Saturday, October 28, 2017

This Angel on my Shoulder


He sits in silent contemplation
Monochrome white
His stillness unperturbed
By the serrated energy
Of my life

Wing covered eyes
He waits in silent grief
When tears creep
Through the hooded lids
Of my eyes

He sits in
Homochromatic
Weightlessness
In colours
Before him
I cannot hide

The pounding
And the heart beat
Of men I have held
Leave him
Unperturbed.

He knows
My deepest longing
To find
Not love, but
The difficult simplicity
Of myself

This angel
On my shoulder
Sits and contemplates
And waits, till
I chose not to hide

And sometimes,
Just sometimes
Through these
Hooded tears of mine
He reaches out
To touch me

To tell me
In the whispering
Silence
It is enough
To be myself
Surrounded by
The wings
Of an angel
On my shoulder

____________________________________________
My thanks to Neil from Hoodedwept whose passion and love for his creative clothing providing the inspiration for this poem.  Thank you


Wednesday, October 25, 2017

A Mothers Love


She expelled me
With great relief
On lookers say
With pride and joy
That says more
Of them
Than her

Her joy
Was my expulsion
Her pride
She had them fooled
But I swam in
Her Artic waters
I knew her rage

I kept my balls
Locked from her
Castrating gaze
Our love was best
At a distance
Silence, our language
Of choice

The years ground
Ground us down
The perfume
Of her depression
Clung to my being
And long before
Her leaving

I left for my
Survival.  Our parasitic
Relationship severed
I was the son
She did not want
She the mother

I did not need

The Insomniac


The dark grips
And prizes open
Flickering eyelids
To stare
Into
Silence

Dreams recede
Slowly, the
Aftertaste of
Memory, though
Uncertain and unsure
Realities hallucination

Silence shattered
The monotonous
Hooting of a
Random owl
Like the whining
Of a Grindr hook up

They say to
Count breaths
Monotony to
Dull the mind
To slip, once more
To sleep

It never works
I need the scent
Of the memory
Of your body,
Your breath
Your lips

Your…….

Saturday, October 14, 2017

I suppose


Long of limb
He straddled me
I suppose we could
Have talked
But words by then
Were redundant.
Texted agreements
Bent by desire
Reflected intention
But not reality
For ecstasy
Entered, transforms
The certainty of meanings
Until we returned
To the shore
Of our beings
Spent, satiated
And our selves
Separated once more
Reclothed, re-entered
Our different
Realities


Sunday, October 8, 2017

Words


Words, slice
With the
Quiet incisiveness
Of paper cuts.
Knifing the
Scabby crusts of
Of recollections

Scarified memories
Murmur in
Mutiny at the
Sound. While
Slumbering skeletons
Shake, disturbed by
The tone,

Of fretful anxiety
And reasons hastily
Vomited into
Interpersonal space
Drawing breath
Masquerading for
Listening.

While the
Mask of niceness
Leeches rage
That God should
Maintain silence
Subjecting her, to
The indignity of uncertainty

And my
Slumbering skeletons
Memories of
Maternal Medusa
Sigh and subside
While alcohol

Swabs the cuts

Tuesday, October 3, 2017

The Theatre


They played
Their parts
These parts of me
Parts of me
That were not me
Yet, perhaps
They were.
These shadows
Shades of memory
Congealed with
Fear and repetition
Skeletons of shame
Solidified, strutted
Across the stage
Of me

But I
Have grown tired
Of theatrics
And of tricks
Of parts and pieces
Sewn and stitched
With threads of guilt
The quilt of the parts
Doesn’t warm
The heart

So, forgive me
If I do not applause
And yet,
Yet, the parts
They played
Their part
They kept me
In the play
Till life
Could take

The part

Sunday, September 24, 2017

The Film


Standing in the corner
Amongst the bohemian
Brotherhood of buddies.
And wine laced laughter
I pass you.

I pass you again
As lips, with
Subtle sensuality
Kiss the body
Of Shiraz

We sit, while
Strangers unknown
Play life’s dramas
In the safety
Of a screen

We sit,
Strangers, you and I
Then miss
Each other
In the leaving

Yet seeing
We saw each other
Perhaps that was enough
Perhaps, but
Perhaps not


Friday, September 22, 2017

The intimacy of anonymity

Be silent
Do not speak
Nor whisper
Your name
Its weight
I cannot
Carry

Don’t burden me
With your
Weight of history
Your body
In my arms
Is all
I can bear

Your tears
Do not
Move me
As our sweat
Trickles and
Pools in puddles
Between us

Be silent
Let seconds
Merge, as our
Bodies fuse
And breathe
Blends in
Muted moans

Then go
Unknown, back
Into your skin
Pick up
Your history
Leave me in
Intimacy, unknown





Sunday, September 17, 2017

This inconvenient age


I should perhaps
Act my age.
Begin to settle
Into stultifying
Safeness.
The endless looping
Of mindless stories
To reassure that once
I held some relevance

Perhaps I should
Act my age
Accept with ungracious
Chagrin the things I missed
And smile with
Jealous maliciousness
At youth’s reckless
Gluttony of life.
Perhaps I should

But perhaps I won’t
For this is an inconvenient age
When chronology and attitude
Are at their antagonist best
While chronology creeps
At light speed
The insipient rebellion
Of youth blooms with
Flagrant disregard

At this inconvenient age
I will waltz
With the devil, and
Drink Bacchus’ cup
A broken heart
Is freed from fear
Its fragments resilient
Can carry regrets
Without fear of hell


Saturday, September 16, 2017

Fog


It creeps surreptitiously
Choking dawns arrival
While dreams flickering
Play on screens
Of neural emptiness

Colour and diversity
Bleached into
Ethereal whiteness
Realities edges
Blunted

Birds wait in the
Suffocating sameness
While silence sighs, it’s
Aria of stillness
And dreams flickering

Fade
As day, stealthy
Creeps into the
Crevasses of sleeps
Blissful emptiness


Saturday, September 9, 2017

Mown Grass


I crossed with
Mindless haste
Intent on fashion
Or, to be more precise
The salesman of the fashion

Somewhere half way across
The pungent scent assaulted
The odour of cut grass
Offended that its fecundity
Should now, impotent die

Then realising where I was
I saw those lines
Marked black
Straight lines
Tests of masculinity

Pubescent boys
Who ran
Straight and fast
Gained the accolades
Men in the making

While insects rose
Before me
In choruses of
Orgasmic delight
Feeding on decaying grass

I, in stepping
Out the lines
Remembered
The shame, of
Always coming last



Friday, September 8, 2017

Moments


The pressure of his hand
Anxiously uncertain
The sinewy sensuousness
Of quadriceps rising
To kneel in
Supplication or adoration
Ambiguously unknown

The warm toxicity
Of breath
Eyes searching
The boundaries
Of the face,
For some tenuous flare
Of recognition

Time eclipsed
In the masked ball
of reversed reality
Where nakedness is
Revealed but not
The intimacy of
Our name

Moments,
Fragments
Of time hunted
With Erotic intensity
The weight of bodies
Then elided from the day
Held in memory



Monday, September 4, 2017

Love's Distance


From afar
He said
I love you

He meant it
At least, he believed
He meant it

The residual afterglow
Of the friction
Of bodies

Warmth
Mistaken
For love

Pupils dilated
Search the contours
Of our faces

His history
Just beginning
Mine etched in lines

I love you
He said
Hoping it was true

But ours
Was a case
Of mistaken identity

He the youth
I might have been
I the man he might be

Too much distance
Too much hope
Too much fear

I love you
He said, with
Perfunctory politeness

I smiled
Knowing
Love’s distance


Friday, September 1, 2017

Same - Same


Once more
The barricades
Are built, and
Words hammered
Into one dimensional
Weapons.
Complexities are
Flat-lined into
Slogans
And flags unfurled

Men, who in
Humbler times
Acknowledge the
Unknowability
Of the mind of God
Assume the arrogance
Of God above God
And claim to know
The mind of
The Unknowable.

The foundations
Of society
Threatened by
A definition
Rather than
Our rage,
Our greed
Our failure of compassion

I have walked
These paths before
And smelt the
Sulphuric acidity of
Men’s impotent rage
That their fire and brimstone
Did not pillars of salt make
Of all the poofters in the place.
Instead in their fear
They shouted
As if that
Would send us
All to hell

Beneath the clamour of
The shouting
I hear the silent sound
Of grieving
Hope interned
In the mound of
Broken hearts
The dove of peace
Flown once more
And love
Cremated in anger’s fury

When will we learn?
When will we bow
In humility before
The diversity in creation

And accept
The diversity in humanity



Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Where are you now?


Where are you now?
Since you left

I have learnt
To live
With the dull ache
Of the absence
Of your substance

Where are you now?
Since you left

The reverberation
Of your laughter
Echoing
In the empty spaces
Of my heart

Where are you now?
Since you left

Still I crave
The sunshine
To be dulled
By your shadow’s
Eclipse

Where are you now?
Since you left

Strong bud
Not fully bloomed
Life forming
Not yet set by
Time’s calcification

Where are you now?
Since you left

Eight years
Have gone by
Since we
Kissed goodbye

You are gone my son

Beauty


Beauty
Flickers
In fluid form
For incandescent
Seconds

While I
In mesmerised
Stupor, seek
To immortalise
In memory

What I should
Have learnt by now
That beauty
Can’t
Be.

Yet still, with
Impetuosity
And a fools folly
I reach out
To touch, to hold

To gaze, while
Beauty flicking
Across his face
Smiles, knowing
My desire



Sunday, August 27, 2017

Words 2017

After so long not posting or writing, it is wonderful to feel the urge once again to write poetry.  The below is a rusty first after such a break to get back into the way of writing.




Words……..constipated
By lack of use
Collapse into black holes
Of neural spaces

Imagination
Withered and wrinkled
A prune like kernel
Shrivelled into goat turd consistency

Still…I feel
The tide begin to stir
Seeping through capillaries
The hint of creative ability returns

The silence of survival
Begins to crumble
Once more I feel
His breath

He, who waited
In still silence
Waiting….for me
The muse of words