31 July, 2008 at 13:41 (Uncategorized)

A shared fantasy, collaborative effort,
you and me and everyone else,
a real game.
Isn’t that was life is?
As I look over my shoulder, nervously,
a shared game,
a dance,
a mime,
let him out of his box then,
a shared game,
blade against skin,
a little time,
yours, mine,
a game,
and dancing in the blackness,
I wish that I could play,
and dancing in the empty air I wonder what you’d say,
to my knowledge of this blade,
and when I thought that we might play,
a little while at life.


Permalink Leave a Comment


30 July, 2008 at 13:47 (Uncategorized)

In the beginning it felt like ‘goodbye’,
by the end, it felt like ‘hello –
we have re-understood and re-imagined
ourselves and now,
after all this airless, terrified time,
we can breathe.’
Was it so? Or was it not so?
We are breathing but that brief rain time,
that brief spring time of joy,
is over, and that is so.
I do not know,
half of what I think I know,
not so much as a quarter of what you think I know,
and still I go on,
though the joy is over,
and that heady time, when we almost made it,
Time sweeps against us,
and we fell when I thought we could stand,
unsupported by my greatest support,
alone we walk along the sand,
single file where once we strode side by side.
It felt like ‘hello, we meet again’
but I would far rather we had never said ‘goodbye’.

Permalink Leave a Comment


21 July, 2008 at 00:12 (Uncategorized)

What are you inside then?
What is this shape?
And why do I only see you now?

Permalink Leave a Comment

What do you want to be?

20 July, 2008 at 23:55 (Uncategorized)

What was it for you?
I’ll tell you what it was for me,
a last ditch effort,
to please them.
The way I’ve never done,
a last ditch effort,
for some acceptance,
in a family I’ve never come from.
So, what was it for you?
Since you always had it so good,
For me, it was being,
all the things I never could,
I passed though,
and I think I’ve been,
good enough,
and you’ve never seen what I’m like,
when I’m doing it,
I’m pretty good.
Not quite enough though is it?
When your life hangs in the balance,
and there’s always some reason to compromise,
and is it the effort that’s not enough,
or the ability?
I can never tell,
for me, it was the last thing I could do,
that might have raised a smile or two,
a nod, some understanding,
and to burn that away,
will take some doing,
even for me.
Because I’m good when I do it,
and it might have got me through it,
this thing,
this life,
this desire to apologise,
for never being quite, wanted,
and for always wanting to escape,
without their being anything to escape from.
So, when we burn,
I’ll need to mourn,
because then I’m completely and utterly free,
no ties,
no strings,
and no way to please.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Declaration Of Intent

17 July, 2008 at 15:20 (Uncategorized)

Declaration Of Intent

Permalink 2 Comments


16 July, 2008 at 17:19 (Uncategorized)

Yes I loved you, in my own way,
Isn’t that all there is to say?
Yes, I loved you, it’s not exactly done with,
but it’s over,
Never loved you in the way that you wanted,
so isn’t that what we have to say?
You chose wisely, you chose well,
So what that that way ended in hell?
Wouldn’t we have been different?
Sure, but what she gave you,
I couldn’t,
so theres that and little more.
Yes, I loved you, in my own way,
and isn’t that all there is to say?
In my own way, which wasn’t what you wanted,
in my own way,
that is to say,
along with a host of others,
and I can see you’re disappointed.
yes you’re special, yes you’re unique,
but I was never going to say to you,
You are the only one.
There’s never going to have been,
an only one.

Permalink Leave a Comment

You said, then I said

11 July, 2008 at 22:05 (Uncategorized)

And you said;
‘Best go to him then.’

So I told you that;
‘You’ve given voice to,
my voices in the dark…’

I wondered how you felt, when I told you that,
I told you that I wondered
how long it would be,
before you fly, leaving me in my ocean.

I told you that;
‘You’ve given voice to,
my voices in the dark
and I’ve faced those darknesses,
and you, never noticing a thing,
do you think I use you?’

And you said nothing.
So I continued;
‘I suppose I do,
cannot help but see,
that spark that you draw out,
cannot help but burn,
cauterise the wounds,
so very painfully.
You’ve given voice to,
my voices in the dark,
cannot help but write,
with what you’ve given spark,
cannot help but keep on writing,
these voices from my head,
when they ended their consensus,
I really should have said.

Still, you said nothing
and I continued;
‘Cauterise these wounds then
and i’ll keep on writing
wandering and writing
and wondering when you’re going to have to say no.’

and you said;
‘It’s always interesting to be there,
at the receiving end,
when it Happens.

Make sure that one goes into the next book.
Oh yes…
interesting to be there,
to see it happen to you,
Well, I say to ‘you’,
but the line’s a moot point.’

so I asked you;
‘you saying you don’t know who I am?’

and you said;
‘Oh no, I know who you are.
All of you…’

and I said;
‘now thats a claim’

Permalink Leave a Comment

11 July, 2008 at 20:59 (Uncategorized)

Woodie Guthrie’s dead and bob Dylan’s on radio two,
Woodie Guthrie’s dead and I wonder if I am too.
You want to be a poet, you got to keep on moving,
and bob Dylan is on radio two,
I never wanted to be a poet,
It’s a title I haven’t earned,
I never wanted to be a poet,
and yet it’s mine, I grasp it,
Can you tell I haven’t learned, what it is to be human.
They missed the depression, and us we miss the sixties,
all wish we’d never fought in Vietnam,
and what can I tell you,
but if you want to be a poet you’ve got to keep on moving,
and I’m stood still and standing, hanging on.
Never had one like you before,
and I’m trapped and uncertain, not moving on,
she thinks she in the house with you,
but me, I’m standing here not moving on,
keep on moving in this wormhole, keep on moving, that’s what I’ve got to do,
Because Woodie Guthrie’s dead and Bob Dylan,
well, it’s radio two, me I’ve got to keep on moving,
and that counts for people too.

Permalink 1 Comment

Tarrying On The Beach

10 July, 2008 at 13:29 (Uncategorized)

My home, at the end of every day I return to you,
My home, and I always will, go home,
After every adventure. After every sight.
I will go home, and be held in solidity,
But I am so enraptured by the sight of her,
She is golden and blue,
And I sit on my hands, here on the sands,
And I do not touch,
No closer to the fence than this,
And this is everything – as well as nothing very much.
Always I will return to you, always I will come home,
Let me sit here on the beach
And watch the mermaid singing,
Knowing that soon it is time to go home,
And I always will come home,
But I am so in love with her so let me watch, just a little longer,
And my resolve it does not need to strengthen,
Already it is strong,
And it is almost time to come home.
I know I must come home and I will,
But let me rest a while upon the beach,
And hear the mermaid singing,
And know that she will never sing to me,
My name is Alfred and you made it so,
And I will never go, swimming in that water,
But let me stay and see,
Her gold and blue,
Before I come back home to you.
It is almost time to,
But let me stay a little longer,
You know I must come home,
Let me stay a while as it gets colder,
And see the sun is setting in the sea,
And let me wait,
A little more, I know it will be warmer when I come home,
But let me wait and look out to see,
And let me wait and let me look and let me be,
Me, just a little while longer.
Before I turn away, and come home.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Dozing In The Children’s Section

8 July, 2008 at 14:10 (Uncategorized)

(With Apologies to Charles Dodgeson)

The pillow is white and your lips are red,
there is something, perhaps in what Snow White said.
The gentle curve of your mouth…
we’ve grown up together, though I am far older than you,
but the way your mouth looks against the pillow,
reminds me of how it was before we met, we two.
When you were a boy in the woods, and I was a girl in the garden.
You lie there on the pillow, showing your old self to me,
and I am thrown suddenly back to that time,
when all I had to do to be, however I wanted to be,
was follow the little labels, and eat and drink to be,
however I wanted to be.

Your lips against the pillow, easy and parted,
there is something in what Buttons said to Cinderella,
before they had started, what they never started,
When you were a boy, dragging your bear,
and I was a girl brushing my hair, before we’d never met,
in this unreality we made, before they had us go to London,
before they gave us some road paved with gold, or yellow bricks,
or whatever pleased their dreaming trips, knowing nothing of us.

Your lips,
red against the pillow,
that gentlest curve of your mouth,
and I am in the garden again and you are in the woods,
and I am moving the pieces, trying to become a queen,
and you are heading inexorably to that place where you must
lie, to your friend and leave the woods,
‘Hello Kitty’ I said to Dinah,
As you were going away, and nobody knew why,
or at least that’s what you had them say.
Your lips are slightly parted and your breathing comes easily now,
and I’m dreaming of those places,
as I drift in the here and now,
wondering where his face is,
that man who started me along this path,
moving all the pieces, trying to become a queen,
I swore that I would thwart him,
swore I would be seen and moving, phantomwise,
haunting him all his life, the way he has haunted me.

MY BOAT beneath that sunny sky,
It lingers onward dreamily,
Children playing in July –

Hoping, we have nestled near,
Eager eye, and willing ear,
Longing that simple tale to hear –

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Now I’ll haunt him, phantomwise,
Never seen by waking eyes
– still listening under skies.

– a child yet, the tale to hear,
– my eager eye, willing ear,
Lovingly, I’ll nestle near.

In Wonderland I’ll lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Lingering in the golden gleam –
Ever drifting down the stream
– what is life, but dozing dream?

I nearly said your tale was sadder than mine,
but then I remembered how he wrote,
and perhaps my tale is sadder than thine,
I came home and you went away, but my tale ends on a dying July,
and you could never find the words to say,
but instead made your friend a faithful knight,
and crowned yourself the king of all the woods,
whilst I, became a Queen for real, but in the confusion of a dream…

We doze then, the pillow between us, your lips in front of my eyes,
and you struggle to say the things,
that I never had the tact to struggle for,
‘…whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?’
But there is nothing to understand,
so let us doze then, you and I,
your red lips under July sky,
slightly parted and we are, forever,
playing with water pistols,
in some enchanted forest,
oh, anywhere.

Permalink 5 Comments

Next page »