Bleach

There’s a light dust in the air
Particles settling like feathers
On lungs and turning collars
A shade darker than the white
Persil bleached reflection
There’s a hum in the air
Lingering dead space
Not quite silence, but I can hear
My footsteps treading on
Chalk coloured stone
Disintegrating houses
Under summer skies
A gust of wind blows life
Back into the brief pause
A second to take in the
Magnitude and energy
To grieve in-between breaths

Bleach

Weavers

Carbon monoxide
Infiltrates lungs long before
The over-cooked smell of
Flesh wafts across the borough
Air fresheners only masking
The inside of every two-storey house
With affordable fragrant air
Cooling down from the heat
Under high Victorian ceilings
Jasmine pleasantly bursts
To detoxify olfactory passages
Clothes circle round and round
Still trying to wash away the scent
But the tiny weavers stick
Agonising as they stitch
The dead into the cotton

Weavers

Feelings

Those who write love songs
Should be shot on sight
Lined against a wall
Shown a grainy stream
Of their significant others
Weeping in pain
We drink champagne
To their broken spirit
And laugh about
Feeling dead inside
Emboldened by rage
Growing like the wall
Flowers between buildings
Speaking out is insolence
No love sweeter
Than breathing in
Cosmic dust
Feelings are a distraction
From the death
Of the universe

Feelings

Geld

It shapes how I sit
My posture hunched
No cushions
To press upon
My arched back
Neck lurched forwards
Drooping shoulders
Resigned to thinking
Less about active
Engagement soapbox
More about soapbox
Entertainment anger
I could always do better
Until the drool on my
Chin is mopped away
The kernel of an idea
Left in the plate
I can barely see
Through these rims
I used to understand
How to work things

Geld

Scratch Card

No sheltered home is laid
On tiny twigs with tiny flags
The men, long dead now
I am someone else’s son
I have been bitten
Scratched, punched
Left to die in some putrid rut
I used to walk with polished shoes
Not deceitful eyes
Detachment, a blank canvas
A new identity and language
Can be bought if you find
The winning scratch card
But all I want is to go home

Scratch Card

Carbon Dating

Hi, it’s nice to meet you
I am new here
And full of secrets
I’d rather keep
To myself.
I can weigh
Your heavy words
On small shoulders
I’m stronger than I look
But I won’t pretend
To be a perfect fit
I’m afraid of finding
The happy ending
That completes the book
Finishes the song
MakingĀ it seem
That everything
Will be alright
As we count
The number of rings
On our fingers

Carbon Dating