My time

Is not mine

But our time

You’ve made your bed in my dreams

I lie in it

But 

this isn’t me

See,

I would part with my skin

If it weren’t attached 

And never look back

But

Each night when I close my eyes for sleep

I see you in my head

Your feet poke out one side of your bed

And oh,

It makes me giddy for you

And so,

I end up crawling in bes...

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Nostalgia,
it can rip your heart away.
Nostalgia,
it points the way to your grave.
Every lie I ever told was true,
like all the smiles I fake for you.
Cemented guilt,
my layers of achievements’ truth.

Paranoia,
it puts the blood upon your mouth.
Paranoia,
it’s washed upon the ground.
Creases cut into a romantic brain.
We spiral down.
We asphyxiate.
Romanticize a prayer
I forgot...

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Preamble: for this week's Saturday Rhymers theme of "moving", just for FUN repeat FUN, here is my first attempt at a... well, you'll see.

Gotta keep on moving ‘cos it hurts to stand still.

Gotta weep in proving that my work’s not landfill,

Gotta seek to be outrageous ‘cos this weakness is contagious,

Gotta be a freak to speak out and break out of all these cages.

Gotta kee...

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I remain broken

**********

Pretty pink.

Soft, baby pink.

Gentle, rose petal pink.

Full of love, heart shaped pink.

Lipstick for the ladies pink.

Sickly-sweet icing pink.

Prim and proper,

don’t get your dress dirty,

pink.

Pink.

Pink.

Pills.

**********

“You’re such a girl,” he jokes,

As I refuse the offer, of one of his, ‘smokes.’

His eyes alive wit...

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Riding the night train home
you fall asleep, head on my shoulder
I watch our reflection in the glass
watching our reflection
age
improve
converge
expand
as you sleep
on the night train home…

It’s a short walk on a summer evening
a short walk to our place
my arm around your shoulder
pulling you in close
I look up into the sky
deeply
drunken
grateful
expansive
but I see no stars...

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Tyre tracks on dirt roads
storm chasers
looking for the eye
or something on the other side

Peddle kisses the floor
world whips past the window
tearing up the old road
headed North, searching for more

We were happy here
(eventually)
but could there be greater happiness
elsewhere
storm is a chorus
always another verse 
on the other side…

In some mad way
we’re headed for a great...

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Empty boxes now unpacked,

I pretty sure I left with more.

A new house with new memories,

But an old house with bare floors.

Still there's promise in the air,

And potential in the frame.

Perhaps here I will thrive,

I know it can't be the same.

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They dwell in strange rooms
the murky recesses of affordability
barely buildings, bedrooms with sinks
chair pushed up against the door
flakes of lives flung everywhere
A curtain, a quilt - who can really say?

A bare bulb hangs in an open window
no shade inside from day or night
Still lives go on; the rudimentary,
ramshackle, clutching at homeliness
the need for shelter unites us all
...

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SOUTHERN SONG

I’m one of the boys; I’m one of them who lives in my southern English town of Witches’ Elbow.

We just love it in our quaint little town by the sea, we chill out on the beach on the long summer nights, drinking warm beer and making love on the sand dunes knowing these moments will last forever.

I’m originally from the north and moved to Witches’ Elbow coz I ...

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Gather them all together
pack those verses tight
place them in the boxes
make sure they're labelled right

For poetry in motion
can have meanings more than one
we've lived here seven years and more
but soon we'll be moving on

So many things to sort through
the trappings of our lives
odd tools there in that drawer
including pocket knives

All of them have meanings
that others cannot see
and may yet find them...

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