The Sounds of a City

Poetry

The sounds of a city roar up to the heavens, Sharp screeches and shrill shrieks. Laughter. An ensemble of beeps. Silence. Encore.
A sell out
At a traffic light, faces on loop

Her Frown. His Nod. Their Grin

Red lips .Amber hair. Green eyes.

Red hair. Amber coat. Green skirt

Green light. Amber light. Goodbye.
The galloping of a thousand heels drowns out a homeless quartet; a splash of coins rescues the tethered bark of a starving dog.
The sound of a thousand tips echo across the foreign lips of strangers wishing to help at the maelstrom of all the spitting and swearing. The loneliest of the four pours the tips into a plastic cup and swallows every penny, tangs of copper no more bloody than his trigger finger, a muffled salute to every teen dressed in army green.
His shouts don’t reach the ears of joggers, tuned into each road, carried by the signals of their destination. A thrashing of music fuels a lifetime of laps, a marathon of ignorance. Only the cars that buzz do swarm and serve, yellow, green and blue, red and white.
Black
A helicopters whirls
The sounds of a city roar up to the heavens, Sharp screeches and shrill shrieks. Laughter. An ensemble of beeps. Silence. Encore.

Viral 

Poetry, Uncategorized

VIRAL

A

Very
Incomprehensible 

Reaction,

Altering 

Life
Vulgar entertainment reaping years. 

Impossible necessity? Could one man’s piracy redistribute economy? His end not secured in bleak, limitless entities.
Reducing entertainments application to illicit overt negligence 
Altering liberties that eradicate racial intervention, never guns.
Let it fester excessively, scar the years leering edge. 

A Friend in Phil Orr

Poetry

 

In the air tonight, we waited and wondered,

I missed again, but don’t lose my number, that’s all.

Everday we lead separate lives, two hearts, one heart, something happened.

 

Its a land of confusion, but another day in paradise.

Sussudio, I’m entangled. hold on my heart, take me home

Dance into the light! my heart knows, I can’t dance.

 

Jesus knows me, against all odds,

He knows my true colours.

 

-Its in your eyes, you’re no son of mine!

But I need help,

-You can’t hurry love,

If you follow me, I will follow you,

-Okay, I’m going back now

 

Sussudio! I can’t stop loving you, your invisible touch,

I’d say it’s a groovy kind of love.

 

This isn’t dramatic enough, I wish it would rain down.

turn it on again, for Orsino, one more night.

 

-On my way Philip.

Toe, Knee, Shoulder, Head.

Poetry

Toe, knee, shoulder, head.

Up a ravaged gutter of copper and lead

 

East echoing wind of string and brass

a shrieking tune on the broken glass

 

Cold hammer cracks a crumbly gall

Disturbing the bird nest disco ball

 

No place to dine a lonely dove

But one to dervish, liquid love

 

Loose sticky shuffle, dried ocean regrets,

A working boot licks a lifetime of steps

 

For youth of greed, the plague of age.

A looming debt to the heavens wage.

 

Sow final seeds in the flower bed.

First toe, knee, shoulder, then head.

The Doldrums 

Poetry

Take us to the doldrums, to soothe strangled soul
Grant deaths rescue, unshackle minds not hands to pray;

for cold black hearts, the bell will toll.
Wicked leashing labour, a brimming sugar bowl;

By the sticky leather hiss, on peut regarder

Take us to the doldrums, to soothe strangled soul.
Cruel iron clinks and kind iron chimes up a barking pole,

No word to whisper nor song to play;

For cold black hearts, the bell will toll.
Leap into the white whirling hole;
A bliss beyond a bastards bay
Take us to the doldrums, too soothe strangled soul.

Cease our blistered bodies of natures callous;
But assemble theirs for judgement day;
For cold black hearts the bell will toll

Paint limbs with drips across the scroll

of sticks black, white and grey.
Take us to the Doldrums to soothe strangled soul;
For cold black hearts the bell will toll.

 

Frances

Poetry

What be of her death, but a peace. black bliss.

By her lungs. by her heart. goodbye.         a kiss. 

To return as a worm? eaten by a bat?

Roll a six for the devil, live seven as a cat.

Of Karma. nirvana. of a man draped in white

Seen, unseen. light. day. dark. night

Go hence for incense, spice up a spicy soul

Pick lilies from the garden, dig down for the coal.

And peace doth be with you, and also with you

September, remember her final adieu.

Sleep sound to the inferno, 

Where solitude lies,

Where an eclipse of your heaven

Casts blue on grey skies,

Wake up on the clouds.  son, daughter, will wait;

With Theresa love, shall reincarnate.

Warm tears will wash, a cold young face

 As we 

Hail Frances, pleine de Grâce!

Sail on waves of the spirits,

cherish fond moments but nor one more than most;

As the food in my belly 

or the butter on toast.

Desire Time

Poetry

A fictional narrative illustrating the perils of ‘beer-goggles’

Must also include all ten of these words associated with ‘LOVE’

WINE 

SUGAR

BODY

LOVER 

DESIRE

HATE 

HEART

POISON

DATE 

ARSE

Desire time 

Desire time flushed cheeks and wine

a whisky or a gin, a thirst it grew, 

but not for you, that 

face gave me a grin.

desire time flushed cheeks more wine,

a whisky not a gin, on heels rock,

that ragged frock, this is where i will begin…

arms legs arse hips, porks pies and chips,

worn hands, worn face, new bag. 

Stumped teeth of beige, 

for only wine can age

I’d crossed the line a tad.

apology time, standing in line,

cheeks scorched of scarlet sin, 

‘what would one want?’ rather non chalant 

she pointed to her gin.

five whiskeys down, nor sigh or frown,

it’s going rather well, I thought it lame to

ask her name, we’ll just call her Michelle.

I hate to say, though mal portrait

I’m glad that we had met, 

youth body had flown

her heart a stone though still not one regret.

Frantic no more, a date? a pour of whisky,

no more gin, a stumbling toad went down 

the road with a princess or akin. 

Desire time strange taste in wine, 

no chance I’ll sink another, 

a sober thought and now retort , 

she looked like someone’s brother.

Though on the floor, insisting more 

a smell of burning sugar,

 an emerald flash lit her moustache, 

I sip the rancid blubber. 

The mystic horse, with no remorse

tore off my clothes like paper, 

for all the dread, my poisoned head

whirling dervish. rancid. vapour.

Desire time,  sobering paradigm 

for any riggish lover, a boisterous 

haste had tickled my taste for 

Michael. Michelle’s big brother.