The world has awoken in the grip of opposites today;
The sun and moon are dead,
And as light filters through the opaque paper sky,
A call from a rook in photographic negative
Cries we are all at sea.

An ancient silhouette, quietly reaches for me
As I move through life’s membrane by osmosis.
My words are carried off on burned matchsticks
Hopeful of being heard in the silence.

There is nothing behind me or in front,
So why look back?
Only memory tells me what lies in the shadows
Of a smoke distorted past;
And beyond the light of now-
Who knows?


The Look

In one look

You passed me your silent gift;

It was all the sunrises

And sunsets in an instance.

Your face, the first blossom

Of spring

Raised a fire in my heart;

A glance that altered

My existence,

But the world remained

In stasis.

The look

Which realigned the universe

Put time in it’s rightful place

For that moment;

Is mine

Though I cannot touch it

It’s forever with me

In my heart.

The Secret

A beautiful secret with no name,
A tiny knot of fear;
A secret in your daddy’s heart,
A smile and a secret tear.

A beautiful secret with no name,
A whisper in love’s ear;
A secret in your mummy’s belly,
And joy when the secret’s here.

my baby

The way you talk leaves a scar
You’re trouble, that’s just how you are,
Ain’t life a bitch
Getting a seven year itch
But this time you’ve pushed me too far.

(Until the next time, ha, ha)

100 mile-an-hour dream

I’m sleeping

With a fairground ride expression!

As lonely as a universe:

A sea of white horses

Running wild in the storm.

I am everything and nothing:

Just a rush of colour in my lover’s eyes.

I am discovering life in the blurb,

I’ve got 100 mile-an-hour hair,

‘Cause I’m a flag facing in to the wind.

A Scarlet Road

A scarlet road,
And a comforting pattern of pain;
Olympic swimming from hand
To brain and back;
Being absorbed through the membranes
Behind my eyes.
In every haemoglobic drop
Drips the stains of emotion
Like dark, circular questions;
The answers crawl under my skin,
Shuffling like history feeling for the door
In the darkness,
And behind each, a different room
With its own pain shaped tin of secrets;
Inside, a journey without end.