Sometimes realisations about what i do (or don't do) are slow in coming (or i'm slow to see them,). Other times it's a struggle to keep up, let alone to implement those bright spark ideas. At the moment i'm intent on keeping up.
Wish me luck, it might get messy.
GIVE ME THOSE EYES
there were levers and gloves
but i wasn’t buying into that
i’d been playing
an absurd game of patience
with sour faced electricians
and the green worm
of big darkness
was crawling up my spine
this was a good thing
this was a good thing
you know you’re alive
in the breath before you die
exhale
stand up
lock the door
touch your eyes
there were goats on the roof
and i could’ve had two
but what would the kids say
when they ate through the walls
another
hesitation
like thread through a wound
and my skin’s so thin
in these slipway
times
but nothing ever
paves this burn out
i can’t talk to them
they can’t wait for me
let’s just say
make me a promise
let’s just say
give me those eyes
maybe when i’ve got them
i can see how i looked
how i blinded myself
out of sight out of mind
Wish me luck, it might get messy.
GIVE ME THOSE EYES
there were levers and gloves
but i wasn’t buying into that
i’d been playing
an absurd game of patience
with sour faced electricians
and the green worm
of big darkness
was crawling up my spine
this was a good thing
this was a good thing
you know you’re alive
in the breath before you die
exhale
stand up
lock the door
touch your eyes
there were goats on the roof
and i could’ve had two
but what would the kids say
when they ate through the walls
another
hesitation
like thread through a wound
and my skin’s so thin
in these slipway
times
but nothing ever
paves this burn out
i can’t talk to them
they can’t wait for me
let’s just say
make me a promise
let’s just say
give me those eyes
maybe when i’ve got them
i can see how i looked
how i blinded myself
out of sight out of mind
ON THE OUT BREATH
caught red fish with blood-worms
sent them packing
got to the party
just too late to screw the bride
still had my keys jangling
ears all tuned up for a heavenly chorus
and some flip-the-coin situation
unfolding like a broken umbrella
worked in the back of a leather cradle
from dusk ‘til dawn
hand together lips sealed
in case the muscle came flexing
and i don’t want a part of that
just squeeze me through the bars
feel my lungs
i’m on the out breath
tonight i’ll raise my glass
to all that lost their will to cry
carved numbers on damp wood
polished black lullabies
and i can still taste the smoke
that hung blue when she peeled out
chicken feathers flying
killing the flies when they sucked at my arms
FOR ONE PERFECT MOMENT
i imagine the perfection of a room
one that i crawled into
cowering inside the cupboard
and wishing to be sucked into the night
i see it at its best
and me also
when it was quiet
and so was i
the house empty
and so was i
but still i feel my breath in the cupboard
just wishing it would stop
and let me out at that moment
when at least the room was perfect
<> I was searching for a free download of a Russian Girl-Punk Band and google threw up a link containing what became the title of this piece.
FREE AGENT / FREE BRA / FREE CITY
free agent
free bra
free city
nothing here is certain
no safe alphabet
cold soup / cold eyes
let me have cancellation guaranteed
said your teeth don’t work
and your pants won’t drop
paint stripes on your body
dance in trees - love me
free radical
free speech
free think tank
just past the spirit peaks
there is a sure thing
your earth / your heaven
and how you touch your toes
i will fold your clothes
i will wash them too
i’ll be there
whenever you’re dirty
TABLE
if i had a table
would i sit at it
would i take the whole day
to catch up
on all those things
i said i needed a table for
would i write poems
type the next chapter
plug in the music machines
sing into the microphone
cut out the pictures
and paste them in the frame
would i come up
with something
that fired me so
that i would come back
again and again
to the table
would i believe
it was the table
that made all this possible
and ultimately
kneel before it
so that it became out of reach
if i had a table
would i sit at it
would i take the whole day
to catch up
on all those things
i said i needed a table for
would i write poems
type the next chapter
plug in the music machines
sing into the microphone
cut out the pictures
and paste them in the frame
would i come up
with something
that fired me so
that i would come back
again and again
to the table
would i believe
it was the table
that made all this possible
and ultimately
kneel before it
so that it became out of reach
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