Tuesday 31 December 2013

A million different dances



I chose unconsciousness as a pose to reality
as you stepped out onto the street
I hid from the fact you were going to be picked up
by a perverted Cadillac driving.
delete.
a short dress enticing, arse on display
coked to the eyes, whisky induced
paying the rent for me and the kids
life controled,
reality reduced.
I hung out, loaded, on that fabled street corner
I can't take this no longer, that bitch of a man
nods in appreciation, only wanting one thing
cocked the tip of my trigger, will do all that I can
The blood spattered windows were all left of him
brains reduced to liquid, seats covered, in his horny last thought
my wife sat there crying, screaming in a depth unexplored
how to cover up this mess is the only mind fuck i sought.
Mr car driven insanity, a wife and kids left alone
its going to be jail time, for me, im afraid
there was no hiding from this murder of a man
when the cops turned up i knelt on the ground and stayed.
She may have been a hooker, but she was my hooker and I loved her
she answered every question and stuck by all my answers
she loved our kids with resilience, and worked her way to provide
we had a million different kisses and a million different dances.
I lied to my lord in the prayers in my cell
said i didnt want to kill him yet inside my mind had gelled
he was the provider for my children, for im a worthless shit
the million different dancers the reason for my hit.
twenty seven years prescribed in a fall of the gavel
left my children behind, in loneliness i travel
i remember the victim, i recall the silhouette
a million different dances, a cell bound pirouette.  







Sunday 29 December 2013

How to finish the senetence




burning inside my brain, no knowledge to contradict
a festival of feelings, unable to count and predict
I long for your forgiveness, your touch on sunny avenues
inside my body, relaxed, in earthly sinews.
sun mornings rising,, higher faster
avoiding your eyes so blue a disaster
cheeks blushed, in orange, in hue so declared,
I miss you, my open mind you dared.
We danced in a seasonal winter, summer, spring and autumn,
we negotiated those left out reasons, we sought them,
and cried on the hill of Heidelberg an opera written,
an early teenage love so smitten
and still i remember you to this very day,
in sleep i dream in a comfortable way
your heart and memory cast in light and darkness
forever
crying
in a mind so ubiquitous
I wonder what happens in a new born babies mind
do you question my attentions a look,a glance, to find
I need us to fall asleep, to dream about this day
there was no other reason, no games we had to play.
I was only sixteen years old and yet i beg you
this braveness of mine in order to do
to kiss, to love, to realise the difference
i no longer know how to complete the sentence.

.





Saturday 14 December 2013

The dinner of the dammed



there was a moment
inside this disturbed mind
i was crying deep inside
regardless, regaling, only to
the breach of my back
snapped, disturbed
this broken spine
confirmed
in this institution
a child's hand. grasped
clasped
the bottle of beer
he drunk every night snapped my mother in two
but she fought back
and bottled his neck
to shut him the hell up
and every time during sunday dinner
drunk disturbing the mash potato
picking on me because of the beer driven hatred
not appreciating the time mum had labored
over the roast chicken but he was more so
stuffing alongside my own baby brother
every night after tea the snoring on sofas
my  father and uncle asleep and content
i died in my mind during wonder years sent
and then he awoke, remembering nothing at all
cuddled me and the regrets went away
for him
not me
i wandered to a fall
that sunday dinner
 of regret
after an afternoon in the publicans arms
fireflies dancing in a turgid sunset
i love you dad but you fucked me over
a yorkshireman
a real man lover
a jester laughing an artist dying
left me malnourished
sunday dinner, child crying.
a roast lamb seeping
i am what i am
it was every week
the dinner of the damned.









Wednesday 11 December 2013

my ultimate degree


whatever time of year ,you are something special to me
in a different time and decade in a obvious degree
i trust you, and love you, there is no doubt at all
we gel just like soul mates, like a peacocks mating call.

i remember, i recall, i rectify the same
an anguish, an argument, they will always remain to blame
and if we ever fall out, if we ever shout and trouble
a million seconds of hurt,a mid summers heart did double
.
i digress, i surely do, an obvious reason to look at your face
so perfect, so indifferent, so wanted fall from grace
an angel glitters, a bold sentence, a gift from up above
i craved, through wanderings, in this forest,of love.

i know you are my best friend, a soul mate there is no doubt
this closeness is a reason, i just don't shout about
but you, are something, that means the world to me
even if i digress, i love your serenity

i wish, i could wander, walking hand in hand,
with you, through .a dream scape, in a fantasy land
no matter what i have craved, no wonder, what i have dreamed
you are my best friend, for that i have always screamed

and no matter what has gone before, we will always laugh and cry
we will wander, through an ignorance ,fingers tapping as to why
whatever time of year, you are something special to me
my bestfriend, my soul mate, my ultimate degree.








 



Tuesday 3 December 2013

a proud yorkshire man

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
who wandered through the dales
dad was a steel worker, hot and sweaty
telling a million yorkshire men tales

oil and steam in the air a rising
a dirty city grimed in dust and pollution
seven hills rising to forgive
in a sheffield dissolve in absolution

drink yourself into forgiveness
at the end of a terrible day
worked to the fingers i digress
the children know not how to play

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
my mother cried at my fathers feet
we craved to walk in the countryside
yet we have to live in this poor mans street

back to back houses
and a shared toilet for a family of five
we prayed for forgiveness
yet thank god we survived

there is a tale of a yorkshireman
several world wars later, picking fruit as we go
we thought of a reason to escape
yet we trembled as we know

tis the end of this journey
as a proud yorkshire man
one day they will  recognise me
that i did what i can.

my mother cried on this adventure
presented a world do i am
because this is  my first love
a proud yorkshire man.