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.
From the dust into dreams. Singledust has a new poetry book out now, I encourage all with an imagination to take a peek……
‘Sweet whispers is poetry inspired by words spoken between two lovers in the early hours of waking as hearts warm together. It is also taken from an intense dialog between lovers against the back drop of snow and words of unrequited love.’
The universe is about to fall, corrode, and collapse.
You’ve been warned……
(New poetry book coming soon)
What takes us higher?
High above the world with soundless intentions.
Watching it all from space.
Feeling the pin pricks from a detached state.
What robbed you away?
Spirited into the shadows like a train into a tunnel.
Hearing the echoing of loss follow like a can around my ankle.
A bell around your soul.
Ringing the chorus of a dawn so open and alone.
A rising sun, tinged with the blood of the night.
My compass spin on indecision, magnetised and hypothesised,
Concluding this circumstance beyond such control.
Our strands unwind, and without you I move at random.
Paralysed into a time that the world built up around me.
Gravity gives in, and we lose our grip.
Shutting down the stars and drifting into a sweet disappearance in space.
The loneliest way to die.
They burnt the bed after watching you sleep.
What clothes do you wear now?
All the same. Sweet sad reframe.
Excuses and choices which wear you out.
Dream, do you? Dream of another necessity.
A paper heart.
Or a Christmas tree.
Sleeping another cycle, till loved once again.
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.
Those words they buried.
The thorny ones with discontent.
Maligned manners from blackened hearts.
They rotted in my mind.
In that grey earthy soil.
Those tears they watered.
Digging down deep to the black pit of my soul.
Like potatoes which found the light.
Deep in the dark such acorns of defiance sprouted.
Filling my bones with vines and life.
So now I prune, and potter.
I bask in the shade of a cooling tree.
That borne within me.
My arboretum of solitude.
My tree of life with bark as tough as nails.
And leaves that never turn, despite the season.
Or the early winter you threaten.
What do you see in those darkening skies?
I clasp my hands to my eyes when the thunder cracks.
Are those tears, or just the rain on your face?
They never saw this storm coming, they dressed for sun that day.
The earth grieves and sighs. Spinning into another time.
Forever spinning on an axis no-one designed.
Vibrating in space, a billions miles of nothing in all directions.
Something changed. A fire was lit.
A swelling sea of distaste and rage.
The circus tiger tied to the ground for too long.
Chewing its leg off to escape.
Fires spread like a spark in the bush. Setting it all to sunder.
Setting things to rights.
Heaven will sigh and the sky will break.
The devil has had its day.
Tearing down the buildings, the houses on the hill.
A rebellion of love, shooting words that comfort.
All this pain, all this hurt; to wake up a nation.
Surviving the eye of the hurricane.
All this was a prelude to peace.
Inside my hands, gold and diamonds sparkle.
Their shine fades in your eyes.
Reduced to lead and coal.
Out of my tongue sweet words trickle.
Caught up with cotton candy and sincerity.
Such bitter tastes to your ears.
I offer my heart, the most valued treasure.
And all you see is an organ of despair.
Sounding such sombre music.
With its dying rasps.
Yet still you owe me nothing in return.
That day we all remember.
Covered in lust and tragedy.
Spinning each world on our finger, while the galaxy sighed.
Creeping my way to heaven.
Those bread crumbed hearts the devil left out.
Leading a trail to beds of graves, such frozen landscapes ahead.
That hunkering down for the winter.
You were so scared of girls.
Asking for answers from no-one there.
Just an empty call in a lonely forest.
A tiny touch of lunacy.
Brought on by the moon and the rising blood.
Shackled to thoughts of someone else.
Another’s dreams. A place only they could call home.
How you hoped to kiss away that sin.
Wondering if this was how it felt.
How it felt to be wanted.
Needed for a moment in time.
Crawling on the ceiling of resistance.
Clawing at the hands of fate.
Forgetting girls always kiss and tell.
All year round he kept to himself.
Quiet and content, like a book on a shelf.
It was Halloween when the tables turned.
And in his head, those thoughts had churned.
To live it up, go mad and wild.
To put on costumes, like any other child.
He loved that night, when he fitted in.
And wasn’t shamed or drenched in sin.
He could go out, and talk to others.
His friends, his mum and all his brothers.
Accepted him and played for ages.
Some souls to flick through his dusty pages.
It was Halloween he loved and longed for.
The candy, the skulls; the dismembered gore.
That was the time he loved the most.
For poor Charlie was such a lonely ghost.
When it rained silver, I yearned to fly.
Broken winged and feathered down.
Patching this ache that intertwined.
You throw your shadow over time.
Then force this need, looks me in the eye.
That terrible force that begins to take hold.
Once more, this feeling.
Begin this flutter with splintered souls.
Feeling it splutter.
These heaves of my heart.
I wonder now, and breathe then cry.
A falling star.
A fading sigh.
I still have the taste of you on my lips.
Consumed in passion.
Chapped in reason.
Digesting the sorrow for a day.
As the bones of us melt in my stomach.
And we start the dance once again.
Watching the horizon through tempered glass.
Silhouettes that block out the sun.
Only for a moment.
A moment too long.
The flames lick at his desk, eating away the wood.
Tapping on his soul.
They corrode the walls around him.
Destroying fibreglass and dreams of tomorrow.
He tries to block out the voices.
Scratching inside his skull like rats in a well.
Closing his eyes. Out through the glass.
Trying not to think about the ground.
Going to the place a million miles away.
A place his family dwells.
He feels the rush through his bones.
The ache of his heart.
The monstrous shadow of hate.
Oil soaked fingers opening Pandora’s box to fate.
That hostile future carved out by domestic architects.
In his long way down.
His final symphony of strings and sirens.
Crumpling into the dust as he sets himself free with a final tear.
Watching from above moments later.
As the realm and the buildings melt.
Not looking for anything to interrupt this morning.
Yet came it did.
Hurried through these bones like a freight train.
Cutting me deep.
Such hurt on the telephone.
Transistor tears and unravelling years.
Wiping away tomorrow.
Not letting me.
Melted down like mediocrity.
One wish was to take me to higher ground.
To say goodbye.
As the waves lapped at my feet.
Down to the water’s edge.
Beneath the willow and the sadness.
He stopped his world for a while.
No hand to pull him back.
Only invisible fingers pushing him forward.
Reeling in his mind like spinning wheels.
He lay on the cold bank.
Shedding his tears into deeper pools.
Pouring out his misery and loneliness.
Until he drowned the flying fish.
An ice crept across the water.
Licking his bones and sealing his eyes tight.
His heart caught between a beat and a break.
Hurrying this ice-age that would sweep the world away.
Yet he does not dwell unobtainably with the gods.
Or at the end of a book to placed on the shelf.
His small pool of sorrow lies within.
Every time the change of seasons ring.
Each day your body sways and splits..
He aches once more for the shore.
Coughing on the brick dust.
This sanctuary you’ve housed us in.
Licking the light that shines through the stained teared windows.
You cover me in everything.
You wrap me around you like a piece of string.
Feeling the blood pump through these veins.
Skin on skin. Lips to lips.
With an infinity smile you harken me forward.
Out of this church of our hearts.
The fresh mountain air hits my lungs.
Breathing in the butterfly breath of your exhale.
You tomorrow’s sigh.
Hand gripped and stable. Grounded when I was falling apart.
Steadied my soul.
And when I was letting go, you let me fly.
She fought those tears.
Trembling in her aqua eyes.
Threatening to betray the inner madness.
Her return from Saturn paved such starry ways.
Words were useless now to her.
Her hands she griped onto the planet.
Sinking her fingers into the rich earth beneath her.
To leave and return was worse than never vacating this place.
This spinning globe of talk and toil.
Shaking her head once more she sighed.
She shook the oceans from her ears and the spat out lava like a volcano.
Temperament to sizzle and burn away the unholy.
She never had wings, yet she knew how to fly.
She never saw death, but knew she could die.
Running to the forest, she evaporated into the mist.
Breathed in by the pines, brought down in the next rains.
How to rise, when you’re broken.
Like lofty branches that scratch the sky.
Down here on the forest floor, tangled with the roots.
I feel collapsed. I feel free.
I want to tear it apart.
I had to burn it down.
Pick the thorns out of my bark, the chattel from my teeth.
Swaying with the world now. Rising on its axis.
I swing to a new realm, on the pendulous heartbeat of tomorrow.
I allowed myself to fall apart.
Welcoming the termites of time. Destroying all I had.
Whilst watching the watchers in the wings.
Birds who fly with nightshade plumage.
Cluck their tongues and talk of responsibilities.
Laying eggs for a farmer who will devour their friends.
You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I grew through.
Such hard terrain and unholy winters. Sprouting to my own spring chorus.
You don’t know me, how could you?
I don’t even know myself.
Sitting on the edge, of a dream within a dream.
Tangles my mind like cobwebs.
Strings my heart to the moon.
Walk with me a while.
Dehydrate the sorrow away.
As we move closer to the sun.
Touch my fingertips where tiny dragons dance.
Careful like sweet kisses upon the one you love.
Softly, but holding back such passion.
Crawl inside and count the stars.
Each beat of this heart is for you.
Stanley wanted nothing more.
Then a pair of new trainers, like the boy next door.
So he went to the shops and emptied his pockets.
But some coins, a tissue and small toy rocket.
Could not amount to the high priced brand.
And he was asked to leave by the security man.
So Stanley went away for a while.
But then came back, with a cheeky smile.
And he stole those shoes, from right under their nose.
And wore them home, in such comfortable toes.
But alas, this was not the end for Stanley.
Who began to steal more things, which made him feel manly.
He moved on to televisions and peddling dope.
At only 15, he was beyond all hope.
Of ever being on the straight and narrow.
Hitting the underworld, fast like an arrow.
So don’t surprised if you come across Stan.
Shoplifting in Tesco or hot wiring a van.
For if you try to talk him, set out a plan.
He’ll flip you the finger, and steal your gran.
(Crime doesn’t pay…always)
This room aches, the phone pulses.
Brighter than heaven in my eyes.
Sounds from memories claw in my head.
You came to me, twisted like a question mark.
Lay me down. Drag me out.
Scorch my soul and heart.
Your open hands look like doorways to another realm.
The power to smother and choke.
Offering such positions and excuses.
Wringing out my patience and love.
Tin cans flying above your eyelids.
Tap me online. Central station where you found them.
What did you need?
Cheap lipstick and coffee kisses. Tied to a tree.
Blank cds spinning on a turntable.
The world aches. This film runs on. Flash. Snap.
Like rocks in your pocket. Lies on your lips.
Freeway lights deep within the lake.
Those kisses have been marked (what you should have done)
Grass on your knees. Dancing devils on your shoulder.
I need this now. I forget this all.