25 July, 2009 at 00:08 (Uncategorized)

I want to be on my knees with you
In front of her
joking about the positon we’re in
because this is so much worse.
I want to be on my knees with you
laughing and half falling asleep
I want to be somewhere else with you
anywhere but in this deep.
No paddle in sight I note.
I want to be on my knees with you
as we once were
I want to be back there with you
before, before, before.

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18 July, 2009 at 20:48 (Uncategorized)

It came as clear as madness in the sky,
it came as clear as brevity,
don’t ask me why
but it came, you know it did,
and now,
we’re out of sight
and now you’re denying
– this.

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17 July, 2009 at 12:55 (Uncategorized)

It’s a damp day
The rain is Lancaster’s come to Kirkham to taunt me.
I respond with a finger raised, not at the clouds
which I rather like,
but at the cold.
For I was naked last night
in the rain,
in the best of ways
that Lewis assigns to friends and never lovers
and I assign to lovers.
Taunt me Lancaster rain,
it’s a long time since I worried about you.

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16 July, 2009 at 23:26 (Uncategorized)

Lancaster’s continous rain came down,
dampened the edges of a rather fine cigar.
The centre, however, continued to burn;
we walked through the rain
as the flavours
grew stronger than their subtle beginnings
and, in the end,
almost numbed our mouths with their intensity.
We spoke of bondage, sex, moutains and forests
– for these things interested us,
briefly.
As the rain came down,
the cigar continued to burn.
In the end though,
it all comes down to the eyes,
watching the cigar burn,
the intensity of flavours.

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14 July, 2009 at 22:10 (Uncategorized)

Once upon a sofa, Alice and Christopher lay
and once upon a sofa – well, what would you expect them to say?
Of course they said it, and then lay back,
And fell asleep, just like that.

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14 July, 2009 at 21:51 (Uncategorized)

The ache in my spine,
the ache in my head,
as I repeat everything you’ve said
is one from early adolescence,
I’ll give it a miss.
The happy little family,
is nonetheless in the city,
and the city crows when we drown.
See what satisfaction,
I won’t let it have found,
in myself,
the world lies beyond these walls,
and I can still walk it,
so I will and the ache in my spine
might be love
and the ache in my head,
but so’s the smile when I leave.

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11 July, 2009 at 11:09 (Uncategorized)

So you think I’m a bit of a shit,
I can live with that.
There are circles, like you said
and I finally feel – however wrong that I am
I belong.
So you think I’m a bit of a shit,
I prefer truth to lies
and that’s the you I could bring myself,
quite happily, to despise
if I thought it was worth it.
Instead
I shall watch as you happily delude
yourself,
others,
again.
I prefer each painful honesty,
I prefer to know that each love made me me
and I won’t be remaking anytime soon
the past.
Would I wish this on you?
Probably not, and you think I’m a bit of a shit.
I’m not going to forget
each truth that you spun
and I’m not going to forget
that you loved each one.
Whatever they did to you.
Which does make me a bit of a shit.
I like the truth,
this adult habit of forgetting in the name of
love? honesty? obedience?
I don’t like one little bit,
so leave me on the edge of the playground
and if it turns out
(as it’s looking right now)
that this circle isn’t mine to be in the middle of
I’ll go back to hopscotch
on my own.
I’d rather be alone than lie aloud,
at least about what made me,
at least about me.
Your choice to go the other way,
but don’t expect me to play,
remember,
I’m a bit of a shit.

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The Garden

5 July, 2009 at 22:14 (Uncategorized)

‘Give up the living for the dead’
Or maybe that’s just what I want your eyes to have said,
but someday there has to be
a flaming sword,
a slammed door.
You’re out of the garden without a word.
So I gave up the living for the dead
tried to pump some air into those lungs
and when I knew that I’d jump from a roof,
when I knew I’d walk blind across the Bay,
at least I knew I was not alone.
I gave up the living for the dead,
at least,
that’s what I hoped your eyes said
too long ago.

Now that’s over, there is little more to say,
the door to the garden is closed,
the sword is burning.
Though I still face it, can’t bear to turn away,
I am back in the world of the living
and there’s a dance in these shallow waters.
It had me at hello.
I find the dead better company.
I find your eyes still pull me back there,
but I could never draw you out –
at the last step, I always turned around.
Here in the shallows is a one
who does not vanish when I face him.
There’s your flaming sword
and I’m alive without a word
that’s how I know it burns.

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2 July, 2009 at 22:24 (Uncategorized)

Once upon a sofa,
we told each other how this would be,
and I think we’ve got to be there,
some would add, finally.
I miss the nights when you’d leave,
and we’d have,
a sentence or two to exchange,
our place between the pages,
all I ever wanted,
and the story spread out and surrounding.
But a long time ago we had months between meeting,
a long time ago we had years between greetings,
a kiss before I got on a train,
come back and leave and one kiss again,
now we have whole days,
out there on the heather,
the edge of the page.
Once upon a sofa,
we started talking…
let’s not end this conversation for a little while.

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2 July, 2009 at 22:18 (Uncategorized)

There was a flash, briefer than brief,
a single sight of the girl I fell in love with…
but that isn’t true, she’s always there,
only every now and then may I still see,
the girl who might have fallen for me.
Opening mouths and speaking too silently,
distracting from anything but the shallows,
which is the way straight girls are supposed to be,
isn’t it.
You make it clear where we stand,
and only I am left mourning for some strange fantasy,
that got to the point of almost
before it crashed.

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