All The Things

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Showing posts with label polecats & poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label polecats & poems. Show all posts

19 May 2018

That fucking dense one

It's like retaliation,
It suits being rooted in the ground.
This lot of land was given water
Motes and speckles float
Falling here and now revolving.

In the heart of the ancient city
Only luminaries sit amongst stone
Their ganglion limbs wrap around
Their little inklings winking.
Growths and pores leak spores
And rush to flood the sun.

So small they live in all
So small they live in the air
Reflecting a fiery presence
By a thump and a rattle
in the deep den there.

Grey fields stand tall as shields
Tumbledown round huts emptied and
ripped apart like wet cardboard.
Under a slip of leathery mud and grit,
Hands turned crust black and meticulously scabbed
Held up like orants with the bone white moon
Pitted and stopped in orbit.

18 May 2018

A City


A beaten brow
Raised atop a rooftop
Drums a slow decay
It softly slips away
And away

Insulting little feather downs
Plucked and brazen
From a trailing vine now
Caught by masters of war to pound

There are little hands
That touch the muted swan’s song
Three brass buttons slipping to shimmer

Too full to fly out
Seeping inside a silent cry
But hushed and keen and hollow
Where outside armouries are packed

Motes lift along a wet crackle
Little radio hath come to life
Turning past the point of static
Pushed by the wind
To tune in is not listening

Choose to move to the absolute
Tall reeds and glasses raised
belie a lotus flower
its roots plunge turning low
and if unless it is let go

that is ever to be picked
and clinked again
then again risen
and to try not to again because
follow not I 

Where worthless folly
In striking at everything
creates nothing
but emptiness

What can be forgotten
Feels like losing touch
The shadows melt together
Our fingers have gently caressed
God's weathered face
He slaps it away.
What did you expect?
That's our lot.

The tip of this triangle
Folding forever
But to be settled
Where it started.

Roaring dust where it belongs
This battle lines the lungs
Grit falling in time with thy breast
To turn over again

Classroom

I took a long walking holiday across the Scottish Highlands with one of my best friends. It was the first extended expedition i'd ever ...