Turn back the pages – March 2010

20170730_215337-1.jpg

 

Brush up your windswept look
No need to hide those tear-prone eyes,
Darkness will descend over the lake
And its wave-ridden waters
Before you know it.
Only the haunting howling
Will be left.

It’s make or break time,
Maybe you’ve built something strong –
But even then, you never know
Where the next gust’ll come from.

 

Advertisements

All of us, messed up, in pain

You leave me with bite marks,
Fantasy plans of tying me up tight.
But when it comes to real tears
Or hearing my calls as I drown,
You turn your music louder
Cover my voice with drunk stutters.

Now, just the other day:
“Give it all up” you say, “come, let me show you the way”
Promised me an ear, “Come on, give up on the pain”
If I’d just let go of the meds, stop reaching out for professional help…

But now, where are you now, dicky dick dick
Enjoying my tears from afar, finding joy in my fear ?
Stroking your c*ck at the thought of me lost?

I promised I’d crown you and you laughed – not your play
Maybe the wisdom of your years (that you do have!)
Tells you you’re right, you’re too old to care,
And this girl? She’s too young to know.
Trouble, trouble. Just raw, needy trouble.

But what happened to love, to trusting, believing?
When did you become too lazy to care
And I, your light, become a burden,
A truth, too heavy to bear?

Yes, my pride’s hurt, and yes I’m messed up
No, I don’t hide it, fuck no, I don’t blame you.
Yes, I get scared and hey, yes, I’m scary
I scare you, I know, but aren’t you scared too?

YET behind these addictions, I know you hear it boo
The same fear rips through you, I’m sorry to say.
Shake your head all you like, give up on the world
Out-talk it, you’ll try: “No Silence, not you!
No! Peace, not your touch
Stop the voices, shut up, leave me be, stay away!”

—-

Whisperings, baby, turn your ear, just listen.
In truth, they say “Honey, don’t let go
I know you’re scared we’re leaving but –
No, angel, no,
We want to stay.
This burden you bear, shift it over here.”

Your addictions and mine, just chemical aids.
What if if we both found a wide open space,
Thick forest of fears, the depths of depression,
A sheer, blinding darkness…
And sat there a while.

The different parts of me, collection of us,
(Most of our friends are here too, if you let yourself see.)
All of us, messed up, pissed off, in pain, too proud,
Hiding and hidden. What for?
Open up, damn it. Don’t be ashamed,
I’m not – will not, accept to be told.

But I will hold your hand,
Yes, and sob in my sleep
Now here’s the cliché: I want to believe

Luxury and adventure await, if only we trust.

 

Turn back the pages – July 2010

A shower in Venice

Wash away years of dust,

Gallons of Seawater

Plastered to your skin:

Only the dark grime

Under your nails is proof

It’s there.

The water runs, and with it

Memories of the day

The gentle lull of the boat

Fingers outstretched

Bridging the gaps in generations

Languages mixed to match.

In remembrance

I close my eyes

Against the sun,

The sting of the soap.

Slowly the waves of water

Win over the other waves

The waves of heat

Breaking against

The shiny sides of a 

“Bateau de Plaisance”

Like a shirt of freshest silk

I don the silvery flush of water

Washing away

Thousands of years of crumbling dust

And gallons of seawater

That we try do drown

With a light mist of

Water from home.

Turn back the pages – August 2009

20150802_140901-1.jpg

Like burning Charcoal
Being drowned to black again
Like seeing darkness
Swallow all life around
It’s like being awake
When sleep takes over
But most of all (and over all)
It’s like the music playing
Over mourning heads further down the road
It’s about playing football in the sand
And sitting squashed in bumper cars
Or just about playing a thousand new roles
In a plastic-strewn landscape.
It’s mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters
And having children on our knees.

Winds, be still.

sdc12698Everything is chaos.

Battering winds, flying debris,

Blood, bruises, lightning

Deafening crashes – …….

 

Respite. A few seconds

In the eye of the storm, I stand

And brace my soul for the next

Wave – immerged, submerged, drowning.

 

And so the cycles waltz along

As I stagger looking for shelter

In any shape or form,

Pure, distilled, strange or familiar (mixted or dry).

 

Until I’m caught – softly softly

Brought to see the calm & charm

Of these here shores, our own.

 

There’s a half-moon stain

Deep dry red on the table.

In another room a glass

And the unmade bed staring, empty.

 

Echos. All that’s left

Of wine, and chills, and new ways

To fix my wavering will,

Gather the screaming winds

 

And be still.