Good

I’m starting to feel old
The wisdom jettisoned
Towards oncoming oracles
Whose tongues still
Perform magic tricks
Righteous oratory slicks
Combing over the arid
Plain singing
In one of two tones,
Complexity is
Messier than a
Simple song about
Right and wrong.
I understand, I do,
The verses that used
To froth from my lips
Were full of shit, too
Life was, is, unfair
I burned through
The energy to give
Something back by
Singing selfishly about
Structures I barely understood
Using kitchen towels
To mop up a flood
Nobody noticed when
I stood up and cursed
Maybe, now’s the time
To get out and do something
For the greater good

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Good

Known

Wars start with words
Self-important chums
Foresight shortened
By bridges burned

Controllers long to be
Stroked by boys only
Club restricts entrance
Without a phallic trick

Wars start words
Each bruise felt by
A well drilled machine
Or terrified teen

Both too scared to defy
Orders from above
Hearts condensed
Into blood red milk

A death only felt
As a sharp intake of breath
Respawn, false player
We need someone to be killed.

Wars start with words
Sabre teeth rattle
In glass cased
Clinks of victory sips

It’s easier to say
What you think
When the flightless bird
Accepts its extinct

Wars end with words
False hope of new boys
In tailored suits
Promising to fix

The lessons of the past
Tarmacked mass graves
Infusing the taps
For an amnesiac’s sense

So we never forget
But forget to remember
Trauma on the tip
Of a tab under the tongue

When street litter limbs
Lined the roads
Marking the edge
Of the known world

Known

Skin

Your beauty is only skin deep
One lash will fall
Impede the eye of mystery
It’s waisted.
On the size of your
Corrected curves
The vessels
Soon ooze
With treacle, black
The sweetness
Burns an acid sour
Retracing those steps
To get back to where
Laughter lives
In the young cubs.
You swallow them whole
With a veinous wrath
Your smoke leaks
The horrors of blackness
Skin bare, cold hands
Vanity rips through another
Pair of lungs.
I lack the heart
To tell you how to behave
But it once pounded
In a cage of your making
The monster, afraid
Not becoming what becomes
Of each living thing
Organ stitches sew
New paths to bleed
Young love, not
Always what it seems
Skin touching skin

Skin

White

Five white faces
Huddle round a microphone
To solemnly swear in detail
The cerebral causes
Trauma they’ve suffered
Staring at black ink.
Negative outcomes projected
For a city so far away
It might be imaginary.
Computer generated images
Sprinkled with dust
And power kegs
But if the figures are accurate
It might disappear
Under a hailstorm.
They sip coffee, buzzing
Button pressing
Machine learning to stop
Brown faces in dense areas
Atoms so tightly packed
It might be another big bang
Or an earthquake
Seismological market shift
Tectonic tilt
Towards radicalism
But the rain doesn’t halt
The click of a mouse

White

Compost

Pull the pin
Drop a bombshell
This money comes
Bloody red, hard to sell

“It’s not us”, they say
“We’re manufacturers”
But coke dealers deal
To sniffing contractors

Those ships did sail
To warmer waters
In dusty mountain caves
For the honour of slaughter

Pounds still tick
Through the accountants wrists
A limp, sick feeling
No power in fists

When above, juggernauts
Geologically remove
Any hint of a gradient
Flattened, to excuse

The cutting of heads
In underground caves
But youthful anger is stubborn
It releases in waves

They’ll watch with tied hands
Subsiding the cost
Of the shelling that follows
And the peacetime compost

Compost

Fast Forward

Ever pass time with a forgettable sip
Briefly pressing fast forward
Skipping through the part
Where excitement ebbs
Rather not let the tension build
Through long languishing walks
Lush leaps fully sighted steps
Freshly cut grass deep
Soil, watered in spates
Growing life like baking bread
Rather forgo the messy part
Go straight to the taste
No toil, no emotional wrecks
Flightless birds bouncing back
In only two dimensions of depth
No third chances to reverse
Engineer all those moments
That could have been
Rushing as we are
To reach the dead end

Fast Forward

Steam

You were born
I’m thankful for that
Each time I glance over
The way the muscles
On your face flex
Beaming, like sunlight
Happy, in-between flutters
When a shortness of breath
Can’t keep up with the pace of my heart
It’s good to see your skin
Hasn’t aged a day
I gently fold over each crease
Softly pressing down
Sizzling steam
Pours out
The words nearly came out too
This year
Greetings of health
Wellness, and long life
Caught in a coughing fit
They escaped from my throat
Under my breath
But no matter
There’s always next year
When your face will be clean
Ready to wear
Ironed and steamed

Steam