Tuesday 29 July 2008

Summer rain.


Summer rain

breaking the heat

lightly caressing your

skin

the soft lush grass

pushing between

toes

as the

image of you

lifts

me -

lifts me.


Honey hair

a summer

smile a

brassiere strap

falling onto a

shoulder with a

promise

the shimmering of your

pleated skirt

inviting

inviting.



something in the way

you move…..

capturing me -

capturing

me.

White steps

I never actually saw my mother with

a cock in her mouth, but I could have done –

Arms in Belfast sinks full of pots - hour

after hour - clothes boiling on the

gas hob – the smell enough to tarnish poverty

itself.


I never actually saw her like

that - but remember her fingers burning

on that cast smoothing iron the spit zipping off.


Ladling plate after plate of porridge

to hungry mouths – sat around an open

fire – like birds in a nest - vests stretched over

scabby knees broken fruit boxes burning

too swiftly and gone – ashes.


I never ever saw her like that - yet

life dealt her and her kind an evil hand -

drunken men in every house whilst Bairn’s went

hungry - wives painted white steps in their

back-to-backs while the secrets stayed behind

closed doors and minds were ruined - twisted for-

ever.


I never saw my mam with a cock in

her mouth – not with my eyes anyway.


Just the rats scurrying in rain filled

gutters feeding on the rancid vomit

of man.

Sunday 20 July 2008

True Soldiers


Pull the string – flick the switch

True Soldiers never did this

No Virgins - just your head over

There

a look of startled surprise

Killing women – little kids

True Soldiers never did this.


Warriors – crusaders – martyrs

Pick your tag - put you in

A body bag

Then clear up your murderous mess

True soldiers never did this.






Pick a cause – any cause

Like cards out a pack

Listen to the clever one’s rant

Poison your mind while you

Suck them off

Then walk slowly to your wasted death

True Soldiers never did this.


And the tomorrow of another

Fool - certain of everlasting life

Is waiting in your steps

To once again slaughter as many

As he can

True Soldiers never did this.

A small death.



There was no wailing

screaming

groaning

no precipice

just some small death on

the other side of

town.


A sad silent

loss

anonymous -

quietly slipping

away a lost

footing on

a cobbled street.


Death - a sad sack

the

last heavy breath

now the

hopelessness

of

a cold touch - on his

headstone

Names engraved

on cold

marble an

immortal script.


An empty vase

sits whilst

somewhere

nails screech on

a

blackboard


A small death

the other

side of

town.

This.



I’m sharing your night as the

secret rain pains across open

windows

your eyes hold on to me

as your fingers try to get into skin

my chest - my back your

sad, lonely, eyes already

there.


Together, alone – between us

just

the dark - we are soothed by

the hiss of passing cars

on cold wet roads,

yellow lights slowly dance

around the room and on your

honey skin - you

sigh and I know this

- this.


Thoughts, hopes,

chase across a void

some empty mind - I

tremble while cold alleys

echo

we hold each other

still. I feel your ankles

crisscross my flank

as I soften inside of

you.


Together we share each

other –

this

feeling

a slow pealing scab

from healing skin. You

me and the night –

This.
This.

And a single

Tear.

Friday 4 July 2008

Dorset girl.

You’re with me

down lonely lanes

the sweet scent of

wild Honeysuckle -

Pink Foxgloves

tip-i-toeing

‘look-at-me’

you say –

you’re with me.


You’re with me in

the soft collapse of

every breaking wave

a light mysterious

breath -

caresses me a

gentle kiss your

crystalline reflection -

you’re with me.


You’re with me as I pull

the lonely crumpled sheets

across bare shoulders

while quiet shadows close in

a strange moonlight lulls

me to sleep-

you’re with me.


You’re with me at night,

Pink Valerian dreams

as we love again in

fields of Meadowsweet

you’re with me.