Archive for modern poetry

It’s Only Wednesday

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 1, 2021 by dc

When your homemade ceramics
Are just creative cries for help
And all the chips they collect
Sit like a scars on your body,

When your mudslide mind
Shifts a crevasse to your mouth
And then chatters like hoodlums
Sat in gangs around potholes,

When your toddlers name their fingers
After pigs from petting zoos
And find themselves crying
After trying to milk a cat,

When the mantle-piece antlers start swelling
And the fake polar bear rug begins bleeding,

Close your eyes and inhale all the rainfall,
Exhale demons and then pat-a-cake stress;

Let your wig wander west,
Pick words up off the floor,
Let your tongue loll post-screaming
And let those dolls stay undressed,

Flop yourself back to bliss
Somewhere soundproofed and dark,
Bend your dreams back together
And lick your slate clean.

You are not one hour ago,
You are the simple inhalations
And exhalations of now,
You are only this moment,

No one can find you
And you’ve got the biscuits,

They’re safe.


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

Walking through the ruins
Of the past’s imagined future,
Echoes vie for vanishing air
And colours leak across lifetimes,

A luminous fog descends,
The sky dissolves into patterns,
And a landscape warped by erosive epochs
Slowly sucks on the sweet fallen debris.

Across a time-lapsed history
Cut and pasted by scholars,
Brows wrought like volcanoes,
Forever altered by every rumble,

I stand lost between a sulk and smile,
As I vanish into an endless sunset,
Left giddy by transitions
As every then becomes now.

Lost Child

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 23, 2021 by dc

There’s a man that looks like Jesus
Rubbing beeswax on the mausoleum doors,

A huge obelisk has uprooted a yew tree
And a skull has rolled under a bush.

Worms dance in the damp, disturbed soil
And birds flock for a feast,

As a lost child with stolen chocolate in his pockets,
Clasps it nervously till it slowly melts,

His raven black pupils dilating,
Soaking in the scene,

As his parents hunt the graveyard,
And all the ghosts wonder what happens next.

New Surname

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2021 by dc

I wasn’t sure, I simply vanished,

The air splashed wildly
And I was camouflaged by carpet,

As the truth slipped under the sofa
And rolled into a gyre of nothing.

Everything was snaking, colours morphed,

Radio chatter danced like shards of light
In dense morning forests,

The boiler hummed deep in thought,
Igniting odd monologues strickened by doubt,

The room breathed questions
And shrank on every inhalation,

Yuka plant leaves reached out for the window;

And you sat in the corner like a Hallmark card
Repeating the same old platitude,

Teetering on the edge of the mantlepiece,
With a new surname and a son that likes poetry.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 17, 2020 by dc

Spinning in
Our monologues,

Pretending we’re
An epilogue,

Everyone’s an

These days.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 23, 2020 by dc

Witches moan from the roofs,
Day glow apparitions buckle,

Small rolling rocks dance
At the foot of the bed,

And old visions curdle,
Renacted as worries;

Throwing stones through old factory windows,
A mother’s friend pleading for quiet,
A dead rat in the yard,

An old lover leaving for good
And that punch that I took to keep peace.

Compilations of funerals and wedddings,
White light and tears,

The mouth of a crying toddler,
His teeth falling out into dark,

A wasteground on the edge of town,
Scattered with bricks and lost trollies,

Half destroyed buildings
Corroding as they hope,

Faces in the sky glimmering in sweat,
Loved ones glitching into the foreground,

The wet of their eyes
A new rain.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2020 by dc

Even your
Are laughing
At you.

All Those Messages You Never Sent

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

All those messages you never sent
And now the world’s a different place,

Divisions are cracking around monuments,
Everyone’s got an opinion,

Curtains are twitching like tranquilised strobes,
Everyone’s worried about something,

And here you are in your own irked bubble
Counting all the things that hurt;

History’s hiccups and the late night heartburn
That flicked up acid and grumbled around,

Morphed in the shadows,

And now it’s suddenly in the centre of countless towns,
Confusing angry crowds and curdling frustration,

A mess of sounds ascending high,

The echoes of caged Saturdays and drunken rants
About the state of everything
From mental health to the pound
And from the price of food to trains,

Then back again
Till your nothing but the gap
Sat between solitude and wild boredom,

Pausing in patterns,

A loose cog in the machine,
Jarring every time things revolve.

On The Edge Of The Town

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2020 by dc

I’m balancing on the edge of the town,
A soft breeze hushing me nowhere,

Winding through the wasteland
And kicking loose stones,

Taken with solitude
And blown with hot dirt,

Across the ruined spot where
The soldiers wandered home.

I stop and stare at the ground,

The dry earth has risen and started to peak
Into small terracotta roofs pointing upwards,

Tumbleweed detritus skips across the mounds
And a wind whips its afternoon moan.

I sit on a fridge and get lost in the nothing,
I feel the groans from the monolithic industry all around,

I hear the heartbeats of hustling mice,
The scurry of beetles and a rumbling,

Bird song processed
All bent and reshaped;

An April rain falls and I’m inside the wet,
Loosened by breath,

Pulled into the dust from the factory floors,
The rhythmic grind of machines and the hiss of freed steam,

The perpetual thud of gnarled energy quaking,
The singing pistons and greased mechanisms,

Salt slowly dancing in the sweat of the bustle,
A hundred bass lines rotating,

Spinning generators harmonising with turbines
As transformers pump discords,

Furnaces howling as metal shards melt
And their fate drips like tears trapped in chaos.

There are workers here who’ve never left and rarely paused,
An electric sense of pride in nothing but grizzled routine,

I’m not sure what gets made here
But without it we’re nothing.

Another Lost General

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2020 by dc

The lichen had spread
Until only half a face

Another lost general
In a town hollowed out
From the bombing,

Abandoned and left to decay
In that good old fashioned way.

The stains from rainfall
Left him crying black tears
As he slowly disappeared,

Looking deep into the sky
As corrosion had its way,

Creeping and conquering
Until all that remained
Was a shape,

A creature stretching out
Into endless ruination,

A single grey eye

Winking into the sun.