spoken

Quiet

I don’t dream anymore

I sit and hold my shoulder

wait for the noise to end

when it does, my ears ring and

I gaslight myself, still it throbs

again, again

do I like the quiet

the sound of distant cars and ocean

invades my soul more sweet

than the motor noise of the

selfish pricks next door/ I don’t dream anymore

that reverb has eroded

my light, my joy

a sick trickle

of stale Jack Daniels

sour and tacky it

sniffs

in the back of my throat

an old injury

waiting to flare up

it could hurt me so good

it could, it could

but I don’t dream anymore so

maybe I’m safe

oh, the pain when it goes silent

and those whispers

of how to fight it

 

 

Photo: Claire Doble

jacaranda

forgot I fell in love
with street corner
concrete
and patches of sunlight
falling aslant
where the
pavement
swells with roots
of fig trees
like your leg
against mine
under the summer
sheets
after we
oh
there’s that, too
the lilac of
jacaranda
strokes my eyes
offset by
sapphire sea
I’m drifting
into Jeff Buckley
again
yearning
early
emotion
I’m not sure this is new
or far too
late
blooming
as candy clouds
like a sweet sort of joke
pastel caress
kiss, kiss
kiss, more, more please
kiss
at my throat

Heartplace

it was pink and curved

it was black thick-pile velvet

it had the tacky floor of a Camden boozer

and it smelled like clothes

in the morning

before

the smoking ban

small enough

to hold in one hand

forearms rest on thighs

an imperfect fleshy sphere

a soggy cosmetic sponge

pink-brown, is that my skintone?

outdated,  like a cord-phone

a soaked-in scent of hangovers

fumes of long ago

mine, tongue-smooth, alone…

lazy, comfortable, like home

 

Soundcloud recording: https://soundcloud.com/user-808707280/heartplace

Image: https://unsplash.com/@agebarros

Sirens – spoken word

 

The things we can’t say

but do

the way

I’m thinking about you

but I know

it’s not good

to be stood

on a precipice

or at the edge of a dark wood

and the sirens call me

longing

pining

to jump

into their entwining arms

“Fuck it all up”

they sing in whispery cries

How will you know

if you don’t try?

Might get

your heart’s desire…

It’s all fake

a sham

I can’t make

any argument stand

and yet

that tickle

of breath

of possible

mischief

is the flicker I need

to continue

this speed

fuel

for my self-stoked flame

burning through my days

when my heart’s on the wane

it’s lame

but I need something to blame

or just

keep me sane

 

This is my latest spoken-word experiment – thanks to everyone who has offered support, advice, feedback and coaching. Especially those of you who have gone above and beyond – you know who you are! 🙂

 

Soundcloud link if you can’t see it above: https://soundcloud.com/user-808707280/sirens