FMS Pictures & Poetry

With pocket deuces I cling
To your bluffing kiss
In shades of candlelight,
Humouring again
One more pretty blonde -
Some things don't have to change.

And with the badly dubbed movie
We both sat through
(Accents misplaced all around)
Clarity fell
On my stubborn ears -
Some things don't have to change.

With the deepest regrets
Comes a humbling
And my blood flows effortlessly
As martyrs fall
From grace to the leaves
Some things don't have to change.

And with the face of summer
Begging to God,
All mocking blown aside,
Sincerity's found
Among our humblest friends -
Some things don't have to change.

Fickle lady luck :

She offers cash whilst taking

Liberties on lives.

You each had your moment
And I remember your kisses;
Each proclamation of adoration
That I willingly returned
And that, at the time of my passing
(As might be recorded
In the pocket-book of some
Mid-ranking officer),
I wish to draw in tears
Or as a lasting epitaph ā€“
Insincere verse punctuated with
The desperate, pathetic gravity
Of a true sense of loss and regret,
As if quoted from the scribbling
Of another frantic gambler
Writing out one more I.O.U.
In the blood of his very own kinsmen
After a single wager too many.

Perhaps it could be noted
That it all meant so much
For a time :
Somewhere between missing her
And missing you.
Or just missing the focus,
The sharpening of senses of
Sight and smell and touchā€¦
Clumsily stroking with hands and lips -
Kisses that drown out the bustle
Of another otherwise unremarkable night
Where we conduct our very own romance
Barely noticing the disgusted glances
Or the sarcastic gestures that advise us
To ā€˜get a roomā€™.
But we had nothing to hide,
From each other at least,
We knew where the line would be drawn.
I saw it in your eyes
And your words tell it still,
Although shielded by lies of pride.

Words to draw tears
From my weak eyes
Unflinchingly fall from your tongue ā€“
Words of another love
And another life;

A life and a love
That exists beyond realms
Of this shallow existence ā€“
A reality from which
I wonā€™t escape
Without new revolutions
Of the heart;

A life and a love
Of no contemplation
That draws tears from my eyes
In its overbearing presence;
A presence that lies
With the tears in my eyes...

Those tears in my eyes
That confess and deny
Stalling lyrics of reprise
That kill as they ease :
A life and a love
Of words that draw tears.

There are some things in life I donā€™t miss.

I donā€™t miss the darkness
Of not knowing you ā€“
That terrifying moment
When my eyes adjust
With rapidly inflating pupils
Tunnelling deep into past
And I realise
Iā€™m in a room of shadows
Alone.


Did I ever thank you?

Did I ever thank you
For guiding me to the door;
For your inherent bravery
And strength
That led us together
To a new, brighter future
Of love and siblinghood,
Of compassion and mutual-respect
That left the years
Of darkness behind?


And so, for my sight :

For my sight
I can only be grateful
For without this illuminating glow
Of a thousand leisurely visits
To the bustle of your welcoming home,
Exchanging pictures and words,
A narrative in our time ā€“
ā€˜Saidsā€™ and tales,
Here's and there's,
Longitudes and latitudes
And a vision of life
Through much younger eyes...

Without all this
I may never have known
That in the gloom and silence
Of a much regretted past
As in these days
Of cherished wonder
You were there all along.

Following ridges scratched into sky
By sun dog cloud lines,
I'm guided Southward
Over pastures unknown :
Cruel, deserted lands
(so they have us believe)
To an old friend's adopted home.

Arriving safely right now
Without fear or thought
Of the hijackers,
Wearing garments of wool,
I'm refreshed from within
(a place rarely seen)
A few spare moments before the cull.

Footprints dance
On their spotlit stage
In the sky.

~*~

In springtime winds
Pink blossom falls
Like confetti
Where I stand
And they lay
Silent.

Rose glitter shines
From softened flakes
Like perfect words;
Sentiments in crystal
Raining unto you -
Graceful confessions.

And when spring
Breezes depart
Leaving a carpet
Of tears,
I look once more
Skyward.

Dear Shell ā€“


These words, on your tank, that Iā€™ve written
I feel really must be aired
ā€˜Cause, although we were both once smitten,
A fissure in love is rarely repaired ā€“
Ever since you set eyes on my kitten
Iā€™ve seen that you never truly cared.

My Mum warned me about your type
But I just didnā€™t want to hear.
She was talking a load of tripe;
She didnā€™t know of my feelings sincere.
Alas, now I understand her gripe
When, at you, through the glass I would leer.

But a man canā€™t control his desires
When it comes to his basic needs
And I suspect that my friends are just liars ā€“
They say they donā€™t hear your pleads
For me to stroke you, stoking internal fires
That smoke out my little love seeds.

Our courtship was quite a tale ā€“
One thatā€™s been retold in many a book :
At first I just couldnā€™t fail
To be attracted by your oily look
And it seemed too good to be real
That you fancied a bite on my hook.

Yes, a hooker you were back then
And Iā€™d peep at your sexy gills
But I knew, through the study of Zen,
That Iā€™d work through my need for cheap thrills
And build us our own little den ā€“
You could live there and Iā€™d pay the bills.

Since that day weā€™ve been happy enough ā€“
Youā€™ve lived on a diet of my special seed..
Iā€™d flash my sword fish and stand in the buff
And youā€™d mouth words telling me to proceed
With a few moments of the rough, sweaty stuff
To provide you a nice, salty feed.

But now the honeymoon is over
As you just sit there all day in your tank
So, although Iā€™ve never been a wild rover,
I found someone else who hasnā€™t sank
From being an unstoppable sex supernova
To rather an unsatisfactory wank :

Sheā€™s a flat-fish and quite a catch.
Like a magnet, she went for my pole;
No need to bait my rod for this snatch ā€“
Her fish fingers were straight up my hole.
So when you leave can you please drop the latch :
Iā€™ve hooked up with a beautiful sole!

FIN

New couples near by
Casually waited on each other
Like laundry hanging
On blue, plastic lines
When you hooked my attention
From the queue where
I was borrowing time.
You fed me questions and answers,
In that old, leading style,
About him being yours
And if youā€™ll ever be mine,
Clasping my hand with your fingers;
Another duplicitous sign.

Youā€™ll be there by my side
On my friendā€™s wedding day ā€“
Or so you say.
I donā€™t recall your request
Or whether you took interest
In my intentions at all.
But, an uncle again,
Iā€™ll sit by your side -
No fear and no pride
Nor complaints reside
In the place where I hide
Secretly holding the tide.

But weā€™ll be together again -
And a small drink wonā€™t hurt
The singing and laughter
We share.
With gratitude Iā€™ll find
In each and every glass,
Fully drained but kind,
A wee dram of scotch
Haunting my mind
With answers youā€™ll never have heard
To questions I just canā€™t let pass.

Would I "have sex" with you
Given different circumstance
(or just half a chance)
And do I really fancy you more?
Will our bodies always be shared,
Carved and scorched 'til we're whole
Or is there little that we share at all?
And am I in love with you,
Investing all passion, all being and all self?
Do you really need to know
Or are you in love with yourself?

They enter, one more couple
With their kids in tow :
A new born baby boy.
Her bastard son also.
Remarks come from the sideline
Comparing eyes, mouths and noses.
Not a word of how much different
Are the elder sonā€™s poses
And of the ladā€™s obnoxious manner
Few words are ever uttered
Directly to the parentsā€™ ears
Although Iā€™m sure Iā€™ve heard it muttered
Between the righteous and the proud
Guardians of so-and-so,
Sharing expensive wines and lines :
Gossip and merlot.
Of course, no ranks are broken
As bonds grow ever stronger :
Smiths and Browns stand united
And the closed family is no longer.
Favours are exchanged
With chit-chat and a smile.
Wondering hands and fingers
Start reaching for the dial;
Names and numbers passed along
Tenuous fragile threads
Among the near chaos
Of noisy kids and Uncle Teds.
And then the inevitable question
(Iā€™ve been waiting on all day)
Enquiring as to just how long,
If I was really pressed to say,
It might be before I join them
In idle chat of kids and homes :
When will my existence be validated
In the fitting of pines and chromes?

An awkward silence leaves
Me wondering if Iā€™m real;
If Iā€™ll only be accepted
Once Iā€™ve made that particular deal.
A certain truth appals and repels :
That Iā€™m seen as a stride or two
Behind the folks present today,
And they even state it, too.
Now it could be that the grapes
Are somewhat past their best
But, with their comparing jobs, wives, nappies and cars,
I can leave this party at rest.

When I doubt love exists
Yet inside ache to hold you,
When I lie to myself
And Iā€™m quick to scold you,
When I avert my gaze
So as not to behold you,
Iā€™ve known
You are who I am.

When I cry silent tears
That will never reach you,
That slice through my eyes
Begging me to beseech you,
When I search for your soul
Knowing Iā€™ll never breach you,
I know
You are who I am.

And in the stillness of night
As I sing my song to you,
When I fear our parting
And all Iā€™ve done wrong to you,
When I abandon myself
And accept I belong to you,
Iā€™ll know
You are who I am.

Taking an early stroll
To those places most dear to me,
As if already in a poem,
I step back to welcome new acquaintances,
Maybe friends one day
If I make it happen,
To the backdrop of silhouettes
Laying upon one another,
Shrouded in every conceivable shade of grey,
In front and behind
Like a picture postcard
Revealing those attractive things
In rush hour we all forget.

Scenes of a child
In a playground,
Alone again and staring wondrously
Across the unknown
From a makeshift grandstand
Relentlessly holding him back
From freedom beyond the railings
To that place beneath the trees
Or just across the road,
A setting of friendly faces,
Of calm and still contentment
Where only his shadow could reach
As his mind is distracted by yet more pressures
Away from his silent retreat
To "Chimp and Toad" or whatever
And the rattle of marbles
In a thin, mustard, cotton bag
As it falls to the ground where
In such a short period
He will long to return.

And as my journey comes to an end,
As if mirroring my self-condemnation,
A single plane crosses the sky
Humming unsteadily through curtains
To an uncertain future,
A destiny only dictated by my strength
To battle again for everything
I fought so hard to gain before
Through the pain and ridicule,
Self-doubt and the rejection of others.
Indeed, there are wars yet to be won.

Waiting again, again
For things to move,
Dreading every moment.
Wishing they'd return to me,
Hush to silence
Quiet of birdsong and peaceful water.
A little too blissful,
Anxious just as if it were the first time,
Pigheaded and arrogant they think
Or I think.

Meaningless, helpless moments passing by
Wasted on me.
On me
So much has gone to waste
One way or another,
Scattered, symmetrical,
Blowing freely,
Falling rigidly
Through and through,
Gracefully painless and idealistic,
Leaving me standing,
Almost leaning
If I only knew which way,
Bare, fruitless,
Embittered with cold,
No quirks or anecdotes to protect me
Now they're all in the distance
Glittered with frost,
Beautiful and childlike
Unfairly disappointing
Given the velocity -
Coming up for too quickly
Leaving me no route to avoid -
An inevitable shake,
Tremors everywhere
Me me fall to my knees,
Pitiful...
Self-piteous,
Sniffling,
Saying my piece
But not too loud
'Cause it's a privilege
And I'm entitled to it :
Shouting, screaming,
Crying out loud
For mercy and for sorrow
And to ease the guilt
Because I deserve it,
Grasping, clinging,
Fighting to hang on
In vain because I've already lost.
There's no stopping it.

51 years have passed.
The sea keeps rolling in,
Roaring like thunder of ammo
Rushing from my brother's gun -
A last, vain effort
To protect this border
Under stormy skies.
A song is sung for the dead,
A requiem, as we huddle
Around the door together
Hoping for something warm
And an open fire if we're lucky;
A little bit of peace
Away from flashes and screams
As another man falls -
Someone else's brother
Or son or father
Falling into eternal sleep,
So deep eyes will never open
To see hurt and pain
And sickness of losing someone.

And as the rain starts to fall
Gently on this land
We remember the good times
And the people who shared them.

And so we depart once again.
You quietly say "Bye then."
As you lift from the seat,
Only petite,
Like my whiskey's only neat,
As a stranger you go.
Not a friend, not a foe.

Do not weep over your Daddy
'Cause he'll always be in that place
More pure and holy than any
Where angels gather
Filling the air
With the most beautiful of part-song
So even the thornbird stops its search
To listen,
And look enchanted
At he in the centre of a blinding light,
Watching over us all
And caring for all our brothers.

Maybe you've landed on Venus
But where is our share of the love,
All glorious and good?
Sent 3rd class parcel force
By the lord himself
Or perhaps sweet Mary isn't telling
All she knows about his greatness,
So considerately allowing
Freedom of choice and action,
Mostly, at least.

Everyone's got a plot at Arthur's place -
That allotment of life where we all,
One way or another, make a base.
And I can still see your face
With a gleaming smile n'all,
Gazing admirably at that waterfall.
And they're all trying to highlight their
Spots but I know you were ours in heart
'Cause you're always in my lair -
It's only fair
Because we're both trapped from the very start;
You're with me in the name of art.

And now we'll roam the hills forever,
Running and playing in the snow
Before 'altogether' manages to sever
The end of this quickly corroding teather
But, of course, I know
Because I have a damn good tow.
And as they all line up mutually facing,
Aiming their weapons of pillage
My heart is always racing
As I wonder about my moral basing.

Joe Bloggs used to spend
Much of his hard-earned brass
On beer and clothes and to send
Love letters to his lass.

All went well until one day
That dramatically changed his life -
The ship at last had left its bay,
Cutting through water like a knife.

Almost unnoticed his switch was flicked.
Unnoticed, that is, to him.
He was there and the clocks still ticked
But the bright light was somehow dim.

Slowly, slowly time passes by.
It almost makes you want to die.
Things come and go but are always there.
Things that stay crumble and tear.

The buildings are made of all things red.
Nothing lives. All is dead.
I understand the questions but that's all.
I feel as if I'm not on the ball.

The girl takes a momentary glance.
It strikes me like a cold, sharp lance.
It's just as much your guess as mine :
Is she happy? Is she fine?

Spin the plate, spin the plate
And let the friction decide your fate!
If it stops a little late
You could be eating Grandma's cake!

In one part there's grilled mussel.
In another chips and peas
That are sure to make you full
And one has assorted frogs' shins and knees!

If you're lucky you may get
Chicken curry with fried rice
But dare you stand and place your bet?
Dare you roll the dice??

In the dark stands a lonely hill -
Really no more than a bump.
I stand and watch, my eyes fill,
In my throat grows that cancerous lump :
A retched emotional dump.

Through the swirling mist I see
Ever so faintly he,
A figure swaying up there
Attached to a disfigured tree
Like from the ring, a key.

Clearing my lens comes further shock,
Approaching the man yet closer
It becomes apparent on his clock,
Half covered with ragged fur,
He bore a smile under.

He may have paid a small fee
By swaying from that tree
But at least now he's free.

Motion
Driven away
By marmalade snowflakes
Hushing words of its presence to
Whispers.

Four years on you did it again ā€“
You shattered my modest piece of heaven,
Under the moon, the stars and the sun;
Shattered me. Shattered me!
Holding your hand was all I could stand ā€“
Itā€™s covered in that Irish dance.
You never would let me
Finish my song. Finish my song!
You just couldnā€™t take the chance.

Itā€™s not about love
Cause my love is everlasting.
You canā€™t ever understand ā€“
Itā€™s not about understanding.

You were the first I saw in my dreams.
Iā€™m supposed to be the repressed one.
Things are rarely what they seem :
You ought to know I canā€™t blaspheme.
It was easy to deny
Reflections shining in your eye
Even when I foresaw
The hand youā€™d deal
And the pain Iā€™d feel.
You think you love me ā€“
You love him more.

But itā€™s not about love... ETC.

I canā€™t help wondering
If youā€™ll look back some day
And Iā€™m curious :
Even then will you say..?

Itā€™s not about love... ETC.

No, itā€™s not about love
Cause his love is everlasting.
You canā€™t ever understand.
Heā€™s above any understanding.

Reluctant again to leave my side,
She lay there in the bed
She said was just for me.

* * *

Voyeurism dominated
Every minute of each hour ā€“
I looked upon her breasts.

* * *

Like last time we ate,
Melancholy songs accompanied
The cooking of poultry.

* * *

We played games of chance
With seemingly high stakes
And I longed weā€™d win.

* * *

I scratched her back
As she requested
And felt her hot, moist skin.

* * *

We touched like aged lovers
With libido lost in past
But conducting the present.

* * *

Her ambition professed,
My desires were confessed
But her needs were not clear.

* * *

Stark nudism designed
An evening devoid of contact
Of a sexual nature.

The pastel cotton of your
Revealing dress
Is thin and fragile
Between finger and thumb
As I clumsily battle
To complete the zipā€™s journey
From the base of your spine
To that soft, flat plate,
Decorated with tiny, blonde hairs,
In the shadow of a
Slender but proud, erect neck.

My efforts seem without validity
But I know this must be done.
I promised long ago
That Iā€™d find strength enough
To hold you close
While letting go all the same.
And I stand by my word
Now that you call upon me
To shun accusations of cowardice
And trust you to the
Strength of anotherā€™s arms.

Together we journey
To our parting place,
Both dressed for the occasion
As we were on our wedding day.
You tell me youā€™re leaving
And that itā€™s for the best
As weā€™re both helpless.
I carried you here
As you requested for this end
But, when you fall to the ocean
Iā€™ll need your strength to carry me.

Like an illustration
On the page of a storybook,
A fairy-tale
Read quietly and clearly
By parents in the darkness,
Illuminated by bedside lamps
Or the romance of flickering
Candlelight,
I saw them there
Standing squat in a line
At the end of my garden.

Shielded by long grass
And the shadows of night,
Their faces were hidden
But a collective expression
In glowing green
Beckoned me into the cold,
Snowy woodland.

One was taller than the rest;
Tall, beautiful and female.
I recognised her
And she knew my mind
For sheā€™d seen it before
I left her
Some years ago.

The perils of falling were clear
But I would risk being discovered
Naked and bleeding
In my own surroundings
Or caught and accused
Of perversity and insanity.

Others whoā€™ve known me
Understood my score,
Written in pencil
Rather than ink.
No need to convince
Such welcome visitors
Of its validity.

The sensations of freezing,
Sharp leaves on my ankles
And the shrivelling of a penis
That had yet more sense
Was real and lasting
Though my friends,
Now much closer,
Had vanished out of sight.
Even she had left me ā€“
She who attracted me most.

But, now I knew that
Iā€™ll never again gaze
From the safety of my bedroom
Into the woodland,
Carpeted in shades of
Green and pink,
And feel alone and afraid.

She would win in the end.

Until I find a way,
He gives it to her.
I laugh at him behind his back,
Sit back and let the evening go
ā€˜Cause, though he may want her too,
I cannot hear.

Wonā€™t you come out to play?
Can I bring my friend to tea?
We can show you a better time ā€“
Everyone you see if half asleep.
So, now that you know who you are
And you hope that your dreams will come true,
Just call on me.
You can do that
When no-one else comes near.

It was a love that had no past
Then I finally heard.
I donā€™t know why I
Thought she was a woman.
Sheā€™s as happy as can be,
Creeping like a nun,
Hiding her head in the sand.

She would win in the end
And I think itā€™s today.

There once was a girl from Aurora.
When she came here I tried not to bore her.
Well, she did her best
To keep flashing her chest
And she wasnā€™t that bothered who saw her!

Being a shy, English bloke
(With my crisps and half-pint of Coke),
I didnā€™t like to stare
At her ample pair
But it didnā€™t put off other folk.

The attention was hers everywhere
And it was getting quite too much to bare
So I took her aside,
Said ā€œLook, have some pride!ā€
But her kiss stole those words then and there.

Well, what was a guy meant to do?
Before she was flirting with you
But it was my lucky day
And Iā€™ve got to say
Iā€™d have shagged her that night in the loo!

But, sadly, it wasnā€™t to be.
She had a boyfriend back home, you see.
However, she sucked
And she said sheā€™d have fucked
If sheā€™d heard a more passionate plea!

In the company of
Sleeping loved ones,
Saints, idols and vagabonds,
I stroll
Exposed to rays
And waves alike.

And, in the presence of
So many remarks
That tell us little,
Iā€™m humbled and stilled.

For the first time in minutes
Iā€™m calm among such drama :
Needles reach for God
While the less fortunate
Sink beneath earth and thought.

Dog walkers pass legitimately,
Striding with purpose
While I seek solace
In my secret world ā€“
That which empowers
Yet threatens hourly
To finish me.

I stumble upon things
I was looking for:
Artefacts from life past.
A life almost forgotten.
Life I'll never forget.

Behind the sheen,
Reflective gloss of photos,
It all seems so accessible.
Images of us.
Some we posed for.
Some we didn't see coming
That capture a moment
And push it onwards.

I remember feeling sick.
And the nausea was real
Back then.
I long for it
To control my body;
Cripple my inside,
Bend me double,
Force my tears...
But nothing.

The smells are all there
Clinging to the colours
That seem duller in this light.
They call to me -
I know their language.
I want to cry
Now there's time.

I want to cry
Sometime -
A time to dwell.
A time to cry.
A time to look.
A time to hold.
We'll search within.
We'll be together
With all these things
When it's a time to dwell.

When I say those words
Youā€™ve always liked to hear,
I hope itā€™s understood
That our true friend is right here.
He whispers in my ear
Each syllable Iā€™ll need
To get you into my bed
And he tells you to proceed.

ā€œRelaxā€, he says, ā€œand clear your mind
Or the climax will elude you.
Thatā€™s the beginning of a slippery slope..
You do want a house and children?
Then listen to me and no-one else.
Iā€™ll take the reins from here.
You lit the spark ā€“ now let it blow.
There is nothing to fear.

When push comes to shove
And it comes to dishing love
You gotta get your facts just right ā€“
You gotta see the gov.
He knows whatā€™s real important
And what to leave behind.
Yeah, you can rely on Sammy Davis :
Heā€™ll show you whatā€™s to find.

So itā€™s you and Sammy D
And youā€™re eating up your green?
But have you noticed, as you listen,
That heā€™s never actually seen?
And in the months and years to come
When hurt begins to linger
Youā€™ll be wondering how it all went wrong
And Samā€™ll point his finger.

ā€˜Cause when push comes to shove
And it comes to dishing love... ETC

My voice is a strong one ā€“
Itā€™s met Samā€™s many times :
His whispers fall on deaf ears.
Iā€™ve refused to buy his lines.
But you can do whatever suits ā€“
Sammy'll fix you for good.
Heā€™ll keep you fooled and heā€™ll keep you sweet
And heā€™ll drag your soul through the mud.

But when push comes to shove
And it comes to dishing love... ETC

A is for Another Acrostic Accomplishment
Banded around the web like the
Cheapest of call-girls,
Desperate for recognition; to
Exceed everybody's expectations ā€“
Formed on the foundations of a
General lack of grade and the extensive
Heresy on the part of the poet.
I surely canā€™t be indicted, though?!
Jealousy is just a journey of
Karma, so keep your
Language in line with the
Mandatory mode of praise.
Nihilism neither is an
Option for, with this ode, our
Poet canā€™t fail to
Quicken the pace of the
Rewards he receives :
Shaping his success,
Tallying the treasures won,
Unfairly accumulating the goods ā€“
Vessels of my vermouth driven
Winning streak.. Iā€™ll want a
Xerox machine to copy (exactly) this great
Yield of victorious poems to my
Zoomorphic peers after this hits AP!!

Some guy said silence is golden
But he canā€™t have come across you ā€“
Itā€™s the Number One weapon in your arsenal
When you canā€™t bear to face whatā€™s true.
And youā€™ve always known it hurts me far more
Than any words you might say.
Itā€™s a sick little method to show you care
So, my love, this is how I must pay?

If itā€™s true weā€™re most cruel to the ones we love
Then I must look like such a fool
ā€˜Cause all this time I thought Iā€™d been loving you
But I was breaking the very first rule.

But listen up ā€“ I bring you good news :
I wanna fuck you all day and all night.
Nothing turns me on more than the sight of you :
Iā€™ll hear you moaning as I lose my sight.
And, without warning you returned from that tower
That I built so carefully for you :
The one I thought youā€™d always stay safely inside;
That fortress guarding my heart and soul too.

And while I played with myself in a darkened room,
Imagining your hands gliding over me,
A lifetime of friendship fell to itā€™s knees
And now Iā€™m finally able to see
That my comrade was right; that Iā€™m just a man ā€“
Not even you can escape fantasies
Played out in the mind of a control freak like me..
Friend or no friend : youā€™re just one more tease.

If itā€™s true weā€™re most cruel to the ones we love ETC.

But, I wish I could say honestly that a shift
Has occurred, that a light has been shone;
That I no longer feel an overwhelming urge
But Iā€™ve been lying with you all along.
That little word ā€œloveā€ commands no respect
As we stand back and watch our lives change.
It communes with the beast occupying us.
How close it gets is just a matter of range.

If itā€™s true weā€™re most cruel to the ones we love ETC.

I never really heard Woodwormā€™s cell phone
Chime a brief pair of disconnected notes
That tell the receiver heā€™s not alone
But we still left that pub ā€“ put on our coats.
Convenient that you didnā€™t show up
And that, since then, youā€™ve sent no IMs here.
Perhaps that was Woodwormā€™s major hiccup ā€“
That you donā€™t really exist is quite clear.
Yes, Iā€™ve seen your poems posted online
And the sweet, female voice is convincing
But only when we all sit down and dine
(Myself, you, our friend and maybe the King)
Will I start to believe this little tale
That, like Woodworm, in the flesh you are real.

Your window fixed ajar
Welcomed in the coastal climate;
Crammed your room with the chill
Of freezing December mornings,
Only eased by a mug of Himlagott
And your calm, warming smile
As you made me ā€œfeel the beesā€
Protruding from my mug.

Our show couldnā€™t have been
Less convincing ā€“
I would have beaten you
To the ground with my fists
If thatā€™s what you wanted.
Even the nursing staff
Could see that truth,
As we sat nervously in casualty.

And it was memories like these
That stole our farewell ā€“
Such a hard word to say;
Prevented more silent tears,
More heart-wrenching moments
Of that unique solidarity
Crumpled together in linen,
Sharing home truths.

Like the collapse of
That firm, sugary layer
Of those infamous Turkisk Peppar ā€“
Filling mouth with bitterness ā€“
That damn word
Just had to come out
Once weā€™d travelled South from
Our private goodbyes.

They would have been so disappointed
Had they known what really went on
In that massive hotel room ā€“
Just a hint of the pain
That came quickly upon us
As we battled ourselves,
Wondering if things might have been
Different some day.

And besides,
An explanation isnā€™t necessary ā€“
You were always so good
At translating our common experiences
Into rational phrases
Conveniently side-stepping the reasons
Iā€™m still unable to hear ā€˜Youā€™re Gorgeousā€™
Without thinking of you.

They might hear a cow
I might hear a duck
What the fuck

I hope one day
Weā€™ll meet like this
For real.
That weā€™ll sit down
Over coffee and talk
About how things fell
Between us,
Around us ā€“
Made getting together
A sham.

But for now
All I ask of you
Is to listen
To these words
That tell of my struggle
With the people
You can be
And that special one
You showed to me
Sometimes.

I kick myself
As your words push
Forcefully
Out my mouth
And hate you
For the indignity
Of needing
To cling to them ā€“
Because they do
Make sense.

But your wisdom
Failed many times
Yet I
Still nearly fell
Like the rest
Of your fans ā€“
Tricked,
Think Iā€™m wrong :
Youā€™re more strong;
More worthy.

Iā€™ve said it before :
Youā€™re intoxicating
With egocentricity
Disguised
As the love
A father might give
To a child
In his image ā€“
A more perfect design
Of himself.

And thank you for
The camouflage.
It took me so many
Wonderful places :
A winter walks' chat,
Lost in the cold,
Blustery hills
To music and espresso
By your comforting
Open fire.

So, I hope you
Understand these things
I had to say
Today
ā€˜Cause in years to come,
As they go through
My everyday things,
This note may contain
Our very last meeting
Again.

Honey bees
with bisexual tendencies
Were buzzing around a bell,
And, as you could tell,
It hardly seemed worth
Flying around its girth
As a plague of cleaning ladies
Just polished it to Hades.

What can you do
With a bucket full of spew?

Clean up the vomit
Or write a little sonnet?

Use a menu to scoop the sick
Or give up cause itā€™s too thick?

Get Monsieur another vessel
And with the full one you must wrestle.

But, always remember to keep your wits ā€“
Next time he could have the shits!

Thanks for the voice
You discovered in me.
It took a night like that
To set it free.
It was always there,
Locked inside my mind,
But I was too deaf
And you were too blind.

You couldnā€™t have picked
A more appropriate song
ā€˜Cause, as I look back,
I was the invisible one
In your little soap opera
With a cast of thieves
Stealing the limelight.
Remember, nothingā€™s for keeps.

Itā€™s ironic that still
I lean on strength you gave
That night among fools
Who just couldnā€™t behave
ā€˜Cause they knew that weā€™d
Very soon part;
That your Christine gave my Phantom
Just a glimpse of her heart.

Scenes of shining light
Sparkle from all directions,
Yellow glow pushing through
Curtains of bottled liqueur,
Timid folk hiding all they possess
Beneath layers of earth and dust.

We stretch and fold
Backs into it,
Donning clothes of wool
Thatā€™ll shield cold yet
Kind winds that whisper
Winter is upon us,
Through smells of damp
Cloth, bulleted scarf and hat,
Pine branches and trunks
Letting go.

Coffee and cake
Of cream and chocolate.
Dwelling on missed opportunity
Again but quietly happy
In comfort and cold.
Shivers scurry and scamper
Through backdrops clear and crisp
Accompanying sounds of laughter,
Voices singing by candlelight,
Once bellies fill,
And on amber corners
Familiar melodies of brass,
Humming through open corridors
Into side and corner.

Memories of glitter and tinsel
Around song and sight,
Silent, grateful tears
Freeze as we gaze
Through time and place,
Chilled and frightened
But warm together.

Never like Iā€™d
imagined she is ā€“
It is.
Not knowing...
Well not really,
Yet so
Clear
And as it should be.
Anxious feelings of
New experience and
Desperate fear of
Loss and irrational fear for
I only know so
Little of her but
She is so
Familiar.

It is simply amazing
How a transformation can occur ā€“
A graceful, winged insect
From an organ-less pool;
The sparkle of a March morning
Shattered and spread with spring snow.

In extreme weathers
Itā€™s easy to slip back and fall,
Helpless among crystal lasers,
Stumbling into the arms of fate
That guard and blind
In a shower of burst bubbles.

The cold was biting,
Threatening to savage us standing
There, all patient and calm
But really excited,
Overwhelmed by this miracle
Of pay and display.

Yet, to her it means nothing
But an ordinary day,
Or week or month or so
Of dog-shit and rock-nights,
Understated as I am exaggerated,
Rejected as I am still loved.

** I collaborated with a friend on this one **


-------

She can defecate on the seat ā€“
Crap falls to her feet.
She really smells
And sheā€™s as fat as they come ā€“
Probably weighs more than a ton.
Most of that weight is stored
In her non-anally retentive bum,
Along with his cum,
That very sperm shot in vain
Thatā€™s become just one more stain
On a cottage, once lovely and bright,
Now shrouded by the stench of shite.

Bedridden, hidden ā€“
To look upon her is forbidden.
Another smoke after a short poke
By her inept bloke.
The two of them,
Together theyā€™ll stick
But only because heā€™s so thick
And she gets a kick
From shagging a brick ā€“
No brains, just a dick.

Silently they creep
Into the pit
Where she lies down
And he can sit
Talking Neighbours and Home & Away ā€“
Really just somewhere for her to stay,
Making a mess everywhere she goes
As the floorboard under her bows.
And plastered with crap
Iā€™d be quite a feat
To clean that unfortunate toilet seat.

We might try to fill the entire pad ā€“
Gee, arenā€™t we sad?!

In silence it falls
Suddenly
With a numbing of sense
And movement,
Honestly terrifying
With its white shroud
Diffracting lights.
Withholding all truths
We stand in awe,
Unknowing in magic,
Creeping and edged
Safe together
In silhouette without shadow,
Cocooned ā€“
Held in motion,
Faintly heard perhaps
Humming forward
With melody
And still.