Black as soot and just as soft
The woolen carapace wraps your form
Quiet as night's collapse you flee
The sermon and the hawthorn.
The writing pressed into your palm
The eagle's head upon your back,
The devil take you now for sure,
You and all your tracts.
Picking and packing the pieces
Filling the envelopes one by one
Like blind mice leading a grizzled cat.
Equality is sacrosanct,
One piece out of place a morning disaster.
I need tweezers for a job like this,
Fingers too fat and cold,
Pinch too hard and all is lost.
There, carefully drop and seal.
Another done, 23 yet to come.
The frost is hard on hoary ground
As salt is thrown and boots crunch grass.
There's nothing in these whitened morns
To warm the heart as seasons pass.
Ears and fingers burn alike
With cold worse than any fire,
As head plunged into the wind I stride
In a wardrobe full of wool attire.
The glass is thicker,
Harder to parse
As she moves as a muffled shadow behind.
Colours bleed and blend,
Shapes become her
As she moves east along the balcony.
Dressed in pink
She seems surprised
Thousands upon thousands raucously greet her
Flags raised and waved.
She reflects them,
Smiling and waving
Uncharacteristically, anachronistically
Warm and proud of her people
Only to be upstaged.
Resentment is born behind that smile.
Close those apps,
Put them away,
They're probably meaningless anyway.
Let Facebook sleep,
It's your turn, too,
I'm sure no one will notice if you do.
Power it down,
Let fall the lid,
It's time for bed and time you did.
Close those eyes,
Put cares away,
They can wait for another day.
It's time to sleep.
Full,
Replete,
Quite enough to eat.
Round,
Rotund,
Rolling and jocund.
Calm,
Content,
Time well spent.
The weekly sigh of relief
Breath out, it's over
Curl another page of the book.
Line up what's done and let it go,
Give those things time
While you take pause.
Breathe in the comfort of the familiar
And rest.
God, the euphoria
As the final card's played
The table is clear
The last hand laid.
I can see how gamblers
Become so enrapt
When it falls into place
And the last piece snaps.
After losing for weeks
And casting blame
There are smiles all round,
We won the game!
Somewhere at the shops sits an old owl
Alone and sad amongst the shelves
As bustling shoppers come and go
Thinking only of themselves.
The owl stares out at other toys
With a feeling that it doesn't belong
It shouts out a little girl's name
But can't be heard above the throng.
And somewhere far away that girl
Pricks up her ears and looks around
The hairs rise on the back of her neck
As if she's heard a familiar sound.
"Mummy, where's Soft Owl?" asks the girl
And Mummy's stomach turns to stone
Somewhere there's a girl in tears
And somewhere there's an owl alone.
I'm a tyrannosaur with two tiny claws
No one knows what they're there for.
I'm a killer robot sent into the past
I'd fire my laser but my batteries won't last.
I'm a shark rising up from beneath
I'd bite your boat but I'd break my teeth.
I'm a nuclear bomb high up in the sky
Falling so fast but I don't know why.
I'm a knight errant sent into war
But my sword's too heavy to lift from the floor.
I'm a suicide risk with a gun to my head
If I wasn't so scared of life I'd be dead.
I'm a star on the brink of supernova
One more push could tip me over.
I'm the grim reaper playing at chess
Ignoring the board because my hair is a mess.
I'm just a man staring up at the ceiling
Deaf and blind, devoid of feeling.
The machine hums to life
And with a boom-beep
Announces its readiness,
Flashing its cursor.
This is it: a black screen, a glowing prompt.
Daring interaction, but reassuringly dumb.
I press a key and the letter instantly appears.
I press another and another,
Jam my hand down on the keyboard
Producing strings of gibberish.
This is a mechanical mirror for all my words and non-words,
Reflecting genius and idiocy alike.
Imagine the worlds that can be wrought,
Imagine the fusion of mechanical and human brains.
I hit Return to begin my Ovidic opus.
"Syntax error."
Dashing through the rain
With a child in each hand
Splashed by puddles again
Today's not going as planned.
Bell on mobile rings
Mummy's train's delayed
Can we grab a few things
And make sure the milkman's paid.
Oh jingle blow, I suppose so
Jingle all the way
Oh what fun we're going to have
On this wet and windy day!
The ceiling dips to meet my hand
And fingertips relay its texture
Of moisture hung on damp stone
And heart rock frozen within.
The calyx of a newborn stalagmite
Juts like an anemone.
This limestone is alive
Moving and growing at the pace of ages
Profound and passive
It marks time in drips and echoes.
I pull my hand away
Unwilling to disturb the dark.
Death by misadventure
The verdict given here
Is black and white like justice
Though nothing's quite that clear.
The nomenclature covers up
The tracks of history's shame
Where the victor calls the shots
On who's right and who's to blame.
The bias is inherent
In every written word
The only truth is here and now
The past is long disturbed.
I caught you like a vampire bat
Dropping from the sky,
A bad disease,
A swarm of fleas,
Or grit blown in my eye.
I caught you like a flat tyre
Driving down the road,
A hornet's sting,
A wedding ring,
Or a plague of falling toads.
I caught you like a catkin
From a hornbeam high above,
A rhino horn,
A cactus thorn,
Or a bad case of love.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
I don't contain much meat,
My arms are thin and stringy,
My legs are sticks with feet.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
I'd probably taste quite bitter,
I've never done much exercise,
Always been more of a sitter.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
I wouldn't cook very well,
I burn in the slightest hint of sun,
That's how I can tell.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
I don't go with any veg,
Potatoes and peas just make me sneeze,
On that you have my pledge.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
I'd serve you better alive,
I could fetch you fruits whenever it suits,
And fresh honey from the hive.
Please don't eat me Mr Cannibal,
Have you heard a word I've said?
If you're hungry for a slap-up meal
Eat my friend John instead.
The moon draws blood as it passes
Under a clutch of harpies prowling
Beware those winged knives in the night
And the witch at the window howling.
The wind pushes tears aside
With teeth that nip at fingers
Beware the banshee's keening wail
As those echoes of the underworld linger.
Mincemeat made
Pastry chilled
Rolling pin ready
Flour spilled
Pastry rolled
Cutter pressed
Cracks appearing
Don't get stressed!
Into the tins
Twelve neat cups
Spoons of mincemeat
Filled right up
Into the oven
No lids here
Crumble topping's
The thing this year
Soon the kitchen
Breathes that smell
Of spices, fruits
And booze as well!
Out they come
At frantic pace
Leaked everywhere
Always the case
Leave to cool?
Who does that?
Into the mouth
In seconds flat
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Tongue blazing
Well worth it
Tastes amazing
Above, the sky was blue
But nothing is ever what it seems,
There's a time for selling truths
And a time for selling dreams.
Promises are well and good,
But they cast a shade where lies can grow,
The ground had seemed so firm
But cracks were beginning to show.
Nobody could ever predict
The strength of the river running beneath
Exit paradise,
Enter the garden of disbelief.
Standing at the corner walls
In lurid dress your finger curls
To beckon febrile marks inside
As every blackened flower unfurls
Salome avert your eyes
Hand dealt and frankly played
With sweat and skin in that green light
Ambitions and morals then mislaid
With dark rimmed eyes you stalk the night
Your service to perform
With a basket of lies to choke the cold
And keep your children warm.
Dust to dust we said goodbye
Laid the wreath above you,
Snow fell on that shovelled earth
And stopped the flow of time.
We gathered in a nearby church
Exchanged our tales of life and laughed
At all the things you'd said and done
And papered over cracks.
Eyes aglow with winter's fire
Reflections of Aurora's spark
As thunder peels from chasmed skin
That parts in a cavernous scowl.
A single curl juts from a mole
High up on his left jaw side
Limpet-like it grips him
Pulsing as he grinds his teeth.
He turns to spit and leaves an ear
Of dense black hair regarding me
Then turns again and leaves a note
Dull as earthenware, open voweled
"No".
The flames have come
Held aloft with bitter fingers
They march tradition's beating drum.
Colours together in common cause
With the smell of paraffin rags burning.
Remember! Remember!
The smoke hoarse call
Rings from boarded streets
As black boots tread the hills once more.
In the dark they walk those paths
The light comes first and then the noise
The cordite crack and then the horn.
Beware! Beware!
Bonfire has come.
Click clack
They're on their way back
The tigers in the park
Are on the attack
With eyes on fire
And padded claws
The jungle home
For them no more
Where children laugh
Their curious games
The tigers stalk
Their night campaigns
The universe
In pupils shine
The advent of
The cage consigned.
A shout up the stairs and down I come
Amid the dust and debris lies
The curtain pole with drapes attached
And one poor boy, dark hair dusted white
Looking at me with apologetic eyes
Plaster drops from the wall to the floor
And I don't know what to say.
