Time is getting old
Even the clock ticks slow
Each wave of the passing hour
Doesn't predict sunshine or shower
It tells you what you already know.
Monday, 12 October 2015
Saturday, 10 October 2015
Apologies for the letters I wrote
They say emotions aren't impressive
In the year of our lord 2015
Maybe resting your head on my bony shoulders
Hurts your neck, and that's fine
"Curves are better than lines," you say
"Okay," I nod.
Maybe when I hold you my ribs are too sharp
And they nudge you in the worst way possible
Like waves of words hitting your sides.
Perhaps this is why you approach me
As a city you're unsure of living in
But I can be a home, not just four walls
And you can leave the lights on
Fuck my roads paved with good intentions
And almost no potholes.
Apologies that I only read and write
And no I can't drive nor am i good with
Directions, just better at getting lost
And we could have, if you
Only said, "Sure".
Friday, 9 October 2015
I haven't seen the stars in the sky in Rome
Haven't seen Turkey's blue and golden domes
Haven't seen a route called 66 stretching on like truth
But I have seen you and I think you'll do.
I haven't seen the colours dry on Italy's walls
Haven't pointed to David & Goliath in hallowed halls
Haven't seen London's cobbled streets or Jack's bloody letter
But I've seen you and I think you're better.
I haven't seen the ruins of Pompeii washed by fires of the mountains
Haven't seen glass meet stone at the Louvre or nature's fountains
I haven't seen the towers of Dubai scrape the sky
But I've seen you and you make me smile.
I haven't seen the locks the lovers in Germany tied to a bridge
Haven't seen the Grand Canyon or its stony ridge
Haven't seen Mayan ruins held by the clouds up above
But I see you now and I think you're enough.
It's been too long for longing
Too late for waiting
And you'd rather hum,
"I speak too soon,
I think too fast."
The milk boiled, burned, over spilled
Stained your skin
The clouds that loom above her head
The stars, like your home,
Send me the miles you've travelled,
Send me the sky, the moon, the earth
Send me all you've seen from up high
Send me a photograph of your smile
Crooked teeth by crooked steps
Send me the rain of your city
And the only shade of green you know
If you cannot send these postcards
Send me away.
Silent muse, violent ruse
Tarred old clues
To a mystery never solved
You know the ways of the world
You have a way with words
Said no one ever, but
I'll still tell you all
Till I end up tripping over
My own sound
Sounds, you know those things
No one can save, but I try
As i try dancing
with your shadow
Singing when no one's around
And sure, you say you like poetry
Like a man with three wives
And know the names of paintings from
France, dating back to the 19th century
A time, you wish was yours
A time, where you wish you belonged
But here you are
And there, I see
Me in your mirror
Left writing this fucking poem
Again as another century turns,
yawns and begins
Like just another day
In your book kept out of
Reach on a shelf, know this -
you're a photograph with no caption.