24 September, 2008 at 13:47 (Uncategorized)

When I was a kid I used to stand, at the kitchen sink with my Dad,
Doing the washing up.
The view beyond the window changed, over the years as my Mum,
Did up the garden.
He stood on the left, his arms up to the elbows in soapy water,
and me, with a tea towel in hand on the right,
being admonished for being too eager to dry,
sopping wet dishes.
Very little changes, the plants in the house and the garden,
had me learning how to barely breathe,
so as to disguise my allergies.
The conversation, whatever interested Dad at that moment,
though he’d encourage me, to ask questions,
if I could think of them.
Where better to discuss quantum physics then,
than over the washing up, a place where all the best conversations are had,
in a house where I must barely breathe,
keeping my allergies silent, unspoken,
Just like home.

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17 September, 2008 at 22:58 (Uncategorized)

Breathing in is a privelege we receive upon our birth if we are lucky,
breathing in the world and it resides within us for a while,
and then we breathe it out again, and I am struck,
suddenly, for one perfect breath, by all that unites the world.
I surrounded by warmth, can breathe,
what was breathed, moments before, and yet, I notice it,
there was more before to see, and never take the time to notice until after.
That is why I am here, almost I have a purpose, to show,
all those perfect moments, that you missed,
in the happening of it all.

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17 September, 2008 at 15:51 (Uncategorized)

Every inch and I’m cut apart,
every inch and theres no way I’m telling you,
Every inch, and there is when I said it would happen,
and here is where in unravels,
and these are my knitting needles,
and this is the pattern,
and why was Miss Marple so triumphant,
when everything she said came true,
it’s only human nature after all.
It’s only human nature,
and I’m only me,
and you’re only you.
And every inch cuts more of me apart,
and these are my knitting needles,
and this is my heart,
and here is where the bleeding used to start,
But there’s no way I’m doing this,
and it makes me wonder,
how I did this by choice, for pleasure,
for the sheer reputation of the matter.
This is the pattern,
this is how it goes,
and you may have taken a couple of steps I didn’t expect,
but this is the point where I say to myself,
‘I told you so.’

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Protected: In The Rain/Chapter One (The Toyshop) – Part Two

17 September, 2008 at 13:56 (Uncategorized)

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Did It

16 September, 2008 at 12:39 (Uncategorized)

“It’s me.” came the hissed whisper. “I’ve done it.”
“What? Ellen?”
“Yeah. I’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“You know what.”

Old conversations flitted briefly across his sleep-addled brain.
“No, it’s no good. I’m too tired. What have you done?”
“I killed him.”

Suddenly he felt far too awake.
“What do you mean?”
“I did it. I finally did it. I killed him.”
“You can’t have done.”
“Yes, I did. So, we’ll do like we agreed?”
“Like you said. I’ve got until the end of the weekend, you clean up and I’ll get to Venezuela.”
“Yeah, no extradition treaty. Like you said.”

She sounded so elated, so free.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, even though every part of the conversation was coming back to him.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
She paused and sudden suspicion entered her voice.
“You are going to help me, right? Like you promised?”
“Where are you?”
“At the allotments.”
The elation was back in her voice.
“I thought you were supposed to be at his flat?”
“Yes…but the cats kept on looking at me.”
“So…wait. What? What happened?”

There was silence.
“Ellie? Are you there?”
“What happened? You’re supposed to still be at the flat. Did you do it there?”
“Yeah. Like we talked about. He turned around in the kitchen, I hit him with the old fashioned iron. It only took a couple of whacks, there’s brains and blood and stuff all over the kitchen floor though.”
“It’s ok. It’s linoleum, that’s why you did it in there, remember.”
“How did you get to the allotments?”
“The cats kept looking at me.”
“So his bo…”he dropped his voice. “The body is still in the appartment?”
“He’s a big guy. What did you do?”
“Rolled him up in a tarp and put him in the lift.”
“He’s in the boot.”
“How’d you get him in the boot without anyone noticing?”
“It was only about an hour ago.”
“What time is it?”
“Four am.”
“If someone sees you up on the allotment at this hour it’s not exactly not suscipious.”
“I thought you’d deal with that.”
“Hey. When you planned this you were the one who sorted everything. I just tidied up afterwards.”
“We planned this together.”
“No we didn’t. You wanted him out of the way. You wanted the money. I don’t get anything.”
“Nor do I if I’m in Venezuela.”
“We’re not getting the money?”
“I had him change his will a couple of months ago.”
“He’s left the money to her.”

The was silence.

“You’re still going to Venezuela.”
“If you clean up. I’ve got until Monday to get there.”
“What are you going to do with the body.”
“I can’t get it out of the trunk on my own.”

Another silence.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”
“You promised.”
“I didn’t. You talked about it. It was just talking.”
“We planned this.”
We didn’t do anything. You talked yourself into doing this.”
“You won’t help me?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll clean up, like we said but I’m not…”
“I can’t lift it. He’s too heavy. How’m I going to bury him?”
“I don’t know. But you can’t ask me to do that.”
“I’ve dug the hole. All we need to do is roll him in, he’s still in the tarp.”
“I can’t do this. You can’t ask me to do this.”
“I need you. How many times have I ever needed you?”
“That’s why we’re friends.”

This silence was full, of accusation on her part and anger on his.

“You’ll clean the flat?”
“I’ll go over there first thing tomorrow.”
“Feed the cats.”
“I’ll send you a postcard.”
“How are you going to bury him?”
“Not your problem now, is it?”
“No. Bye Ellie.”
“Bye Mike.”

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Protected: In The Rain/Chapter One

10 September, 2008 at 13:35 (Uncategorized)

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Protected: In The Rain/Introduction

8 September, 2008 at 13:22 (Uncategorized)

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1 September, 2008 at 15:54 (Uncategorized)

How can I not, want to describe,
every inch of your eyes upon me?
How can I not, want to write,
every moment of your lips on mine?
How can I not, seek in the stars,
some wish that would lead you to me?
How can I not, revel in those moments,
which have been ours a thousand times?

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Night Crossings

1 September, 2008 at 15:24 (Uncategorized)

And the prow of your ship juts proud,
But I haven’t sailed with you in a long time now,
And I know you aren’t sitting in the dry docks
and I know that the ship isn’t somewhere in hock,
And the prow of your ship still juts proud,
it’s just that I haven’t sailed with you in a long time now,
and you look at me across the bar we frequent,
as if my eyes are accusing you,
as if the crossings we spent,
on the decks of your boat, beneath the stars,
meant nothing.
They meant what they meant,
and the prow of your ship, splits the water,
and the prow of your ship leads on into
only those crossings which are meant,
and it slices the mist in the winter,
and it cuts apart the moon in the summer,
and when the stars are out,
and the wind blows long,
then I can think of you, as I sit in our bar,
and wish that just once, you’d sang me that song.

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The Boat

1 September, 2008 at 15:14 (Uncategorized)

Dancing then on the top of your dice roll,
Surfing then, at the crest of your wave,
but you’re looking elsewhere,
as I start to fall and I’m screaming
‘hey, look at me’
‘hey look at me’
as the sharks start to bite you,
‘hey look at me’
as the raft pushes you down,
‘hey look at me’
as you start to drown,
won’t you please just look at my fall,
so spectacular, so beautiful, so doomed,
so…who cares that you’re starting to drown,
there’s nothing I can do,
there’s no sound at the bottom of the ocean,
I just want to drown with you,
in fabulous fashion,
and there’s a boat on the horizon
and you look confused,
still not looking at me,
what have you to lose?
Only your grip on the swimming lessons you hated,
take the boat,
leaving only my desires unsated,
take the boat,
I might want you to drown,
but on the bottom of the ocean only silence resounds,
and, the surf takes you from me,
as I start to drown,
you were supposed to drown with me,
but you’re not around,
and I’m left, alone,
at the bottom of the sea,
and the boat goes on without us,
but you still are not free,
and I’m alone,
and theres nothing, only drowning to do,
if you aren’t here with me,
then where did you go?

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