Raising the Stakes

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on February 15, 2021 by dc

I’m like a dirty magazine
Stuck in bush,

Beaten to a bench
By a royal flush,

Rolling to the kerb
Like I’m marble dice,

Taken by the sight
Of a broken Christ.

Turn Towards Sleep

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 22, 2021 by dc

A fruitless contemplation
Instilled with desert flowers

And thirst.

The smell of salt in the sand,
A twisted sun griping
Above the horizon,

Old faces in the canyon rocks
Looking away disgusted,

Huffing their puff in the wind
As I crawl,

As I call out a dry cough
And turn towards sleep.

Nothing circles,
Nothing rattles,
Nothing creeps.

The Perfect Time to Talk

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 9, 2021 by dc

There’s no such thing
As the perfect time to talk,

Perfect words
Don’t need watches or clothes,

Sometimes they turn up drunk
And don’t even make sense;

Ideal moments
Don’t arrive when we decide,

Sometimes they miss the bus
And rust a bit

While they’re waiting
For the next one,

It’s ironic really.

Except you’re not listening
And the moment’s not right
For that kind of talking,

There’s a broken glass
In the dishwasher

And the post’s just arrived.

That New Kind of Lunatic

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on January 6, 2021 by dc

Gorging on conspiracies
Like a wide-eyed fox in a bin,

He’s shrieking his fights at the moon
Like a gout ridden Nostradamus,

The sky will burn at forty-five degrees!
Fire approaches this great new city!

He’s that new kind of lunatic,
Spent in the smoke of a burnt hippy dream,

Kabbalistic gibberish
Drugging all his wayward thoughts,

Living in the holes where the news once sat
And ploughing through the rubble.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 21, 2020 by dc

Mothers look away
As their babies coo floras
Unseen and absurd

The Pinks

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 18, 2020 by dc

A bloom hushed the lawn
A truly beautiful death
All shivered in pinks

The Smiling Husks

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2020 by dc

Quiet graveyards looking down
On this hushed and windswept town

All pink and orange dusked,

The smiling husks of yesterdays,
Soft and sweet to eat,

Wet round our mouths,

A fleet of fishing boats floating
Then sloping over the horizon,

Salt in our smiles,

A late sun shining silence
Before the night starts its roll,

We kiss under whale bones
And dream of the squall.

His Thumbs

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on November 28, 2020 by dc

All we can remember
Were his thumbs,

They looked like

Two huge
Chewed teats
On a cow’s
Ageing udder,

Lost at the sides
Of his hands,

Two disfigured

Whenever he spoke;

His words
We can never recall.

Everything Is Quiet

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 26, 2020 by dc

There’s just
A sauntering cat

Looking for some elasticated
Moonlight to bathe in

And purr out it’s
Soft acapella;

I’ve ignored the news,
Spoken with friends
And simplified my footsteps,

Everything is quiet.

Lost Applause

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on November 19, 2020 by dc

This rain beats down like lost applause
As these cold winds conduct a fresh shiver,

Tiny rivers track hill roads,
Spiders spin and then drown
And cars mount the kerb to park up,

Just waiting for that sweet whispered lull
In a void soaked with patience,

In the gap between nature and nurture,
Staring without song,
Fingers tapping.