Page 1

Pic for Page.1

 

a white space yawns

asking for infinity to be installed

and I am just a passenger

a wide-eyed boy in search of clarity

still in awe at the awful blankness of space

in those great oceans of unoccupied terrain

that I would people with words and sense

to make a friendly haven in the morning, a berth

a place of solace and comfort where

one  could be left without the lurk of doubt or dread

a place to own and luxuriate in

somewhere to call a home that is

full of warmth and promises

after I’ve scuffed the Welcome mat

and trodden on the post

Longing

Chess Mates. I have this sense of impending doom.

 

day by day

the long column

of little steps

ascends, as if

 

no greater power could command

nor small urge arrest

the strident pattern

of controlled desire

 

while sleep conceals

the gnawing pang

daylight reveals the currents

that play with a pain

 

no two thoughts can unwind

without a third that questions

sweet reason

with a sneer

 

and so we live in danger

here and now

and cite past treason

to re-affirm weakness, as if

 

derision was the message

on a welcome mat

as we attempt

to douse the fire

 

and put quiet to bed

the questions

that linger in the threads

and fabric of scented pillows

 

 

so,  sleep well with demons

children please

your softly moulded bodies lay limp

without due diligence

 

as those dreams fade

mutate

and pass into a troubled, yet

forgotten history

fractions

Big window

 

at a fallen moment

I stop

to wonder where

that fraction went

before it came to rest

which brings me to

serendipity

and what I understand of that

how the obvious will stare

straight at me in its naked state

unashamed and proud to bare

a gift, a threat

a thought to dare

that might expose me for what I am

and leave me aghast

staring at solid air

and another chance at risk

to be still and accentuate the moment

and  drown

in you

Lost in transit

Lost in transit.pic.poem

 

so many fractions of loss accrete

on the wind-blown traces of a meteor

it’s history

a wide girth of spectral dust

shimmering as isotopes that cling to the life

 of one challenged molecule

looking back at the wide beyond and

spell-bound by the beauty it travelled through,

confused,  resentful that

all those points of light were careless

and let him through

condemned  to shadow play and scraps

when bright lights gleamed on other, chosen, skins

not his,

so the incidents of memory

come back and douse what remains of the view

with that dismal feeling the pilot knows as he cranes

to catch sight of what went on

R.I.P.

R.I.P.

 

to all of that

loquacious man

you spent so much

time in air

with stories that sailed

on perfumed winds

close to the edge of reason

and frequently beyond

but the fuel you used

high octane stuff

was poison

so when you sucked

you swallowed tainted fuel

and lit a flare

that could only ever do one thing

gutter, stutter or fizzle out

and you reached all three

now you leave

a crater on the moon

one holed sock

and a legend

that could never be.

Day tripper

 

Day tripper. pic for poem

somewhere else

the sun shines

a person smiles

 

 so today I am drawn

to over there

where they breath different air

 

 because this sky frowns

blank and grey and sobbing

I am being robbed

 

 by a rolling crescendo

of  unruly  water

 that parades noisily on glass

 

 mocking all the barriers

 like stone, metal, or any canopy

that would forbid it

 

but still I long

for sunshine

and warm, wet lips

 

somewhere else

that will harbour me

in moments like this

Christopher

Christopher. Pic for poem

 

Shout. Scream

deny all knowledge of that dream

The distance yawns

and fills the void

with stale air and residues

of harm

that neglect will come to know

as regret

that cloying self-pity that hangs

on the rags of remorse

and renders even love

to shrug

and wonder why

 

My boy who is now a man

has drifted in that domain

and knows so little of me

save that I sired him

and hurt his mother cruelly

He finds forgiveness hard

Those blank years went down

in flames and hate

so only silence and darkness

could void the pain

but now I sense the permafrost

might thaw

and I may be allowed

to make some recompense

small reparations to the ship of love

in this slow cycle of drawing out

the heat from that scream

and venom from the shout

 

May soft lips form

around the eternity of air

 that sucks and strains to find

the letters that hide in space

and just might spell

an end to longing