Like a glass blower with a cold
Unable to stifle his sneeze
I’ve sent many chaotic breaths down the blowpipe
Ruining the smooth lines I’d planned
Too late now, to fix those kinks,
Nor return to the burner for another try
No,
Gotta keep blowing now
Accepting the imperfections as facets
Reflecting my palms,
Foretelling yet uncertain,
Just like the breath that made them.
One day
On the final day
On my final day
Some will hear of it, and maybe say
Ashes to ashes
While others say
No way! Dig a hole in the ground
That’s the right way
Either way, I can’t stay!
They’ll put me away
Somewhere far,
Far, far away
Where I will lay
Where I’ll remain
Or my remains will remain
My remains?
How?
That remains to be seen
Though definitely not remains to be seen!
That would be rather obscene
Imagine the scenes…
Sorry, I digress
Where was I?
I died, yes…
And my remains?
Still nowhere to be seen
Buried or blown away — either way
That’s my last day in the sun done
Until my tea leaf-like existence infuses with the next rainfall
Until the waves dissipate from the last time my name’s called
And that will truly be all
An existence steeped in life, steeped back into the earth
One way or another, I am returned
After that final sip,
It’s time to call it a day
Thank you and goodnight 🫖
I wonder when the day will come,
The day when I will be that weathered old man
Standing and staring at the traffic
Almost as if to say,
This is enough for me
I’mma stand here and watch the rest of you mugs run
You’ll all stop eventually
But fresh ones will keep coming
Keep on running
Pretending we have somewhere to be
As though the circles we run will set us free
No thanks youngun, this is far enough for me
Peace and love ✌🏽
If I were to find myself on the day of judgement
I’d tell God to join the back of the queue
There’s many more innocent hearts I’ve broken
And questions left behind,
within a lifetime’s silence
It is their eyes I fear the most
But I accept…
God?
God can have whatever is left.
A strange addictive quality—
The draw of yearning and desire
As though I’m playing hide and seek,
Yet deep down, I don’t want to find you
For the pain and pleasure is the pursuit
The resistance, the obstacles—
Each step a stumble toward a home,
Though I fear what I find will never be enough.
Merely an inn, a halfway place,
It will be the spark alone—
An ember fanned by my own breath
Its flicker swelling into a blinding inferno,
Until I can no longer see the way,
See the truth
Only the figures I manifest—
Dancing…in the flames.
Thus I walk
Willfully ignorant in pursuit of elusive bliss,
I shun the end of the road
For limbo isn’t torment,
If the journey becomes the station.
What do you write after ‘the end’ anyway?
I’d rather die half way than ever pen those words.
I can’t see the lines in my palms sometimes
Like I scrubbed too hard and washed them off by accident
I’m not sure where they went…
Nor am I now too sure about where I’m going
…It is still me right?
In a rolling meadow stands a solitary tree,
A mighty noble oak, it would seem.
Its facade broad and strong,
Yet marked by demise, long writ across its pale, brittle carcass.
Withered branches contort skyward, as if pleading for another day.
How cruel the fate, to stand frozen in a plea.
A once vibrant life, now a stark harbinger of the inevitable.
Imprisoned in time like the statues of Pompeii,
Cursed to stand like a rooted memory,
God’s own sculpted memento mori,
Longing to become the wind.
Spread, fold,
Stretch and steam,
Press, assess—
Then on to the next
Costumes, disguises,
Glad rags and sad,
Press, assess—
Then on to the next
Daily, nightly,
They come and they go,
Press, assess—
Then on to the next
Scraping, slamming,
Shutters pulled down,
Keep the actors dressed
Till the curtain comes down
I woke up late this blessed Sunday morning
No rush today, even the birds were yawning
All my chores done, there’s nothing for me to do
Nothing to do, except feel blue over you
I wasn’t expecting any guests today
So why were the blues standing in my hallway?
I barely set foot out of my bedroom
As upon my shoulders climbed the gloom
Please not today! I begged and I pleaded
I had a good week, I thought I succeeded?
The blues turned to me yet said nothing at all
His silent treatment always makes me feel small
So I guess we’re doing this? Fine let’s make some tea
No need for two cups, he just likes to watch me
The sun was still outside but that is where it stayed
Today the blues and I, will parley in the shade
Did you miss me all week? Is that why you didn’t knock?
Sorry friend I was busy running down the clock
Filling my time with all sorts to fill it
Holding it together so I dont accidentally spill it
What shall we talk about then old friend?
I won’t say ‘Im fine’, no need to pretend
Regret, guilt or shall we try something new?
Whatever it is friend, just make sure it’s true
You have a penchant for adding extra spice
Trust me though, what we already have will suffice
Just don’t take up the whole day please
Leave at least some of it for me to seize…
The mind should be an archive.
It should be a gallery, a library even.
It should be allowed to display,
Allowed to be discovered,
To be lost and forgotten,
And then be recalled once more.
But it seems the infrastructure is publicly funded—
How else could one explain the disrepair?
The corners cut, and misplaced items;
A theatre is required,
Yet all we have is a projector stuck on loop.
The resolution resoundingly underwhelming,
Footage stuck on repeat, and the controls broken.
So many unreturned items, yet no fines collected;
Unaccounted for, as the ledger is lost.
Dim lamps barely illuminate constellations of dust
As they settle like the first snow atop the shelves.
This was once a collage of colors,
In bloom, like sun-flecked flora through the mind’s shade.
Every artifact a vivid rendition of a lived reality—
The cleaner has been fired, it would seem.
Only a lonely librarian remains,
Armed with a broom and an unwavering resolve,
For he remembers the opening day,
The newborn baby smell of it all.
Oh, how efficient he was—
Everything had its place, and it was placed not a moment too soon.
Every thought, every word, every creative endeavor—
Embellishments had no place here.
The beauty of what is, was all;
A system of serene simplicity.
Yet, as the great library grew, the budget did not.
Entropy eventually enveloped these annals of time.
What is, was lost to what was, what will be, what could be, and perhaps what should be.
A chaotic cacophony usurped the simple melodies that once serenaded the corridors.
And then there was silence,
Aside from the whirring of the projector.
Now, with leaden steps, our librarian returns to his desk,
In his hand, a crinkled sheet that reads:
‘Help wanted, enquire inside.’
If only he could remember where he put the keys—
They’re in here somewhere…
Nothing changed yet everything did
As I took each turn in the road
Every last time was always on time
As I took each turn on the road
Your names reclaimed, only memories remained
As I took each turn in the road
Never again was never the end
Another friend fell behind at the bend
To walk alone
Are we the condemned?
I still look for you at the turn in the road..
Bruv!
You think the dark is coming out?
My eyes man look
They don’t twinkle no more
Wrinkled like the little black bag from the *offy
Probably got the same contents too
A special brew cocktail
Rolly* after rolly
Holy moly and all that Molly
Keep rolling mate!
Covered in snow and it’s spring
Holidays are coming
And I’ve got the sniffles again
Flying with the kites
My mouth shooting shots
Till I empty my magazine
Cos vices got me twisted
I swear it was a detour but man I think I’ve drifted
The mood shifted
I was so fucked I missed it
Till I fell out of the sky
And my black eyes cried
And the shakes reached my heart
Breaching the barriers
No *tinnies left in my carrier bag to mask it
These chills that got inside of me
They told me it’s called anxiety
They told me it’s gonna die with me
But it will off me first
Offering to quench my thirst
Like the offy where it started.
So that’s where I’m headed…
*offy – off license / liquor store
*rolly – rolled cigarette
*tinny – beer can
They say the time and tide waits for no-one
Damn I wish I learned how to swim
The waters up to my neck now
Chances are looking slim
Treading water but I’m tired
Dreading this day I never desired
I’d be a liar if I said I felt inspired
Today is not my day and I wonder where it went
Reminiscing glory that felt heaven sent
Feeling spent I protest that it was stolen
Give it back
I did not consent
Resenting the demons that whisper
‘You’ve got sweet nothing’ into my ear
Sending shivers of fear and dread
Whispers I used to fight but instead,
they career through me as if the demons knew me all along
Where did I go wrong?
Where did I go wrong?
Now Im tagging along
As if I actually belong
Trying to borrow a bit of heat
But this defeat is cold man
Feeling redundant and old man
I’m trying to tread but I don’t think this thread is gonna hold man
More sinking than swimming
My head is spinning
Legs seized
Im about to freeze and fall
This can’t be all I am but the demons tell me so
Well wishers say no but they’ll eventually leave
Throwing in their 2 cents but they’re so naive
I can’t hear their wishes the demons are too loud
I gotta fight them but right now I’m too bowed
Showing preference to deference I’m at their whim and mercy
I was bested once but now it’s just me that hurts me
I’m not angry with you anymore
I’m at a loss and disappointed
I know you don’t care
Most likely you don’t even know
I mean, I’m barely a speck of dust you’ve traversed through
What do you know of I?
If we stood eye to eye, would you even see me?
Of all the fireflies crowding your skies
How often do you notice the ones whose lights go out?
All you can see are the joyful
Illuminating your night-scape
Those without a torch are lost
Invisible to you
Though as I said
You probably never saw us
I’ve no-one to turn to in complaint
Nor would I want to dim their lights by getting too close
The torch I carry is no longer a beacon
But a relic
It’s long lost its heat
Just a crisp, oiled rag, sodden and defused
How unfortunate and bemusing
I suppose the only way to relight my torch is to keep flying
Let the breeze dry the tears as I tear through the dark
But sometimes I get tired you see
I cannot see where I’m going like I could before
The torch feels heavy without light
And the glare off others can overwhelm and blind me
So I need to sit and breathe but that is when the clouds come
Suddenly the north star fades completely and raindrops fall around me
I try to shelter my torch but it gets wet again
The weight grows again
Making my arms hurt again
I cannot see others down here but they are here for sure
More and more fall from the sky
Some still have the strength to land as do I
Others weakened by the darkness land hard
Helping one another maybe we can dry our torches?
Perhaps we can rise together and share the load
Like an extinguished phoenix rising from the ashes
With dreams of bursting through the clouds and into the sun
Reigniting our torches and joining the dance once more
The thought makes me hopeful
Today I’m not so sure
My arms hurt
I think I need to rest again
They call her the pink moon
The April moon
Atop her throne in the sky she sits
A beguiling Queen
In the darkest hour she somehow finds light
A beacon that makes us raise our heads skyward
Captivating eyes with her light
Clouds like the gentle sweeping of an artists brush grace her face
Yet they dare not linger too long for the sky belongs to her
Enchanted by her light, studying her features
Tell me, is she frowning, drowning or crying in despair?
Now look in your heart, do you feel the light?
Look up again and see her smile back at you
She saw all your scars and she’s still there
Quietly observing without judgement
Listening to your lifetime in a few fleeting moments
How fortunate we are for this April moon
This lofty exalted moon
At once my closest companion
Yet achingly out of reach
A swan sought to fly to a new lake
Biding his time for the journey would be long
Alone he had the whole lake to replenish his strength and prepare
One misty morning – reflecting the dreams in his eyes – he felt something
The irresistible urge to fly came like a swell and with two swift beats of his majestic wings he rose
The swan puffed hard, eyes fixed on the light on the horizon
Each beat lifted him gradually higher until he was clear of the cold water below
He rose higher and higher
An irrepressible feeling of ambition and ecstasy held him aloft
Shimmers of distant waters wetted his eyes and his appetite for adventure
And so he soared
Yet something was amiss
His light chest felt heavier
His deep breaths felt short
Looking left and right he now felt the weight of his wings
Their powerful majesty was now a burden
His bright white chest though strong could not bear the pressure
He began to fall
And fall he did
The distant inkblot of his old lake, swallowed the skyline
Like falling into the eye of a marble, he was soon surrounded by his old acquaintance
With a graceless splash he hit the water
Gasping as his breathless heavy chest rested against the cold water he prematurely bid farewell to
The swan spent so long strengthening his chest to beat those mighty feathered oars through the oceans of the sky,
that he forgot to stop and realise his mistake
His chest was already heavy
The stagnant smell of the lake filled his senses once more
Each breath shallower than the last
His fallen wings lapped against the water
And his heavy chest sunk further into the cold
I want what is mine already
I already want something else
Steady isn’t my style, think of all that I’d lose staying steady
No, thank you but i have to juggle it all
I refuse to be the clown in this circus
Struggling isn’t in my vocabulary you see
I’m the lion that can’t be tamed
The whip is in my hand
I’ll whip myself into shape before you ever see me struggle
In fact
You probably want to be me
And want what I had
What I’ve forgotten already
In a blink, you’ll eye up what she had instead
Or want to say what he just said
Words you don’t understand but sound profound
You’re not wandering the libraries
You’re elbow deep in the lost and found
I know, because you are me
You want what is yours already
You already want something else
You’re a clown that thinks it’s a lion
Now step aside, I have all you can give
You have no more
And that is all I want
The quiet seclusion of an empty street before me
Walking alone, hands in my pocket though it’s not cold
Silence sweeps all the way around the bend in the road ahead
Between the street lights my shadow plays hide and seek
And I can’t tell who is following who
Spy into my eyes and see yourself
Snapshots of times gone by
Glimpses of dreams to come
A mosaic of memories
Step back for the grand reveal
Each piece significant in its place
From those sad moments that awash your eyes with the colours of fall
To the better times colouring you in a sunshine glow
So step back and marvel at what you are
What you will become
What you will have been
You are the star
You are the show
You are the curtain call
You are the encore
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