way through the bones of youth.
Making it out through the death with dignity.
Into willow licked streams of sulphur.
Glowing blue in the night’s sad demise.
Where will she watch the universe now?
Which end will she choose to believe in?
Picking her skin away, waiting for her day in the sun.
Discovering more cancer on the bone.
Finding her mother crying in bed.
Rotting away the light and smiles from her memories.
Illuminated black beauty and rest. Frightened by more feelings.
Captain to a sinking ship.

Abstruse mirth

Beware the day I find you, covered in flowers.
Smiling at nothing at all.
Hiding moments in your magpie mind.
Within those heartbeats, that will strike you down;
will be a sense of the other.
Tangible, but only ether.
There would be a missing part, something I misplaced.
A part of your heart that you had reserved.
Not for anyone else.
But for the empty ghosts in your mind.
Carving their own space and reality.
And that I will have no part of.
Beware that time.

Love libarys lost

He skipped to the last pages of the book that he held like a bible in his hands, hands that had privately explored every secret and every page of the story. Words danced out before him, lost in their own rhythm; reaching their exhausting climax. The ending made no sense as usual, and he momentarily searched his thoughts as to why he’d begun it in the first place.

Ahh, that’s right; the cover looked so intriguing.

He placed the book back on his shelf, nestled it in-between an old copy of Harry Potter and his well-presented and orderly kept CD collection. There it was to remain, unopened and unexplored for an age as the dust that collected hung to the tops of the exposed pages like a glossy film. Over time the spine faded and the adventure was forgotten.

From the shelf, as if the characters had crawled from the pages to investigate, it was noticed how a new book was begun and captivated him. Other volumes cried tears of time as they were passed over again and again in favour of the new and intriguing yarn.

Until one day it was no longer present.

Unbeknownst to those who viewed from the shelf; the book was lost on a rainy Tuesday in the month of November whilst travelling on the underground. As is the case of public transport, too many souls shoved together in the tiny tin can, made for distractions and wandering of minds. Making sure his jacket was straight and his phone was buzzing like always, he had left the book on the seat next to him. A careless gesture one might say, like the throwing of a used cup out of the car window; as the residue drips from the inside. But secretly, upon discovery; he did not mind too much as the new book didn’t interest him as much as he had let on. Maybe someone else is reading that story now, on the Hammersmith and city line.

 

Precious pyrite

Feeling it buzzing, throbbing under my teeth.
Down the roots like a power line.
48 hours and it lingers on.
Blown through this life that grips the earth with white knuckles.
Departure.
Caught between states and train tracks.
Finding the marrow within.
This future state promises such gold.
Smashed down from the gods to rain upon me.
Yet I wash away with it all.
Diluted to a comment on the edge of a tongue.
The thought of the after.
Struck out in fools the gold once thought so precious.
Struggling to shine.

Sacred heart

You say it’s all in my head.
But I know you’re breaking free, lifting out of this.
The silencing of souls.
An end must always have a start.
But I’m calling out for your help.
With every spread of your wing, the feathers ripped into me.
I turned your heart to stone, when I should have covered it in gold.
The sacred treasure you gave to me.
The walls were thin, and it fell to easy
I stepped on it with my muddy shoes, squeezing out the oxygen and love.
Now I’m in the court of the karma kings, waiting for the sentence.
Waiting to be shown which way to go.
The thief who stole all at the beginning, hungry for the love.
Becoming the custodian of your sacred heart.
Only to wind up with empty hands and lonely tears.
Benedetto sia il cuore più affettuoso.
Ci riportano alla bella partenza.

Keeping faith in my doubts

Start the silence, you begin with loud nothingness.
Watching me fall away. Not fit to be saved.
These bedtime stories, these positions.
My excuses are wearing me out.
Painful words, shot down. A moment you’re not there.
Ugliness, tomorrow. Freedom, what we always knew.
Yoga pose, remote control. Housewives shining in glory.
Fuck it.
You know, you can save me too?
Chocolate on a steering wheel, emotions like banana peels.
We threw. You threw it all away.

Why

I should have known from the start.
As I crossed the line, and threw my reasoning away.
Your place or mine?
Rub out the sky then.
The taxi counting down, ready to lift off.
Into the dark, with its counter running like a madman.
After the lust, after the trust is lost and all that is left is conversation.
And the years that folded away into insane separation.
I look to the scars that flicker in my mind.
And I realise, after all this time, I no longer like you.