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.

Circles in the oil

The dark sky sways, undulating in that oily void.
Threatening storms, and to swallow me.
We move in motion, dancing across the dangerous divide.
Hoping not to fall. Hoping instead to fly.
Yet the golden dreams crumble to ash, and the sulphur seeps into our bones.
Laid waste across the terrain like cooling magma.
Did you prick your finger upon the wonderment?
Did you breathe in a new world design?
The lungs now get heavy with the tar of life.
Weighing down your soul until you shake into nothingness.
Black. All turns black as the sky shifts and salutes a new day of redundantment.
Our bones turn to chalk, and we write are names on the tombstones of tomorrow.
Erase. Re-write. Turn back the time to let in the light.
We all want our lonely little world.
To swim away from the one that’s drowning.
Let the pin prick breach and gape.
On a raft of a thousand reasons.
Allow the blood to cover a new imagination.
And suck the seed of dreams, to save yourself.

These Dreams

 

Where do the dreams go to die?
The great throes of a beast whose being shines with an energy of a lifetime.
The elephant graveyard of hopes, where the bones crumble and crack in the burning sun of reality.
Do they die at all, or hibernate under the covers of life.
Forgotten about until the final hour, to flash across our eyes like signs on a road never taken.
These dreams wither; they fold and float away on the winds of existence.
Spirited away like the seasons of youth.
Like leaves from a tree they decay.
Never watered, chopped down before the seed ever even germinates.
These dreams, forever in my mind yet always out of reach.

A Prayer dissected

Wings to fly, yet grounded.
The anchorage of my soul, gravitised to you.
The buildings and clouds climb above us.
Reaching up to god.
Trapped in this feeling, caught in the chaos of blinding resolution.
That glued my eyes open to the reality of it all.
Your feelings match the buildings so tall.
The reach and pull, and ascend away from me.
Into the space of another time.
Another life yet to be.
The weight of your world breaks my bones.
Splinters my soul and leaves me gasping for breath.
Split and scar the flesh to pull out the love.
Though there’s no need to cry.
China tears and crystal cries will only shatter in the echo,
of the words I spoke in pain, in dismantling the church of our hearts.
But keep that light on in our chapel.
The one that banishes the shadows, the things others know.
Those little pieces of our life mean more to me than those.
Let me devour them as you whisper in my ear.
‘You will again pray here.’

Dissolve

In the moment we fade, into shadows and dust.
Corroded and broken, like heartache and rust.
For time is motion, both forward and back.
And into the darkness, our minds birth the lack.
Of knowing limitations, of body and mind.
That we all fade away, over spread golden time.
Once oh so pretty, that the angels despaired.
How a dream would unfold, how souls ceased to care.
And the ghosts swirled around in a sad misty dance.
Where the passage of fate, and time took their chance.
To rob them of hope, to turn night out of day.
Where love and of beauty, will dissolve away.

Searching

Look inside a different view.
A world spun on a wavering axis.
Shifting and shaking to a tectonic heartbeat.
Bring a different truth, I’ve heard so many.
Cracked from the ice and the frozen tongues.
Coughed up by devils and delicious ruin.
Was I allowed to change my mind?
Change my religion and make it fly?
Or cloak my thoughts and despairs.
Drown the reasoning in a bath of holy water.
I held my breath.
Waited for the manna to rise.
The milk and honey to seep out of my blood.
Out of my mind.
I caught the world, flying on the wings of a dove.
Into the eye of the storm.
Looking for a home. Looking for a hope.

Run

These leaves, they cover and smother me as my mind claws and scrapes at the end.
Called down to the lake, past the rotting trees.
No one came looking for me.
Broken bones and a honeycomb heart that heaves to an old tune.
Tasting tears, and welcoming fears to consume and throttle me.
Adrift along that quiet sea of loneliness.
Watching the lighthouse of hope slip beneath the sky.

Unearthed design

These dreams that held you, turned you over in time.
Made you everything but mine.
They smell like morning peonies, precious symphonies align.
You found the bones of a long lost soul, turned up in the tide of your blood.
Washed away in monsoon floods.
Seeing if your veins could fly, coughing dandelions and mud.
Crack this dream like and egg, stitch up the wounds that never heal.
Stretch it over the world.
Pulled into another paradigm.
Live now for those golden days of charm, pulled out deep from the mire.
Throwing us both on the pyre.
Setting your soul on fire.
Then leave all this decay behind.

Mooncats

(A Collaboration with the cosmically colossal Nara15blog

The depths of space.
Cold and frozen like a liar’s tongue.
Decorated with imagination, and the Christmas lights of the Milky Way.
Like kings we travel across mountains, the time valleys and the soundless desert to offer the myrrh of our hearts.
Watching the world from up high above.
Metallic buckling and inclination set us down.
Dropped onto that dusty surface.
That sunken dark side of the moon.

A whirl and snap, a titter and tap.
The astral music of our future calls out across the dunes.
Feeling our subtle energies, ameliorate with the salt intake.
To deflect the dark interference, a vast endless shriek

In the indigo star mist they barely exist, through cells of the unknown.
A flight of fancy tickling their whiskers, as the mooncats rise, out of klexy carbonize ebony.
A night call that sounds all hours of the day, as the sun passes them by.
How their lives abide, stretched and multiplied by the gravity of circumstance.
They ceaselessly divagate in the nebulous noon-shine quest.
Tunnelling in the honeycomb of a starry satellite.

Beware the fringes of the universe and the edges of the rock.
For lunar moths will dance on their nose, and call them out to space.
A grave of diamond dust to mark where they had been.
Eclipse our minds with astral sulphur, and sing us to sleep with the haunting Egyptian sounds of the gods.
Bastet tiptoeing in your ear, while the mooncats purr.

Summer climb

Did you see?
The moon collapse. Sinking into the hazy blue.
Nightsleep shake and eyes wake.
Body rise along with the mercury.
Taste the air like nectarine slices.
A sweet design.
Walk into the softening air of the summer climb.
Sunshine sway on the sand abandon.
The moment lands on the skin like a dragonfly.
Holding out hope for a break from chrysalis.
The time has come. What have you done today?
Laughing as the butter melts on your back.
The midnight sun which never fades.
Uncertain, like talking to strangers.
Burning longer, as the time stretches out onto the horizon.
Catch the rays like the insults.
Thrown our way to re-calibrate our senses to summertime highs.
Watching starfish rise into space.
Et chantez dans les vents solaires.

SHELL OF IMAGINARY IMAGINATION

Strange little threads that are held on to.
Causing commotions in my morning coffee.
Sinking feelings that cut too deep, simple systemic exposure.
Buzzing like the office fluorescents, dialling a tone.
Naked and running. Leaving myself at home.
Heaven bubbles in my veins, blowing blooms along my spine.
Disturbing the herons of this mind.
Take me down to the water.
To the catacombs of the happy, were they hoard their treasures.
This middle distance, which keeps us at arm’s length.
Puts my past to sleep, and rip open my mind.
Something so obscene.
The devil can dip its fingers in my soul (if out of sight).
A sunglass reflection in the mirror, which at first seemed so close.
Cut the distance and pull the cord.
Curtain calls and swallow whistles.
Finding me alone on that wondering star.
Flying, down Mulholland drive

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.

Mother’s milk

Grow up big and grow up strong.
Be nice to others. Get along.
Don’t do drugs, and don’t’ drink coffee.
Savour each day like a delicious toffee.
Always colour inside the lines.
Say your prayers, once; two times.
Be still, be quiet, be seen not heard.
Be small and quiet like muted bird.
Play nice, play well and be enamoured.
For the nail that sticks, is that one that’s hammered.
Those thoughts of lofty aspirations.
Are just a sign of desperation.
So do not fall into the abyss.
Of needing help, to love or kiss.
For the witch is what they’ll call the other.
The fallen woman.
The post-natal mother.

Seen on television

What position did you wear, glaring out with weekend eyes?
A real woman. Wearing a smile and turpentine.
They cannot buy the things you have, make an offer.
Sipping souls with a slice of lime.
Slip your tongue into another lie.
A strange life where the fake are sanctified.
He’s a real man, he’s the real thing.
He’ll do anything.
Holding out for all but a mother.
Splinter eyes and matchbook teeth.
Both now adrift on that world stage of comedy.
Tracing figure eights and commodity.
She’s a real woman. Saying a prayer into small boxes.
A real man. Attuned to product placement.
Grease those wheels in the mind.
Spin into a Monday morning, hung like a broken jukebox.
Looking now for new interruptions.
Chasing new enemies.

Orbitam lunae in caritate

(Moon love in orbit)
Abound and in the air.
Tied down for fear of flying.
Skim you clouds like a shuttle into space.
Rattling past like a shooting star.
You take me higher.
Coughing out an atmosphere.
Pulling through your gravity to dance like moon daises,
turning towards the sun.
That face of you, eclipsing my world.
Suffering craters so gladly.
My new lunar religion.

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.

Love saves the day

In his heart, he couldn’t say.
Why on earth he was born that way.
And in his mind, his thoughts progressed.
His soul did ache, heave and compress.
For when he learned that there were others.
He pulled down deep within his covers.
And smiled a smile of understanding.
A powerful notion that was commanding.
That it didn’t matter if you like either gender.
It only mattered if the love was tender.
So he took their hand then stated proudly.
A message to the world yelled out so loudly.
That he loved them the most, come what may.
And in the end, love saves the day.

A lost tomorrow in today’s pocket

We’ll never be the same, crawling out of this chrysalis.
Rubbing the eyes of disillusionment with the fingers of the future.
Everything given, is repeated.
Swimming back around like sharks in the water.
The future begins to fade like a dying star.
Leaving the shelter behind, swept away in the storm.
Love came and went. Permeated, then evaporated like the morning fog.
How we longed to be held safe in those arms.
Rocked into safety as the grey melted.
but everything they gave, was taken away.
Leaving the skeleton bones and the residue of knowing.
A maddening knowledge of what the other is.
A long kiss in the desert to feed you water.
The cut on your wrist as you ascend to the surface.
The monsters flare their nostrils and whisper to me.
Asking me what the future should be.
So let it go. Let if dip and disappear like the day’s sun.
The yellowed eye of the universe closing for slumber.
Rebirthed, repackage for tomorrow.
Without the shame of today.

The Day of goodbyes

Falling into a sleep that’s caught between the devil and the deep.
Blue, everything blue blue blue.
These hearts, caught on strings and spun around fingers.
Worn on the sleeves, cut into ribbons.
The world need not worry, the moon cares little.
Little spheres of sadness that fade into the space of time.
But there was that day, that long terrible day of goodbyes.
Cut deep into the soul of existence.
A meteor into the ice of now.
Tears stained, then dried as they are spirited off.
Into unknown lands and parts of their mind.
An aching blue, a neon pain remained.
In the absence of other, a divine emptiness.
Conspired by the fates to lick the face of loss.
Not knowing what they had, until it was gone.

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.

Fables of a beautiful weakness

Tell this story tonight, worn on this face.
Tantric and telling like the birds in flight.
Showing much more than flesh and bone.
Keep it safe, snug in your pocket like a pebble.
Dipped in the gold that is spun from your eyes.
Hold tight.
On to me and all that we have to carry.
Refugees of a dark place we once called home.
Our fabled postcard from the other side.
Slipping down the side of the couch of life.
Forgotten if never mentioned by anyone but ourselves.
Take my hand and dance through the flames.
Kiss me and let us bathe in the rains.
Alive with the magic running in our veins.