Gotcha

Tuesday roll out of bed and run
Haul jackets on
And fucking run
Hit the side of the bus
Climb in
Face plant the isle
Head butt the window
Hurdle unconscious enamelled
Speed up bus train turnstile get there
Plow keyboards madly
Little plastic letters
Shit it to production
Slam it
The clock says run
Fucking better
A blur beside me shouts HEY
A mess of blond hair shouts HEY
Lips and legs she grabs me HEY
I LIKE YOU
Painful yank and the weight of her drags
I drag her behind
HEY SLOW DOWN
I jab at my watch
HEY LOOK
I toss my head and look daggers

Her hand is outstretched
Thumb and index finger, touching
Between them, a red seed
I stare at it

I stand with rasping breath

Her hand is outstretched
Thumb and index finger, touching
Between them, a red seed
I stare

She grins at me

Constellation

My door creaks
When you go away
It moans as you leave
It closes on laughter and light

My eyes close
When you go away
They helplessly hold
The arch of your eyebrow and your reposed form

Your face fades
When you go away
It disintegrates
Into the midnight expanse of my inner eye

My lips smile
When you go away
Each time on that clear cold sky
I find a new star you left behind just for me

The Sweet Breaking

Ticking clocks
Pensive stares
Soft furnishings
Stale airs
Kind dead eyes
Enquiring flatly,
How would you define love exactly?

Latin roots
Desire and care
(He strokes his whitening beard and stares)
Proto-Indo-European
Germanic high and old affection

He wrinkles his grey etymology,
Assails my senses with dusty tweed
And bookish curiosity

Well fuck,
I say nervously
Quite a lot of things let’s see

Far away right now I can see
A girl’s fingers busy fumbling and numbing
With a boy’s belt buckle
Their hearts are drumming
Simpatico lust curated by longing
Lust is love, or love is something

Elsewhere presently I see
A drunken shape slowly stumbling
Down a midnight garden path
To a lonely light bulb out the back
And a note bearing a biro heart
In love, stationary plays a part

Somewhere out there I envision
A couple in a sunbeam fools
For an hour
In a tower of pillows
Doing nothing much
But killing a deadline
And repelling an invading to do list
Although nobody expressly said it
Love is procrastination, a bit

Oh, now my mind is resplendent
With a child’s delight
Jumping and jiving in bedtime twilight
Waving sparklers and coloured lights
Objects the extemporaneous girl might receive
From some fatherly figure in on the ploy
To elicit in her this bursting-with-joy
Love is his face weathered and kind
Love is her dazzling, smazzling smile

You asked me to define what I meant by love
And I had a faltering go
But fellow, old man, dear therapist,
There are more definitions than you or I know

The Araboolies of Empathy Street

Does the General of Liberty Street have PTSD?
Did you think of that, Araboolies?
With your kitschy junk and your animal funk
You’re disturbing the General’s sleep!

Sure he’s a mean old guy
And the kids on the street have to hide
But you drove him out of his very own house
Not a chance of a compromise!

I don’t believe in baddies, do you?
Just folks who are singing the blues
So next time you encounter a face that is sour,
Stop and think about what he’s gone through.

I’ll Make Dinner When I’ve Finished Editing Your Smack Down Honey

You take verbage for granite
It’s from a whole nother planet
Let my pronounciation orientate
Let it perculate your state
Let my rhymes sooth ya
Do a Heineken remover
Your ordinance is ostensively miniture
I’m gonna take ostraya nucular
You went to the libary supposably?
Your lyrics prespire, depose of them please
Your point is mute the parlament voted
To be pacific what you got’s a tradgedy
Your granma and speling expecially
With my volumptuous rhyme
This triathlon bitch
I wan it

The Creative Thief

Rounding out the curve of a hip
It takes over it wins for an hour
It steals from you until you come back to waking
This taking
I’m scared of it slipping and making
Me old like my mum charcoal and paper
Clutched in a spotty hand shaking

Tannins Tungs Acrylics

Tannins tungs acrylics and sponges
Big wool rugs and coffee from plungers
Beans slow cooked in a swamp of sauce
Haloumi grilling, jasmine on the porch

Battleship

Gee three, kerpow, my friends never call me
Forgot their birthdays, took it personally
Kay four, kerblewy, I don’t eat anymore
Reg-u-lar-lee, like my gee pee told me
Kay two, slammo, I wake up impromtu
And perform an act while I lie on my back
In the dark being sunk by lucky attacks
My rag tag fleet’s now a lonely blip
Oh go on life
Sink my battleship

Petrichor

Ah, love,
sister,
Falling, failing, fragile you.
You knocked on my door and
Told me it’s been raining.

Ah, yeah,
sister,
It’s been raining here too.
And like you
I know how much it costs a heart to commit
To ten thousand more rainy days.

Ah, love,
Sister,
I’m so happy this secret’s not strange.
What? you demand
Pulled back from afar.
Why, sister you
Of all people know
Just how bloody brave we both are!

This Love Affair

This love affair is gallery stares
It moves at gallery paces
Wide eyed, bedroom-still
We study each other’s faces

This love affair is a sweet duet
Timed exactly right
Shivering like two strings plucked
Two notes for a warm Spring night

This love affair is the words in a book
Bold and lovingly penned
Unfolding and unfurling
Beginning, middle and end

Inches and Hours

Shifting warmth
Low exposure smiles
Inches apart
Small hour calm

Weights and surfaces
Traversing touches
Faint potentials
A love, made to fit

Scenes, little close ups
Lips, hair, liminal airs
Still lifes in pillow forts
Dimly lit shorts

Between lens changes
Interleaved sensations
Little pockets of time
We film with our eyes

From The Other Side of the World

I turn over your words in my head,
The words you sung to me.
From the other side of the world—
Your bed.

I revolve in my mind, your kind,
Your voice,

Its tenor,
Its strain,
Its refrain.

What Vicious Beast

What vicious beast did you survive
That left you with wounds like that?
What vicious beast pried the warmth from your chest?
What vicious beast did you best?

I’ve fought some too, perhaps not like you
Though I would like to know…

Was it a lost boy with a pale face
Who would trace your streps
Who would silently chase
Who would keep apace
By standing closer every day
Your attentions strayed?

Many Hatted Mad Men

Many hatted mad men,
Absent of certain sensibilities
That you and I gentle reader
Consider.

What other worlds revolve around ours
That we do not reach for,
That orbit us and spend
Periods
Behind our backs and out of our sight.

First Contact

Pale lips flex her slim ivory face.
I imagine her life translucent,
Travelling calmly by capillary force
Along the sheltered side of potted leaves,
Lit by ambient sun.

How foreign, that sun!
Mine hurts I thrust it
On enemies or I eat it.
It burns me with love for clamorous women
Heroines with vicissitudes,
Who had babies or never had babies,
Ones with scars and ones mid-chapter.
Oh my heart. Viragos who build themselves out of glass
Every morning from the shards they find in their beds.

Wild

Your smile is as fitting as your shape when sitting on mine.
Your toes in the throws I’d spy and be thrilled by their curl,
Their stutter,
Their whimpering sigh.

Bitch, Please!

Painted faces,
Filigree bracelets,
By the light of the chandelier.
Hemmed curves,
To be observed,
A handsome man to be interned,
Perfumed hair,
Fluted glasses,
A handsome man is making passes.
Hunger masked,
Who will he ask,
Please look at me look at me look at me.

Oh bitch, please!
A man so conceived
Will drunkenly fumble with you, then leave;
The picture of sadness your face will be.
But perhaps that’s how you’ll learn, like me,
That the woman in life with happiness truest
Is not she who has the most men, but the fewest.

Pigeons from Hell

I love you very dearly
But baby even I
Need to get my tax done
Yearly

Why’d You Have To Go and Make Things So Complicated?

Dear atheists, why
Do you think the sky
Is falling
Cos people
Dig steeples?
It’s galling
Occam’s Razor’s not cool
When fools
Forget
It’s a heuristic tool
To rate
Your ideas
Not hate on your
Peers
Even if
They’re God fearing swill
Take a pill
Please chill
Don’t let bigotry
Run uphill

Dear Baby Boomers, Please Die Faster

Stabbing at leaves at ten in the morning
Standing on your front lawn yawning
Beige slacks and a polo shirt at ten
Tuesday morning in sunshine and Ralph Lauren