Archive for October, 2008

The Wolves

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2008 by dc

Listen to these words,
There are wolves in the woods
Up to no good
And their tails
Are alive in the air,
The cold wind blowing
Has sown its doubts
And the thieves
Are sat down tossing coins.

Collect up my whispers
And arrange a tight sentence,
Make sure that it makes sense,
We are living like whistles
Through bushes
Dissecting
Our separate missions,
We pretend they’re just thoughts,
Loose transitions.

Position yourself by my side,
If we listen to gossip
We’ll be lost like the prophets
Who said we would one day be kings,
Nobody knows
What is best left alone,
What is house, what is home,
Why we come, why we go,
Flowing like rivers of bones,

As the groans of the wolves
Match our moans.

Poetry.net

Teeth Talkers

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2008 by dc

They walk around country estates
Like catalogue clowns,
They hold canes like loaded shotguns
And snort at swearing children.

They’re faces look like chiselled wax
But never seem to melt,
Their friends are insistently orange
And conversations hate them.

They throw loose change at cyclists
As they race past in their jeeps,
Their advert smiles are sickening,
Their mothers loved them too much.

They count bickering as a hobby,
Their hands are wild cat’s claws,
They talk through their teeth
And film themselves having sex.

We all know one vaguely,
Yet not really at all,
In simpler times they’d be beautiful beggars,
Miserable but kept well out of sight.

Their honesty sits
Amongst jars filled with tears,
To befriend one
Is the meaning of lonely.

Poetry.net

Sponge

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 3, 2008 by dc

He became a joke,
He laid down red carpets
And fought for nothing,

A knight without intrigue,
He tried to sing songs
But his lyrics were wretched.

In the cold light of day
He was nothing but lonely,
A dog without blankets,

He spent hours just thinking,
Imagine that, ‘just thinking’,
He was dead to the mirror.

All he wanted was yesterday,
A rewritten history,
A logic without diversion or lies,

All he got was the rain
And a down pour at that,
He was sponge and the sky was an ocean.

Poetry.net