Waiting for an Epitaph

Never have I been so inspired
the words flow freely
how the heavens rain down with a beauty
the freedom she has given me
singing loudly once more
unashamedly
dancing badly
in my front room,
whilst the cat watches
the black bird
circling,
whilst other writers
sit contorted
in front
of Remingtons,
the ribbons
ripped and brittle,
the hammers rusted
and asleep.
The writers
wait for a sparrow to fly down
and spark them into life,
whilst the ink dries on this page
I find a calmness
in this emptiness
so I stop waiting for an epitaph
and start to live

The Bird of Paradise

For years,
From a distance, I’ve admired you
Whilst up close
I was uncomfortable and contorted in my own skin
Twisted inside out, upside down
Weighed down by the weight of rejection
I was ballast
A memory skips into view
An offering. A book.
Returned ridiculed by a friend

For years
I’ve wondered about you
Whilst curled in bed
Entwined in the arms of others
And in passing there has been
A drip feed of emotions
Slowly
Softly developing
Revealing themselves in all their beauty
Softly yet slowly presenting
The opportunity that you accepted
Leading to the weight that lifted itself

For years
I’ve desired you,
To end up spending one night in your company
Adjacent
Parallel
In the newest of surroundings
No kisses but the gentlest of embraces
Our lips never touching
Just patience I say to myself.
because for years to come I will always admire you
Be it close
Or be it from afar and
I will dance like a bird of paradise for your affection

Open Your Heart (Final)

The capacity to love is hidden within.
It's better to be open and hurt,
than to be closed and numb.
There is so much beauty in the smallest of moments,
the capacity to love is concealed,
open up and let the world in

Bukowski Underground

Encased on the tube
I saw a young man
He must have only been 23
Stubbled
Prickled
Slightly pickled
Sitting there he read Bukowski
Oh how it filled me with hope for this world
As long as his words are read
We all have hope
even if religious warmongers and
zealots kill each other whilst
politicians
betray us and each other
As long as his words still inspire
We all have hope

The posters screamed by
Actors with chiselled looks
Carved out of stone
Names that continue to sell tripe to the masses
Movies that numb
And I just sat there
Wondering
How it would feel to be successful
To be a name that is known
But for me the path is clear
The choice is simple
My destiny rings true
I am here to inspire
one singular
drunken broken hearted man
who sits vibrating at the speed of light
through the clotted arteries of London

Saturday 29th March 2009

With a heart full of hope, of
a newness being fulfilled
Finally our lips collided and
It set me on fire
Sparks glittered from the pit of my belly as
I traced the embers
around the edges of your eyes whilst
your fingers
shadowed my tattoo

I whisper to myself
Closing my eyes and breathing in,
breathing in deep,
so the cool salty sea air
tames this blaze.
I whisper to myself
‘Patience…
…enjoy each meeting, each caress,
every
delicate
embrace.
Be patient but be yourself,
honest and open.
emblaze the love you contain across star filled skies
shower yourself
in the beauty that has entwined itself around you
cover yourself in her.
Yet,
let her see you at your worst,
unshaven, scarred and
down with despair at the lack of success
with nowhere to turn.
Yet,
let her see you at your best
painting words that you hide
in secret places,
flowers arriving at her doorstep,
dance together
out of time
out of step.
Laugh joyously whilst walking
hand in hand, arm in arm along the horizon.
But above all, let her
rest her weary head against your chest
as the evening becomes morning
and as the cat sings for food,
brush her fringe from her eyes and tuck it behind her ears
let yourself fall and believe that love is held in your arms