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.

The Pond Has Gone

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2020 by dc

Like a huge, half-dried tear
Sat in autumn’s tired lap,

A sad, wet question,

A muddy saucer swilling
The backwash of neglect,

All life has withered from this pond
And all it’s left is a gentle trace,

The paw prints of scuttling rats,
Frog bellies and curious badgers,

A glint of orange fox hair
And a single heron feather.

As dying ferns drop
Their tears of dew into the mire,

A parade of ghostly sparrows
Arrive and then leave,

The rain waves in grey,
The wind almost mourns,

The demure grimace of a cat
Hovers on a distant fallen wall,

And I back step out of a thought
Before a memory’s reborn.

Anxiety’s Buds

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

Anxiety’s buds
Ripe and sticky as they bloom
Viscous and timid

The Right Shade Of Outrage

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 22, 2020 by dc

When you landed in sequins,
Hung up in a glimmering darkness,
Sparkling careless, screwed-up love
And seducing new fanatics and strays,

You came alien and strange,
Soundtracked with a stolen guitar,
Sliding mutated songs on Vaseline
And blasting our shadows with light.

Lipstick just the right shade of outrage,
You grasped the crass voodoo crush
And painted priests in your make up,
As cryptic messages rained down,

An electric tiger on a mission,
You guided us through ecstasy’s day breaks,
An invader claiming our minds from a stage
And jiving us hard till you starved;

We watched the transformation of a star
Into a world rotating sun,
With the wave of phase and the spark
Of a joy debauched and undone.

That Alien Throb

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 20, 2020 by dc

The waves pulse,
Those salty tears,

The neon maps
Of lands and veins,

That alien throb,
Jaw softly locked;

Late night incantations,
Heightened through haunting,

A yesterday clutched,
A soon bled with colour,

The thrill of stuttered yawns,
And those great, wild intentions

That just rested asleep.

Big Machine

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 6, 2020 by dc

Skin creased all bitter and citric,
Pity painted to the soles of their feet,
Chewed fingers and a lurch as they walk,
Unsteady and ignorant,

Faces sculpted from mashed potato,
Words mushed into one long sound,
Tobacco tans and eyes like the holes
In punched walls;

Someone gave them a voice,
Someone said we should listen,

And now the idiots are oiling the big machine,
Greasing its wheels and buffing its bonnet,
Adding spoilers and flags and freestyling,

The acid reflux of racism revs,
The manual gears of science and fact
Are now automatic lies and distractions,

The truth got so boring it fell off
To sit and rust at the side of a road,

And now we’re here giving time to the fumes
Of greed and hate fogged up to look like
A floating green aurora offering hope,

A beautiful mirage that echoes their anger,
Whispering excuses and offering answers
To the weak and paranoid questions
Rotting at the base of their souls;

They don’t really have goals anymore,
Just a hungry desire to burn things
And have a huge barbecue in the aftermath,

Then after that one long wrestling match
And an anthem that celebrates death.

If only they could take a breath and a look,
Read a book and cuddle up to something other than fear,

Maybe then we wouldn’t be here
And that big machine could just disappear.

Another Life, Another Man

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

Lost in a doppelganger’s daze,

Painting yourself into the corner
Of another empty room,
The fumes nuzzle your sweat,

Confused nursery rhymes sing
Through the bristles as night falls
And bubbles pop on the ceiling,

A back splash of petrified joy
Dancing like sparks through the dark.

Flashbacks scuttle like rats,
Rust creeps into happiness,
Wearing away your ambition
And all the sweet things that glistened
As your reveries unravelled,

The magic garden and the innocence,
The twisted fairy tales and feedback
Melting in the psychotropic lights,
Detuning till your strings became slack,
Freezing as the TV cameras rolled –

And it’s all too much and ‘very noisy’,
Another life, another man.

You were the colours of an orchard
As the sun cuts through a storm,
A magnificent Icarus dandy dressed,
A handsome charm all glints and sparkle,
Tumbling words and jumbled laughs;

A fame lopped short and left to walk home,
A mind filled with dust and fading guitars,
A sun flicked off with a switch.