msh58

nothing but great stuff. just really liked reading them tonight.

Strange Famous

XXXII

Winter's breath, like my heart, is cold and fragile;
A reconstruction, The wind bites at an angle
Opposite to my face as I keep my eyes to the ground.
Dirty light bleaching the concrete, littered here and there
With weeds, it reminds me of the wallpaper in the place
I grew up, the air vibrates with the possibility of harm
And then rushes up all at once, like a fist to a face.
These moments feel like memories, a different place
A different child. Stood on a short well, trying to see over
A taller one, looking back I can't see who I was.
And then, looking upwards, with my home school haircut
And my arms covered in grass stains, what did I see?
I can't feel connected anymore, and it fills me with such sadness
Like a cold winter wind, like an unreturned called
Like the crack of a bat against a piece of ground
Burned up and helpless, I really dont know
I really dont know

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

Strange Famous

270309

My heavy eyes burn a circle from here to there
From me and you, to the car park blues
My black and blue eyes hide no secrets
Except the punches that I have taken
Walking all the way from your house
To the riverbed, with its broken shopping carts
It's empty bottles, its timeless dreams of misery and loss.

I sit on the flood wall, which is not old and has no stories
Smoking a cigarette, cradling a tin of warm beer
The wires between us are not broken
But somehow I dont have the energy anymore
To listen to you laugh and not mean it, to
Listen to you spell your own name and mine
One after the other, and one at a time.

I walk under streetlights, nearly all the time
On broken rails, and gravel paths, and this
Driveway unlined by poplar tree's. I write your name
On my arm, like a big red horse, its a joke
That you didnt get, a joke when the punchline
Is me. I've grown old, smoking these cigarette's
Staring at the nasty water, growing frigid in the spring cold.

My tired grey eyes scan from left to right
I guess they always move that way.
I remember everytime I held your hand, I remember
That scarf you always used to wear, even
When it wasnt cold, even when you didnt care.
Even when love was not just a word, but
Was not the other thing as well.

My black eyes never seem to heal, too many fights
And too many songs I never learned to sing.
I never broke my fingers in the door like you
And I still can't play violin. I never rode a bike
Like you, isnt that a funny thing. I never
Wrote a single word, in my entire life, that
Meant a thing when it is compared
To the shape of your shoulder
Lying on my bed, watching some stupid TV show.

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

kramus

Thanks for posting this, SF. You are a true Wordsmyth.

__________________
And now to disengage the clutch of the forebrain ...
I'm going with this - if you like artwork visit http://markfineart.ca

Strange Famous

280309

A mist came ringing in from the sea
While I watched from the snooker club
Taking whisky while the fat man drank warm beer
There's no monsters hidden behind the blanket
No ghosts climbing out of the futile, endless sea
Just a couple of middle aged men not athcing
Any fish.

A car came drifting down the drive, the headlights
Catching the side of my bedroom wall
Every moment between then and now has felt
Exactly the same, and every second is gone
And can never be recovered. Peeling off hand knitted gloves,
Swinging a bamboo cane, walking along the low brick wall
Watching the ravens and the tall poplars that reach out
On my left

A hand full of damp earth, a slap in the face
Tears bitten back, a fist clenched inside, a broken clock
The path between here and the railway track, the
Old golf course, there are so many ways to say
That I feel more and more alone, that my childhood is lost,
Cannot be recovered, was burned away like an unwatched
Candle, and now I am a man. Its always about a girl
Its always about me.

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

Strange Famous

110709

A wild yet formed right handed swing, a roundhouse kiss
A shock of brown hair dancing in the overcast light
My heavy steps, lurching to the left, too quickly
For me to keep up. An airplane overhead.

An overcooked plate of meat and vegtables, a second kiss
Planted thoughtlessly against a naked throat
A can of beer, a silent engine, ticking over in my head
I could throw it straight through this window and laugh out loud
Just as easily as I could sink into this comfortable chair
Feel your weight move besides me, into me, against me:
watching the latest death toll on TV

A glass of orange juice, chilled by my failing fridge
A broken alarm clock, that wakes me up every day
A third kiss, on your shoulder, you always close your eyes
And smile. You always close your eyes and smile.
I hold you close to me. One day I will die, and so,
Logically, will you.

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

DaniGirl

I like this one. You are talented.

---------- Post added at 01:06 PM ---------- Previous post was at 01:05 PM ----------

I really enjoyed reading them, I still have more to go.

Strange Famous

01-08-2009

An ugly tree formed the centre of the picture, warped, blighted
Old but without dignity. Beneath its unattractive branches
I walked hand in hand with her, passed the stupid river,
Passed the unused rail track, passed the clever wall.
It seems so unexpected to me that I should fall like this
For someone who has never seen a ghost;
Who has never needed to be rescued from the old factory,
By a wild eyed, heavy handed, overweight young man.

A good natured swan floats on past, an Amy Winehouse track
drifts from an unseen stereo: and in my mind I record
the moment, perfectly. But I cant describe how it feels.
I see you smile, I notice how in summer the sun lightens
Your hair, and darkens your skin. And I just have a stupid
Red horse angrily drawn upon my left arm.

I still sleep with a tyre iron by the bed to protect me from ghosts
But I wont hold hurl empty threats at the weakling god of this ugly river,
Tarnished with empty tins of beer and failed warehouses and
The long dead and lost, anymore. Crouched down by the flood wall
Later on at night, I whisper urgently a prayer, and I dont
Know if anyone can hear me, but I do it all the same
It sounds so stupid to say, but its true, I m in love her.

And later again, I'm in a still unfamiliar flat, drinking coffee, staring
At the lines of my hand, trying to see some epiphany in
The pudgy grey skin and invisible scars that might tell my destiny

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

Strange Famous

24-10-09

The rain came in from the east, in the early afternoon
The murderer sat staring at the wall, inside a bare and ugly kitchen
The blood long washed from his hands, his back turned to the room,
His wife and son hiding in the other room, but not admitting
That they were

Later, a whole history inbetween, the son cowered by the sea front
In the deep at night, hearing the call of the angry waves, trying to talk
Himself into walking all the way in. But he did not.
Seems a silly thing now, to walk into the black without return
Over some fat secretary, with a crooked bubble perm

The grandson I know well, for it is myself, and I think
To myself it must be the same time of year, but I cannot tell for sure,
That I sit here, drinking sour wine, finding clumsy words
That express a feeling deep inside that I cannot articulate
The rain still comes in from the east, the sea still beats the stones
On the cold wind broken beach, not many miles from here.

I paint my hands in red, but it cannot feel the same, I step outside
Slightly drunk in the early afternoon, uncertainly, I find my way
To the flood wall, smoke a cigarette. I stare at the water, timeless, stupid,
Lazy, and I throw my cigarette in, half smoked. Back inside, I sit
At the kitchen table, my back to the empty room, my
Phone turned off, my old grey stereo turned all the way up,
Distorting old jazz tunes.

I imagine a ghost, summoned by the river, walking straight inside
He see's my hunched up shoulders, he see's my piles of my books
A butterfly knife, never used, stting on the shelf. He see's a photograph
Of my girlfriend, smiling, standing beside another man, pinned up on the wall
Beside a poster he doesnt recognise, a Carravaggio. He sees a pile of litter
Spilling out of a supermarket plastic bag besides my left foot, a
Pornographic magazine, a half dead carton of cigarette's, a long dead
Bottle of wine.

He coughs, a nasty caustic sound, and the rain comes down harder
as if in sympathy. And the fat unfriendly figure at the desk
Does not turn around, although the hunch of his shoulder deepens
And his left hand flexes once or twice, in a gesture of melancholy.

The bad old ghost has long faded away when I stand at last, take
a glass of whiskey, smoke another cigarette - stare out the window
At the grey rain battered river with eyes I imagine, falsely,
Give nothing away.

__________________
"Do not tell lies, and do not do what you hate,
for all things are plain in the sight of Heaven. For nothing
hidden will not become manifest, and nothing covered will remain
without being uncovered."

The Gospel of Thomas

Bijoufem

- Loved reading your poetry many thanks for sharing...