Archive for April, 2009

Butchers of Commerce

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2009 by dc

You would think their heads
Were far to big to hold beaks
The size of two pine nuts,

Chests far too puffed
To breathe in sync
With their shuddering heartbeats
And spittle,

Alone in the glow of their egos,
At home with their bitter cored pills,
They are the news if they make it,

Dead if they don’t,
Autumnal trees,
The distant pecking of birds
Or a chorus ignored,

They are butchers of commerce,
All feathers and gore.

Wrapped in Sheets

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 27, 2009 by dc

I roll around the bed,
Smuggling time and grumbling,
The less I do
The more I fall,
Wrapped in sheets
And calling for conclusions,
Terminally confused,
A drugged cat in a basket,
The sound a rocking chair makes,
A joke called Sunday.

Fresh Pillows

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 20, 2009 by dc

Your hair gracing fresh pillows
Like a crown before a coronation,
A summer sun resting through blue skies,
A leaf floating gently down stream,

Your beauty in glimpses,
Occasional smiles,
Your hand on my thigh
As I drift somewhere golden.

French villages high on wine,
Dutch streets slowly winding,
London bars hiding kisses and whispers,
Our heads in the stars as we sway.

I hold you and dream till the sun breaks,
Alive in your arms like the new storms,

In two hours you’ll be gone
And I’ll be left thinking,

This night has been stolen too soon.

We Dance

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 17, 2009 by dc

We dance far below
Leaves and branches above us
The limit is sky

Old Man Thought

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 14, 2009 by dc

I stay white in the armchair,
Fear holds its gentle pause,
Memories won’t shift,
Worries won’t drown,

I’ve held their heads underwater
For days maybe months,
Felt them thrashing and splashing,
Then watched them turn blue.

Yet here they are again,
Lessons not learned,
Regret stuck on repeat,
A skipping record of sadness,

I get up from the armchair
And I’m dizzy with thinking,
Happiness whispers
Then drifts as I rock,

It’s pathetic enchantment,
A wino with scrolls,
A Dickensian drop off,
An alleyway mind,

And here I am sensing
Life is short on full stops,
Wise advice is just wordplay,
The armchair was right.

A Darkened Birth of Fright

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2009 by dc

A sky of sheeted ravens,
A void of deathly quiet,
Tonight the sights seem grave,

The endless bend of sycamores
Down lanes that smell of spunk,
Past the houses of children
Chicken scratched and toothless,

This is the conclusion,
A full stop that stinks of whisky,
A darkened birth of fright,

We were jokers till this moment,
The dead lie to our right.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 5, 2009 by dc

Time flashes like spring
What used to be forever
Is now just naive


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on April 2, 2009 by dc

They believe me when I say,
I feel as fresh as the buds on a spring tree,

A single bird seen
Through the shard of a window,
A single branch bending
To balance its weight.

They believe me when I say,
The past is a blessing and the future sits smiling,

A single chimney seen
Through a half opened blind,
A single wave of smoke
Drifting weakly and cheerless.

They believe me when I say,
I’ve nothing but joy on my mind,

They are fools
But they keep me alive.