Tag Archive | poem

Winter beds

I hope you don’t see my eyes half-closing;

This rest isn’t meant to be

A comment on you,

I just really need to

Escape the world whilst I can.

My leg slides warmly against you;

A heat so easily missed.

Keep me hooked and tied

By your side,

So I can face the cold again.

Sinking amongst a mess of pillows;

Morning brings a persistent rain.

Out in the half-sun glow,

Please don’t go;

Sadness wets my wings once again.

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Old scabs

Don’t fall in love, kids;

You’ll only get hurt.

And the second time

Will feel like the first.

Perhaps even worse,

Because you’ll feel stupid.

You should’ve learnt;

You should’ve done better,

To make things work.

And then you knock the scab

To open the wound to the world

And be vulnerable and raw

To another special person

And believe that this time –

It’s gotta be this time.

Perhaps it will be your forever,

Perhaps you’ll travel far.

Don’t fall in love;

Seize it.

Break it, use it;

Lash out and fight;

Dampen the sun

Until it burns night

Ignore the unloved,

They’ll trip you to fall,

Make you question who you are

Because there’s a shit-load of

Darkness between every star.

Trauma

This moment is broken,

Just blank it out

Or it will hurt you;

You don’t need it now.

Let it tip over sideways,

Let the edges fray;

It’ll reconfigure

Into another shape.

But you won’t remember

Or see me at all,

When this memory returns back

And you try to recall;

And if I arrive here,

Will you come to see me?

Or will you drown your function

Within a timeless sea?

You can’t say why it pains you

Or why you cry at words

Or why a familiar moment

Makes everything hurt.

Snow

Can’t you hear the sound

Of my rasping lungs?

Hold on;

That faint blood-wheeze

Keeps the lonely disease

From infesting me.

And I bet you hear the crush

Of my snow-filled step?

Restless.

It crunches

Beneath me

Like muted cough

And water runs black

As if the darkness between stars

Spilled upon the land.

The night may hide

Everything thought we knew

As untold stories

And unthinkable memories

and won’t stop all that whispering

Coming back in.

Because, on this night,

Shouting at the stars,

the snow silences us.

The Island

I don’t wanna be here tomorrow;

Not looking for your warm advice.

If I asked you to leave without me,

Would I have to ask you twice?

The waves, they begin to swallow

The edges of our barren land,

The paths we were set to follow,

Our castle which used to stand

Against the burnt horizon,

So dark against a bruising sky;

But the bricks are now worn and broken,

As our island sinks beneath the tide.

If you can, please donate gloves and socks to homeless people this Winter.

You’re welcome to take this seat;

As you need it more than me.

Those bloodied, wandering feet

Wet with the places you have been.

Huddled in a nameless heap,

And everyone refuses to see

The coldness on the street;

It’s a wonder you can even sleep.

Blackness and numbness

Of the nights

which left you toeless

And swimming in the warmth

That only liquor brings

And still those,

who have more than you,

Will only throw you change

If it doesn’t touch your veins.

Since when does a score

Change enough

To give you more?

A job interview, a house

A family to adore?

Pennies are not the reason to live

and sleep sober

On the empty streets

In December.

Home

“No, I don’t need a drink;

I’m just waiting for a friend.”

Need some space to think,

To smile and to pretend

“I’ve got somewhere to go”

And “someone’s waiting for me.”

Instead, I’ll stay too long,

Feet resting in between,

The wilderness and an empty home.

How come we’ve walked so far

And still we don’t belong

To us or anywhere anymore?

Because all we hear is Brexit

Oh dear,

We act so surprised

When the shore falls away

Right before our eyes;

This was a mistake

Right from day dot,

But we have to blindly march

Whether we like it or not.

And you won’t listen to half of us

Because you couldn’t care less;

For we all know which suits

Will benefit from this mess.

It’s the men who speak fire,

The ones who sell fear

And won’t feel the pinch

Early next year.

How dare the rich think

they speak for the poor,

Preaching about democracy

And closing the door

On any debate

Which urges to learn more;

“It is Britain, you hate;

It is Britain, I adore.”

So let’s keep floating away

To place lost at sea,

Which fits not our people,

Our cultures, our dreams.

Fire

Don’t you dare

Hate me;

Loosely moving

Around me

As if I can fucking

Sleep right now?

So stop this,

Because you haven’t

Earned this fire

You hold on me.

Just keep making the problem

a person

Rather than owning it

or opening up what you’ve got –

The cheek of it.

You just try to come

With that face on;

You aren’t even ready

For what I got:

This blood-thunder plague

I can spit

If you bothered to ask.

But no,

You hurt,

So I can’t hurt too.

Like,

Where do I bleed

When I’m healing you?

No, stop.

Just leave this heat here,

It’s making me hide

With each smile you don’t mean,

Staring with rolled eyes.

Sick.

Nights are never quiet

And it’s impossible not to hear

That persistent, rasping cough,

Which burns in the air.

I wish the noise could stop;

For only a little while.

It sounds raw with dried blood;

It sounds wet with bile.

Yet each fleeting silence

Fills me up with fear,

For the audial violence

Lets me know you’re still here.

And I really don’t know

What calms me more:

The life or the death

That exists beyond your door.