That drunken purchase,
in strip lit Tesco's at four in the morning
made me laugh as you returned with
spiky leaves and naff fake terracotta pot.
It moved houses with us
it's head stuck out of windows of vans
getting wind blasted on the motorway
Bashed and abused,
drunk students poured cider over it
and house mates ashed fag butts and spliffs
into its bare roots
It had three stalks
one taller than the other
and one wee stem
so that we named it the single child family plant
Our relationship sputtered and stuttered
and was finally stubbed out
i claimed the plant
If only cause i had somewhere
to call home
And could shift it!
It bobbed round other flats
saw lovers come and go,
and gradually sickened
leaves browning through neglect
i was terrible at watering it
and then drowned it
in over compensation
When that last hurried eviction came
and i headed west once more
Single child family plant
came with
but got relegated to parents shed
and overwintered with
garden furniture and rats for company
Life flowed onwards
Our summer festival reunion
broke down barriers
and opened new lines of communication
But our plant-
had definitely died and rotted in the shed
My mother ever the green gardener
come spring
pulled it out into the sun
and left it be
So on a recent soft rainy June day,
smoking and talking under the arbor
she pointed at its garish pot
No longer single child family plant
But a vigorous flowering bush
many stemmed
and heady with new growth
has arisen some wind carried stray seed
Out of your spontaneous alcohol fuelled
purchase
comes whole new growth
i wish you could see it bloom!
Tuesday 8 June 2010
Fridge surprise!
On returning late one night,
to closeted cottage
i let the fridge light
reveal a surprise hidden tight
Chocolate from France with love
ohh it tastes just right!
(yummm yumm all gone in my tum!)
to closeted cottage
i let the fridge light
reveal a surprise hidden tight
Chocolate from France with love
ohh it tastes just right!
(yummm yumm all gone in my tum!)
Pawn
She that lets herself be a pawn to men, will always sink and rise with the swell of fate-
We make our own lives out of the ends handed to us. Don't allow yourself to be buffeted by another's fear and inadequacy- Stand alone and strongly!
We make our own lives out of the ends handed to us. Don't allow yourself to be buffeted by another's fear and inadequacy- Stand alone and strongly!
Rag doll
The room circles round
with snapshots which just don't quite fit,
biting down into shoulder
no teeth to grip to stillness.
But this rhythm is yours
you push to the limits
and find nothing at the bottom of myself
but rags and straw.
Smoke screens and mirrors
have failed to hide this mystery
so carelessly woven.
Vigorously
but with a knowledge
which can only be intuitive,
you unpick these seams.
Like a rag doll
to these pointed sharp fingers
i'll fall, bounce and crash
tremble, twist and quiver
At the final push
only i fell into the valley below.
My hard won climb to the heights
will only be met with disinterest.
This was only ever a human tale;
with cloth for skin
and lambs wool innards,
i can only be returned
to the dusty half shelf
One reaches maturity.
It is time to put away childish things.
with snapshots which just don't quite fit,
biting down into shoulder
no teeth to grip to stillness.
But this rhythm is yours
you push to the limits
and find nothing at the bottom of myself
but rags and straw.
Smoke screens and mirrors
have failed to hide this mystery
so carelessly woven.
Vigorously
but with a knowledge
which can only be intuitive,
you unpick these seams.
Like a rag doll
to these pointed sharp fingers
i'll fall, bounce and crash
tremble, twist and quiver
At the final push
only i fell into the valley below.
My hard won climb to the heights
will only be met with disinterest.
This was only ever a human tale;
with cloth for skin
and lambs wool innards,
i can only be returned
to the dusty half shelf
One reaches maturity.
It is time to put away childish things.
Waterloo verse
Head in the clouds,
feet in the gutter,
arms around my waist
what does it matter?
OR AS HUGO THINKS IT SHOULD BE
Head in the clouds,
feet in the gutter,
arm's round your waist,
i must be a nutter!
feet in the gutter,
arms around my waist
what does it matter?
OR AS HUGO THINKS IT SHOULD BE
Head in the clouds,
feet in the gutter,
arm's round your waist,
i must be a nutter!
On hearing an old friend describe his girlfriend as proper mental..... made me laugh so i ran with it!
3 am phone calls,
texts that just don't stop,
drunken conversations,
and head fucks the lot of us.
Crazy and mad,
a real pain in the arse,
The ones to avoid
Evil harpies,
wicked witches of sex
A furious group are we
psychotic, licentious
needy neurotic
all of us
fit to be garrotted
Whether we left you,
or your still running from us
We are the ones you
bemoan in beer
and drug fuelled excesses
Either too mad, bad, vixen or bitch
best friend shagger,
Or frigid virgin desperate to hitch
How quickly we shift
from the arms of love.
Fall down the cracks
This distance you crave
We wish to save
If we be woman
our souls are stone
We are 'proper mental'
in need of straitjackets
and restraining orders
battle lines drawn
we cannot cross your borders
so who are we?
Who are we?
That awful bunch
Of exes....
texts that just don't stop,
drunken conversations,
and head fucks the lot of us.
Crazy and mad,
a real pain in the arse,
The ones to avoid
Evil harpies,
wicked witches of sex
A furious group are we
psychotic, licentious
needy neurotic
all of us
fit to be garrotted
Whether we left you,
or your still running from us
We are the ones you
bemoan in beer
and drug fuelled excesses
Either too mad, bad, vixen or bitch
best friend shagger,
Or frigid virgin desperate to hitch
How quickly we shift
from the arms of love.
Fall down the cracks
This distance you crave
We wish to save
If we be woman
our souls are stone
We are 'proper mental'
in need of straitjackets
and restraining orders
battle lines drawn
we cannot cross your borders
so who are we?
Who are we?
That awful bunch
Of exes....
taxi thoughts
Black contained wealth
glides by, as taxi windows
reflect passing streetscapes
and pavement treaders.
Sun like syrup,
pours into the cracks between buildings.
A break in a passing cloud
illuminates like theatre spotlight,
a ramshackle man,
a hand to mouth drunkard.
He stops and lets sun warm his cheek,
this piercing heat
like the thousand cheek slaps
from women in bars
less drunk than he
and feels nothing but the sensation.
Yet trussed up suit,
stuck in traffic
in stuffy cab
see's only the sun
beating down
and is envious for a moment
of the freedom that comes
from having nothing left to lose.
glides by, as taxi windows
reflect passing streetscapes
and pavement treaders.
Sun like syrup,
pours into the cracks between buildings.
A break in a passing cloud
illuminates like theatre spotlight,
a ramshackle man,
a hand to mouth drunkard.
He stops and lets sun warm his cheek,
this piercing heat
like the thousand cheek slaps
from women in bars
less drunk than he
and feels nothing but the sensation.
Yet trussed up suit,
stuck in traffic
in stuffy cab
see's only the sun
beating down
and is envious for a moment
of the freedom that comes
from having nothing left to lose.
Master of disguise
I am never sure of which side
will face me tonight.
We sit down in smoke filled rooms
under whiskey coloured half light
This cities loud yell
Still filling our brains-
Communication is stilted,
stifled,
overwrought and intensified
by the sheer enormity of everything to discuss.
A sidelong glance
across this heaving room,
can reveal
a parallel universe
of intricate and myriad meanings.
And yet it's this look which so deceives
for in the pit black of iris
still plays a light- a fire.
This flame can flare or flicker
and to look too hard
is to extinguish.
Your elusive personhood
twists and turns and like a prism
fractures light.
Your splitting self
becomes an untouchable
infinite reflection in the looking glass of life.
In a striptease of revelation,
i am allowed to glimpse
differing selves
that linger in the minds eye
occasionally i can touch your
chameleon skin.
But the hand may linger too long
or the mind will try to retain
this sensation,
this seductive communion.
So the skin will flush crimson red
and fingers will be burnt by poisonous secretions.
You play this game so magnificently,
i wonder at your sanity.
In having millions of facates,
do you still have anything at the core?
Or have you achieved this ultimate goal?
In the obliteration of one true self
is there delicious freedom
in being all things to all men?
Humanity does not desire intimacy.
Brute proximity to visceral reality alone,
Is almost to painful to bear.
So propinquity to another
can in it's desperate realness
become a stranglehold.
The shackles of stasis
are excruciating to you
time to shift and change
and break loose again
The master of disguise.
will face me tonight.
We sit down in smoke filled rooms
under whiskey coloured half light
This cities loud yell
Still filling our brains-
Communication is stilted,
stifled,
overwrought and intensified
by the sheer enormity of everything to discuss.
A sidelong glance
across this heaving room,
can reveal
a parallel universe
of intricate and myriad meanings.
And yet it's this look which so deceives
for in the pit black of iris
still plays a light- a fire.
This flame can flare or flicker
and to look too hard
is to extinguish.
Your elusive personhood
twists and turns and like a prism
fractures light.
Your splitting self
becomes an untouchable
infinite reflection in the looking glass of life.
In a striptease of revelation,
i am allowed to glimpse
differing selves
that linger in the minds eye
occasionally i can touch your
chameleon skin.
But the hand may linger too long
or the mind will try to retain
this sensation,
this seductive communion.
So the skin will flush crimson red
and fingers will be burnt by poisonous secretions.
You play this game so magnificently,
i wonder at your sanity.
In having millions of facates,
do you still have anything at the core?
Or have you achieved this ultimate goal?
In the obliteration of one true self
is there delicious freedom
in being all things to all men?
Humanity does not desire intimacy.
Brute proximity to visceral reality alone,
Is almost to painful to bear.
So propinquity to another
can in it's desperate realness
become a stranglehold.
The shackles of stasis
are excruciating to you
time to shift and change
and break loose again
The master of disguise.
Birthday Verse
In my eyes you are aging
grown shabby, bumbling and benign.
Trousers held up by string,
on our dawn walk to the sea.
Talking about trees and plants
you so wanted to tend in younger years,
yet gifted you were.
Artisan's hands, and a mind
of quivering complexity
pushed and pummeled you forward
to create, to perform.
Even now as we drive
down silent midnight motorways
and you slip through tiredness
into the separate universe
of the sleep deprived,
you mind will whirr and click.
And then in moment of lucidity
grasp and illuminate
an idea.
Just like the blood orange moon
winks through dark car windowpane
and highlights the corners
of your slumped sleeping body.
I cannot help but love you-
in ways old and strange
Time will not erode this i know.
grown shabby, bumbling and benign.
Trousers held up by string,
on our dawn walk to the sea.
Talking about trees and plants
you so wanted to tend in younger years,
yet gifted you were.
Artisan's hands, and a mind
of quivering complexity
pushed and pummeled you forward
to create, to perform.
Even now as we drive
down silent midnight motorways
and you slip through tiredness
into the separate universe
of the sleep deprived,
you mind will whirr and click.
And then in moment of lucidity
grasp and illuminate
an idea.
Just like the blood orange moon
winks through dark car windowpane
and highlights the corners
of your slumped sleeping body.
I cannot help but love you-
in ways old and strange
Time will not erode this i know.
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