My Poetry
To view my poem "Conversations" click on the link on the left. This poem has a page to itself as it is a long poem.
To view my poem "Conversations" click on the link on the left. This poem has a page to itself as it is a long poem.
And it rained, and it rained
harder, falling down like bullets
striking me, and cleansing me.
Tear drops from Heaven
To wash away my sins.
And I did not hide,
I faced it and loved it
and let it cover me,
soaking me, soaking my
clothes, my hair,
my body, wet.
And now I am free, rejoicing
in this glorious rain.
My sins have washed away
and for the first time
I feel free, I feel alive.
For the first time in
days, weeks, months, years,
I can live again.
And still it rains.
Still it cleanses me.
Still it washes away my sins.
And I am grateful,
and I am free,
and I am alive at last.
Flat, orange and vacant like the distracted
breeze in October’s reign, the goldfish
swam around her tank. Night after day
I dreamt of you as a goddess.
The tap stopped dripping, plunging the room to silence.
The moon’s soft rays entered though the darkened house,
illuminating the shadows of the garden.
Your silhouette appeared in my mind.
During a million light years of distance
between us, remembering you was like
picking up an old childhood toy – lovely –
but missing its meaning, struggling to capture
The lilac haze of aura surrounding you;
The fresh warm honey-dew of your kiss;
A cool summer’s evening air,
like your moist breath caressing my neck.
There, vacant and orange and beautiful,
the goldfish swam around and around:
Real…surreal…present in her physicality;
absent in her symbolism of you.
Another Level
in the lavatory
thud, thud the rhythm.
I pissed to their songs, ‘music’
smacking my ear drums.
This afternoon I got up
to bottles and tin cans,
under a cloud of smoke
last night’s hot curry
still not digesting in my stomach.
I was fooled into swallowing satay (chicken),
jumping up to run to the toilet
and rinse out my insides, vomit
a liquid anonymous.
There’s a birthday party next week.
This time next month I’ll be gone
as this water
flushing down the toilet.
After my funeral
I’ll return
to your student house.
We’ll try to keep up with each other
like the tortoise and the hare.
I carry your hair dye
in my arms
as real as artificial colouring
as I’ll carry on
drinking
getting laid
throwing up in the bathroom