Circles around the moon

Wake me when the world ends.
Kill the afterburners and shake me from sleep.
Wipe the dust from my interstellar eyes that have cried, huge cosmic tears.
Flooding the seas.
The dinosaurs within me perished eons ago.
Locked in tar along with childhood dreams of safety.
I staggered lonely in the skeletons of dead monsters.
Picking scales and truths from my worn down teeth.
Fossilised friendships blur past like a comet across my horizon.
Shrivelled on the vine of life, though some plucked too soon.
Dip these eyelashes in turquoise to bejewel our gaze.
Ruby up my mind with a blood of a million dead stars.
Hold a steady distance from the lunar madness.
Carving out cheese for the space monkeys.
Still on the payroll.
I spot you on the surface, with buckets of moon dust and a beckoning hand.
Initiate all power and steer my soul away.
Crying once more as the tears pop around me like bubbles.
Watching the world collapse and the memories fold away.
Locked in the lunar orbit forever.
Making circles around the moon.

Something for the weekend

Looking for something to do this weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in eBook format. Click here to get yours today and spend the weekend wrapped in stars and decaying words.

Looking for something to do next weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in paperback. Click here to get yours in the next few days and spend the following weekend wrapped in the celestial bodies and wandering words.

(‘Echoes in space’ is available worldwide…follow your regional amazon moon rabbit.)

For those who have been kind enough to download this already, may I encourage you to write a review on Amazon and Goodreads to spread the word.

Thank you. Here are some freebies:

SHINE

Crushed to Diamond dust.
Inhaled in the right light.
When the moon is bright.
Deep into your vines I travel.
Filling your soul with stars.

 

You stopped the rain

What becomes of all of us?
Down in the depths, floating on the sea of time.
Who pulls us back? Who throws the ropes of salvation?
She dwelled long and lonely under the waves.
Wrinkling into memory as the salt clogged her bones.
But the dreams wouldn’t fade like a dying star.
The hope threaded around her heart like roots of a tree.
New lips breathed the life back into her.
Tomorrow’s soul and eternity’s hand.
Raised her from her watery grave.
Covering her in love and picking away the scabs of sorrow.
She smiled and laughed as they ignited within the pilot fire.
Which shifted fate, and scared the fish.

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.

This in now your ascent

These eyes, lost in a lonely perfection.
Surrounded by moon dust and a time burnt away.
Never forget where you came from.
The light that sings inside your bones.
You breathe new life into me.
Washing away yesterday, and a history of pain.
I watch your Pisces rising.
Fixing karma and crawling into fate.
Lay down those thoughts that wrap inside me.
Keeping me protected against those solo winds.
Burn the fortress within, and ascend.
Tipping over this night’s sky.

Sweet Whispers

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.’

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A Place in the stars

(Not part of, but in conjunction with ‘Echoes in space’)

Lots of people were afraid. Rationale and irrational fears grew like ivy in the cluttered world he lived in. As Jerimiah grew up, he found fear was just a pat of life. His sister had always been afraid of spiders. Snakes too, though spiders were a more every day hazard, bringing out an alarming response from her no matter who was around. He never forgot the day she found one in her bed when she was going to sleep, the screams had echoed down into the street making the dogs in the neighbour’s yard bark. They had shared a bedroom in the old house then, out of necessity more than anything else. It wasn’t until he was five years old that he had a room of his own. Of course, this came with the collapse of his parent’s marriage and he would have traded in a second the large bedroom at his father’s house, for the pokey one he shared with his sister. At least that way they would still be together. But people, like marriages collapse. His sister departing only a year into his larger bedroom life, not from a spider attack, but from the leukaemia that had corroded her from the inside.

Jerimiah was afraid of one thing, and one thing only. He was afraid of time. How it snuck in on him and those he loved. Snatching away those things, and people he held dear. Turning, tumbling and changing his little world that he would want to keep secret and safe under a bell jar. He would look up into the night’s sky and see the stars blinkering above him. Fixed into position like reliable Christmas lights, always there like the season, waiting to bring joy. It wasn’t until he was much older that he learned the true nature of space. The twirling chaos that attacked the cosmos, with everything in flux. But for that six year boy within him still, he would always see safety and security in the stars. His friends that were always there like jewels in black cement.

Jerimiah though was understanding about people’s fears. He understood why his sister had been afraid of spiders. How her mind would run with a thousand possibilities of what could happen, and the deathly mist that surrounded them and the poisonousness possibilities. Much like he understood people’s fear of flying. He had met an old lady on a flight to Rome once before, sitting in the aisle seat next to him. She was so afraid, her white knuckles had gripped onto the armrest for the duration of the flight, her eyes closed as if in silent prayer to keep her aloft, and to land safely in the eternal city. He had wondered what she was so desperate to live for, what in her life was she so afraid of losing. One’s death being usually a horrible climax of pain and distress, but momentary. What was she so afraid of not completing? What had her life really been about?

He had sat there himself on that small plane, thousands of miles above the French Alps, watching the snow-capped peaks shimmering in the sun. If they were to descend; collapse in a fiery demise and be strewn in wreckage across the snowy landscape, what was he missing out on? What in his life was he left to accomplish or leave behind? He would be missed of course. His partner would be distraught, and tears would be shed. But life would go on, time would cover the hurt up in sand and silence. Changing once more the nature of things.

Time. His biggest enemy.

He had landed in Rome safe and sound, the flight not having crashed like many unfortunate others had. He had quit is job that very day, enjoying a nice little holiday there instead of the work he had come there to do.

If he had known he were to die at the age of thirty three, Jerimiah would probably not have done things much different than he had. He would most likely have avoided a lot more arguments. Those stupid back and forths with people over things that mean nothing to wider universe. He knew time was always against him, under his feet like an escalator he couldn’t stop or slow down. In this way, he lived a full life. He understood the preciousness and fragility of life. He squeezed his partner a bit more when they hugged and kissed. He meant it more when he said I love you. Perfection was not to be a part of his existence on earth, yet Jerimiah saw the bigger picture. It was all a blink in the eye of God, and he knew he had no time to waste.

When at thirty three, he reached the top of the escalator, he glanced over the side to see how far he’d come. It all looked so small and crushable from his vantage point. He was alone, but he wasn’t sad. He could see his friends glittering their celestial magic as diamonds across the inky black. Their luminosity radiant and strong like a million burning suns. And he took his place in the stars, content and happy that the clocks had finally stopped ticking.

Alienation of affection

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.

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.

Crystal trees

Crystal trees ring like a loathing of history.
Vibrating through your bones like a rage of a thousand lifetimes.
Where do you go to, when the day gets dark?
When the glass shatters, and splinters your soul?
Your confetti disposition melts on this tongue.
And floats away in the breeze that comes.
A mountainside gale, blown through snow and alpine air.
Off the twisted roots that spring up like hands pulling you down.
Covering you against the coming storm.
A wandering frost inside these veins, creeps and lows.
Like a tide of shame.
Tinged with the blood rouge of regret.
Whilst you settle on my eyelid like a wandering snowflake.
Offering a glimpse at a thousand dimensions.
And a peek inside my own.
I blink away the sight of you there, covered in attention.
Asking me once more.
Who am I?

Shared spheres

On tarnished minds the earth does rest.
A swallow up in the rafters.
Breaking for the dawn.
The bended knee, the broken back.
How much weight is rested on those weary shoulders?
The magic is hidden young. Robbed when you weren’t looking.
Hidden in anniversary cards and chocolate eggs.
Luscious dreams to melt on your tongue.
But you tip this world over, looking for the things you’ve lost.
Things you never even had.
As you fade into the pages of the book of existence.
A noted inscription against your name.
That you were here, that you breathed and worried.
As that gloom may coil around your ankles.
And the sky temporarily goes grey.
This world will still spin on its aching axis.
A jewel shining against the blackness of space’s muddied windowpane.
And you remember, and never forget.
That we all feel the same.

She dwelt on the moon

She lived up there, where nowhere went.
A sparkled silent sky just for her.
And her dreams and diamonds, all well spent.
As she walked through this world in a blur.
For it was on the moon her soul resided.
In lunar craters she crept and hided.
Watching the world from the safety of space.
Removed and distant, from the maddening human race.

Her own universe

Tuesdays were always difficult. A problem day. A nothing day. All the things wrong in her life seemed to have occurred on that second day of the week. Second for her at least, some people she knew classed Sunday as the first day. What did they know she always thought? She could always gauge how one Tuesday was to unfold anyway, the motivation of Monday dripped away by the evening, making way for another mediocre book-end of days that collected on the shelf of her life. But this Tuesday was different. Different in a similar sort of way, like driving down a road that you’ve never been down before, yet knowing there will be a dead end.
The rain had done it’s best to encourage her to stay at home that day, the wind whipping up a sizeable storm outside her windowpane to keep her safely tucked inside watching the world come to a watery end. The promise of a good book by her small cosy fire was not enough of a lure it seemed, to keep her from going over to see her mother. She lived on the other side of town, which in itself was not a large body of houses, you could cross to the other side in about ten minutes by car. However, Jackie didn’t own a car and she didn’t drive. She was much too anxious to be let loose in a world where maniacs were given licenses to speed along invisible racetracks.

So that day, the Tuesday day; she braved the weather and made her way to her mother’s house. She was prepared for the storm, and had dispensed on the cumbersome umbrella that would no doubt pick her up and whisk her away to Oz. Instead, she was bundled up so tight and so well she looked like a yeti wading through the small streets, caring not to the cars that splashed by her on their own personal adventures.

She’d had the ominous feeling since breakfast, that something was out of sync that day. The weather was the first warning, the second being her hands which had been shaking since she had tried to spoon the cornflakes into her mouth for breakfast. The tiny pieces of cereal had fallen all around her bowl like tiny bits of cardboard on a craft mat. She’d taken a pill and all had seemed fine, though she couldn’t shake the feeling. It stuck to her like the film of milk left on an emptied glass.

She thought more of it now, watching a black cat dart out from under someone’s parked car on the side of the street. Unaccustomed to being out in the wet weather, it glared at her as it made its way to the safety of a porch of the house she passed. The feeling was itching away at her insides now, and she quickened the pace towards her mother’s house.

“Mum, it’s me” She called into the small little cottage. Her mother never locked her doors, refusing to believe she was living in the 21st century, still half expecting friendly neighbours to pop in to see how she was doing and borrow sugar. She closed the door and locked it firmly behind. “Mum?”. But there was no reply. The house wasn’t quiet though. It groaned and shunted in the storm, and in the rooms away some pipes gurgled into their own orchestral concert. She took off her jacket, hanging it up on the coat hook by the front door. She passed by the picture of her father, nestled into a neatly polished silver frame, greeting anyone who entered her mother’s kingdom with a smile and a look of knowing.

At her feet she felt Apollo brush past her, gliding through the hallway like a streak of fur. Her mother had had her since she was a kitten, given to her by one of the ladies she played bingo with down at the village hall. She’d always said she was more of dog person, but she secretly, Jackie suspected, adored that cat; who took great pride of place throughout her mother’s well organised life. Apollo meowed noisily and scuttled off towards the conservatory.

“Mum, you about?” she called out again. Holding back the alarm now that had convened on her feeling of ill and dreed since the morning. She followed the cat to the back of the house, the rain thundering hard down onto the conservatory roof, tining and thundering through the back room.

There she saw her mother, slumped on the side of her high backed chair. A stranger would have guessed she was sleeping, but Jackie knew her better than that, and though she couldn’t help it, she hung back for a moment, bracing her emotions for the tidal of grieve that was to come.

There was a slow rumble of thunder coming from outside, the ferociousness of the storm was waiting in the wings still, about to set forth it’s lasered dance of lightning and noise. She brushed the loose hair that had fallen over her mother’s face, the greying sight of age that hung loose and lifeless. Her eyes were closed she noticed, and a huge part of her was relieved to think that she had felt no pain.

She was sat in the centre of the conservatory just by her huge astromic telescope that she had bought herself a few years ago. Anyone who came to the house always thought it was decorative. The type of thing high end department stores sell for obscure aesthetics to those with more taste than knowledgeable inclination. One look around to spot the kitschy frog ornaments and dusty fake flowers would be enough to tell you it wasn’t one of those. This was an actual telescope, and her mother simply adored star gazing. She would sit out here, and sometimes in the garden on the warmer nights, and gaze up into the heavens. She knew all of the constellations of course, and would set Jackie’s niece Angela on her lap when she came over and try to find the planets for her, even in the day.

Her mother sat there now, an empty shell in that high back chair, her hand on her notepad with some scribblings of her night’s recent gazing. Apollo jumped up and sat on her lap, wafting the smell of her perfume up into Jackie’s nostrils, flaring up memories and loss. She cried there then, for about twenty minutes, her hand in her mother’s as she said her goodbyes. She wondered what to do after, going over to her mother’s phone in the kitchen to ring her brother to tell him what had happened. Seeing in her mind’s eye the next 24hrs unfolding in a terrible depressive snapshot of time.

She put the phone back in its cradle and instead went to the kettle and made herself a cup of tea. She sat with her mother for the rest of the day, until the sun slipped out of the sky and darkness descended. The storm had long ago blown itself into oblivion, making way for the tranquil stillness that comes after a hurricane. Jackie had done the same, allowing the moments and thoughts of despair to be swept away in the stormy waters.

She looked up through the telescope to see the stars dancing above in their diamond beauty, and then she got to work.

She reached up through the telescope and grabbed the black duvet of space. Some stardust sprinkled her hands like glitter off a birthday card. She heaved and pulled and dragged the galaxy down to earth where she and her mother sat in that conservatory on that infamous Tuesday. She tugged and dragged, scaring poor Apollo with her grunts and sighs, who dived behind her mother’s cardigan which she had wrapped around her body, stiffening slowly as she slipped into rigor mortis. When she had what she needed, she drew it around her mother, blanketing her in the sea of stars. The ones she had longed for all her life. Wrapping her tightly like a swaddled child, in a stars and space. Keeping her safe forever in the place she loved.

Unchained symphony

And she landed, a million miles from where she begun.
By the setting sun.
Casting its long shadow over a dying beast.
A monster of misogyny and inequation.
Scratching the head of those scholared men.
Who wrote the rule book, who watch now as it burns.
Sending their eyes to fire and ashes towards the deep.
A sinking ship of the unrighteous, captain rats going down with their pride.
She thinks of them not, as she stretches over oceans and space.
Checking in the borrowed time of her mother’s generation.
Her grandmother’s tenacious hope, that all will be put right.
Twitch your ears, and soar your spirit into the unknown.
Liberated from the yoke of self-doubt.
Tired of walking on egg shells.
She can be found, if you care to look.
Out on the rocks, away from the lighthouse.
Far from the maddening crowd, holding tight.
Covered in jewels and perspiration.
Forging a new world for those yet to be.

Lost in gravity

Touch the sky, feel it shake.
Trembling in your hands like fragility.
Sweet feathered blue expanse.
The planets collide and shatter, raining down on your skin.
I lick them up. Following the line up to your universe of lips.
This satellite orbiting you.
Feeling the cracks and crater within me that you foster.
Dipping my scars in ink.
Holding them forever in that back drop of the space between us.
Lost in the black void of the unknown.
And yet there is light, there are flickers from God.
The Darwinian emergence of the hope that crawls, like me towards you.
Wiping the DNA and moon dust across your face as I whisper;
I am just like you.

Matter/shatter

If we’re talking
about hope.
These simple things should matter.
We are matter.
We are blood.
We are all wet underneath.
Which skin matters?
This one cuts. This life shatters.
03.47; call my name.
Blur and hum.
You see it in my eyes.
I’m not ashamed,
to say.
That all the Gods drip down the same.
And enter our purple veins.
Which one is better?
We are all
fragile.
Please handle with care.
And stare,
and care.
For their heart is on your hand.
Precious matter.
Jehovah or Allah.
Peace be upon us.