23 Apr 2015

King Kong





I always see him at the beginning
Not hanging
From the Empire State Building
Faye in his hand
Half struggling
Half waiting for it

I think of him first, in the jungle
Before they force him onto the crowd
Before the capture

Just doing his thing
Terrorising the locals
Even killing one or two
Out of necessity

Beauty did not kill the beast, motherfucker
In the end, he just didn’t fit into their
View of what the world is

And well - goddamn…



12 Apr 2015

New England




For some reason I have, in my mind
Lived there for so many years now

Amongst all the postcard clich├ęs
And mirror image fields
Birds and rivers
Small churches within towns
Others would only ever
Drive through

But to write it down
To record this second life
That would expose the falsehood
Remove the curtain to show me
Sitting at this screen
Looking out onto the growing garden of my
Real home
The blue sky so bright
Flat and unwelcoming
Keeping my heart indoors

The same New England sun
Shining on the white painted houses
Across the street here
Now

Not too different
Maybe the details only
The birds
Churches
The sorrow of the people

And no one makes postcards of
Where I actually
Live.


16 Feb 2015

Water




Empty as I am I reach for alcohol
And find only water
I reach for tobacco and fire and earth and ash
But find only water

And my heart is a rock
Granite and storm winds
A cold cave
Exposed

And electricity within the cloud
Is blocked
Something in the way
Stopping
Stopping

Disconnected and torn and
Far above it all I am
Untethered
Lilting

And I reach for dark red or
Clear spirit
And find only water
I reach out for pain or anger or solace
But find only water

And it quenches nothing
And is unsatisfying
And men pray to small gods
And kill for small gods
Deluded as to their time here

the words begin to falter
Trapped within lightning
And I resent the world you
Chose to leave behind.





21 Jan 2015

I have had this dream before



  
These visions are wasted on me
Wasted on my infant heart
Discarded by my limbic system
And yet every night

I ride the cursed fairground
Lights and circles and flashes of
What
Throwaway monsters
Empty threats of an approaching life

But the heart still hits a drum roll
Sending adrenaline through me
Ice water in my lungs while
I sleep

These bodies are not yet finished evolving
I think
Otherwise we would awaken
Into the morning sun unfettered
Joyous and without fear.


17 Dec 2014

2


Many people – in the absence of a total or complete personality – find they are adept in convincing themselves of who they ‘are’. Usually this persona continues on for so long that it becomes for all intents and purposes ‘real’ and any chance of real self-discovery is lost forever.

Quote of the December


The art which we may call generally art of the wayside, as opposed to that which is the business of men's lives, is, in the best sense of the word, Grotesque.   John Ruskin

24 Nov 2014

Testament to musclebound creatures and sirens that bring ships crashing to rocky deaths.




To fear the silence is to fear yourself
To reject isolation is to spurn your own
Continuing evolution

Not deep thought
Not abstract consideration of the void
Rather just plan nothing

Dropping the engine down from fourth
Slowed to a stop
An evening hillside
Eyes over the horizon of the city

Shielded from the posturing
Cocooned from the shouting
And screaming and music

Dancing to yourself
Secretly singing love songs
And the sadness of it all is a wave

And you rise and fall
With it
Delicately in the quiet

Nothing to prove
Nothing to fight for
But inside…

Still climbing granite boulders
Struggling toward the source of all hurricanes
Forward on gut instinct
Breaking chains
Napalm on every bridge
Bravely evolving in the near dark.