Monthly Archives: May 2013

Blocking Out

I am so sick of your white lily swan song
And my hand upon the ticker, timing
I am so fed up with the hated, heated wrecked nerves
That swallow me whole the way I wish you had
I am going to move on and forward and fully
I am going to ingest this acidic regurgitation
And resume my normal programming
Because as long as I think of you
My volume, my channels, my reception
Are all on a topic I cannot discuss
A language no one else knows
Except you
And you are not possible
You are not happening

Live Well

You me and a cup of coffee
At an all-night eatery
With outdoor tables and heat-lamps
We discuss what life has done for us
You complain about your liver and lungs
And I tell you about my kids and mortgage
You sound wistful as the time skips back
And you remember days around the fire
Beers and long discussions about the universe
I chime in about the all-nights and crashed cars
Too much money lost at the casino on a Friday
I look briefly into the napkin dispenser on the left
The silver reflects back a face I’m not sure I recognise
A face with lines and loves
A face of grief and gratitude
I look back up to yours,
A face I still see as a teenager
A face of the loudest laughter I’ve ever heard
And the greatest smile I’ve ever known
And a heart
So beautiful
I could never tarnish
With my own poor excuses

Apartment Number 42

Our apartment,
Wedged right in the centre of 8 x 5
Smack bang in the middle of 3 buildings in a row
With a mustard entryway
Lime green elevator carpet
Pink candy coloured hallway
All the way to our front door
Where you would cook noodles on our gas stove
And I liked to watch with my feet up,
Through the balcony door wide open,
At the entertainment display
Of the people in the square world
Residing in the apartment block next door.

Carol King’s Tapestry was on repeat some nights
Somewhere, on someone else’s stereo
Carrying notes of tear stained lovers to my door.
It was laying down a soundtrack
For my viewing pleasure.

Some unknown pattern in that square across the way
Pulled down the shutters,
Blinking them off at different times
To lend an end to a day by retreat from the night.
Others preferred the world to watch
As the cutlery was laid at the table
And the evening news turned up loud
To combat street talk and sirens.
Later, as the world was winding its coil back in tighter
They would allow the evening breeze to touch their naked bodies.
My entertainment would change its ratings then
And I would sit, peering through my crossed feet
Lazing upon our white paint-peeled balcony
To admire their exposure.
Sometimes it was just a raised leg
Sometimes someone’s laughing face
But it was there
An imprint upon the night
I saw it,
It existed
And so did I
To someone else
As they watched me
Argue with you about broccoli in cream sauce
And you would say I was wrong
And kiss me
And I would say you were wrong and hit you with a towel
And then someone with their evening cigarette
Hidden from loved ones indoors
Would watch our display
The same way I watched them.

You and I would sit down
With a few different pairs of eyes and ears on us
And a soundtrack of Carol King
While I talked about my day
At our small table
On mismatched seats
As we ate our noodles together.
Later, my bare leg and your laughing face
Would remind them of their own open shutters
And that we are all each other’s entertainment.

First Published In Guerrilla Graffiti Magazine (2013)

One Glass

I am one glass away from demanding he arrives
With his weathered boots
And long jacket
To my front door
With his wily words
And wicked ways

I am one glass away from destroying the state
I tried so hard to believe in
But failed so grandly
At making work
Only to watch it slip through
As granules of unrecognisable fate

I am one glass away from making myself a bed
Laying in it curled up
All vulnerable skin and appendages
Waiting for the turn
Waiting for the change
Because it will happen now or soon

I am one glass away from throwing it in the face
Of someone I once loved
But now only see
Through a lens of despair
And drained emotions
Now catatonic, in a state of non-repair

You, Me and Crazy

I want to be asleep in the back of a car at sunset
As you drive too fast down a blood lit highway
Somewhere close to the last place to call it a night
I want to wake up as the sun descends over desert mountains
And deep gullies and predator animals
I want to end up in some backwater motel
Knowing I’m spending all night with you

I want to know that if we play a game of cards
I won’t hate losing because losing with you
Makes me win the best things like your tongue
And your body and your wicked mind made of twisted candy
I want to be the thing that makes you think
More than anybody else because no matter where you are
You want to share it with me and my strange thoughts

I want to be at a sunrise over a harbour with you
Coffee, keys and road maps in hand
Discussing the possibilities of love between land and sea
And why orgasms are a necessary component to so many mammals
Let’s get in that car and sing Patti Smith songs til out throats bleed
Smoke cigarettes til our sleep takes us far, far away
And make love like the next day is every single living creatures last

The Damned and The Forgotten

Take the battered broken beams
Which hold our heads up high
And build an early warming pit
To keep us safe and dry

Below our whispers and disgrace
Lie calm and solitude
If we wait here patient, still
We’ll see salvation soon

Next to knuckles bone and white
Next to weeping breath
We pray with every fibre felt
Of bright light after death

Inconvenient Kisses

Kiss me urgently
Kiss me out of time to the music
Kiss me before your morning coffee
Kiss me clothed as I walk into your shower
Kiss me out the front of the post office on a busy Thursday afternoon
Kiss me on the top of my head
Kiss me as we cross the road
Kiss me sweaty, breathless, after running in midmorning light
Kiss me while you read your favourite book
Kiss me on the shoulder, on my neck and under my ear lobe, on whim
Kiss me when its inconvenient
When I least expect
Now, always
Because you want to
Because you need to
Because you simply cannot resist

A Ghost At My Table

There’s a ghost at my table
And she hasn’t eaten anything I’ve offered

I think I shall see if it’s memories she is hungry for
I have a whole pantry of those just waiting for consumption

She might like my first kisses
My late nights of lovers and tantrums
My smoking and drinking
My mistakes and my messes
She can eat my childhood in a few gulps
There’s much there that might choke her
If she were to worry it before swallowing

Perhaps I mightn’t actually, just for now
She won’t starve if I don’t feed her
There are many people in the world who forget who they are
Their memories are left by roadsides for the taking
Some are blown about by careless winds
So many bubbles of moments swept up to be engulfed by another

Mine are colour coded, labelled and dusted
Kept carefully and away from direct sunlight
In specific rows

I think I’ll keep my memories,
I’ll eat them all for myself,
They will be sumptuous and delicious

My ghost can wait
For now

A Broken Suitcase

The handle fell off my suitcase
As I was looking for it
On the top shelf,
When it slid down from above
There was a clunk sound.
The handle remained in my palm
Whereas the empty vessel
Of a suitcase
Lay at my feet,
Saying sorry for hitting my shins
Upon its descent.

But it was my baggage
Which should have apologised,
My baggage, that demanded I pack,
That I remove everything I own
From the twelve drawers
And left hand side of a shared wardrobe,
My baggage, that separated my keys
And placed three upon a wooden coffee table
Near the front door.

My baggage didn’t kick my shins,
My baggage just demanded
That I use the broken suitcase,
Despite the missing handle,
Despite the empty vessel
I had once entrusted
In the shared wardrobe’s care.

With my baggage bound
Against my chest,
The weight of everything
I long ago brought with me
Clambers to stay
For when we next unpack.