Tag: love

pre-birthday poem

The piano has been drinking –

it plays the tune of a whore.

I am the mess you made me leave behind in a

spillway where dry docks scar from salt, but …

pour me a little more.

I know it’s late,

but pour me a little more before my teeth

catch words tumbling out of my mouth.

where this has nothing to do with me

Reaching for the wind in the branches,

tickles fingertips like a feather on your thigh.

In the water, you plumb the sea for cloaks of stingrays –

the ripples cradling your body.

You lay there until your feet and hands looked like crumpled paper,

body a breathing corpse

having  been diving for coins like a fish trapped in a well.

Nothing stays buried – your hands belong in the shadows.

I never thought I would see you here in this place

where words are cheap and lies are free.

finders keepers

Climb a mountain, sink to the sea –

all in search of you.

I scratched my feet on rocks this morning –

didn’t see them with the sunlight shadow boxes over my toes.

Knowing where you hide and where to find you

not unlike nursing a rattlesnake – fingering it’s scales, wanting to pop them off one by one.

I have found I’ve lost myself as much as I’ve lost you

in this crushing love – barreled chest caving in from a thicket of silence –

and the lack of you.

Stains of you tarnish my eyes – that rattlesnake back on top of my brain, scoring it –

invisible weals inside my spirit cannot float.

Instead, they are pasted on like poorly mixed plaster.

The spirit should not be still,

while mine sits in quietude

in a garden where sticks lay split with inaffection.

And there you are, having kicked through brambles, rolled through

dried seeds and rotting fruit like that dying apple everyone has bitten into.

the month of love, lust and craziness

Welcome to February – the month of love [insert pretty love heart here]. What’s not to love about love? My favourite dirty old man, Bukowski wrote grandly about love –

‘Love is all right for those who can handle the psychic overload. It’s like trying to carry a full garbage can on your back over a rushing river of piss.’

Hmmmmmm. True that, but we do it all the same … Here’s a prettier love quote from the evergreen Walt Whitman –

‘In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.’

The month of love and out-and-out lust means I’ll be hanging tags with little slices of love pencilled on them around Blackstar and writing love/lust haiku, haibun and other poetry That’s right – all pieces about love, lust, love you wish you’ve never had, the love you can’t have – the agony that is la douleur exquise; people you have to love from a distance, first love, stoned love, broken love and lust that leaves you broken, bleeding and bloodthirty.

Some people may identify themselves in these poems because I write about what I know, what I want and what I know I can’t have.

The jewel in the crown of love songs for me over the last little while is ‘Northern Wind’ by City and Colour. I’m ever so slightly obsessed with Dallas Green and am going to be his second wife.

Here, have a fap listen to Dallas …