We are the lovers
of this kaleidoscope
this ride we’re on
As we twist, we write
of the myriad colours
the fireworks dazzling our eyes
of tears, tantrums, seering sunsets
the veins in leaves
the storms between people
beautiful and terrifying
all at once

We are the lovers
of words on lips
their taste on tongues
and turns of phrase, delicious
The flick of nib on paper
the trail of i...

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To a Fellow Artist

It’s often asked: wherein does beauty lie,

In mystery bound, proportions magical,

Deciphered only by the observer’s eye,

Or in some poet’s words deemed lyrical?

I know that beauty’s not in sparkling dross,

Perfection is for fools; an empty frame,

In masterpieces, lines are found and lost,

And here, in life’s chiaroscuro lives a flame,

A caring smi...

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They chatter life and love by the water’s edge
then dive into the shimmering blue
With thoughts of painting ice cream clouds
or bottling the phosphorus moon
Daylight is for dreaming 
or cooking up a stew
The waking hours are for birthing art
or making love in the hot afternoon

Tonight, there’ll be a gathering at the Dolphin café
with wine and smiles in generous measures
mosquito nets b...

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midnight disease :: a journey with hypergraphia

life arrived with a birthmark
burnt by the touch of a daemon shaped flame
  leading the artist down a lifelong maze
only guided by the scorching Promethean torch 
along the anointed namesake road
    which delves into & through shadows
to dwell in that ethereal realm
    vaporous as floating smoke from the cigarette tip
blown in a cloud be...

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born to Cybele on a golden cloud
he appeared in a flash of lightning
carrying Prometheus on his back. 
his footsteps left luminous tracks
a blazing trail of prints 
& ground breaking indents
cementing his path through the sands of time.

when the bearded man spoke or wrote 
his words formed waves
blown by the west wind
& the sleeping dead woke
drinking his poems as an antidote
from a ...

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Take me to the hidden lake
let us wander through 
the valleys of your heart
Let us revel in the splendour
of all that rests within
Accumulations, it’s what we are
everything we’ve felt and seen

Let us swim in the hidden lake
in that secret world
deep at the core of you
Make it rain, bring forth the sun
We’ll watch the waters flow
across your canvas 
into the sea, into reality

Whe...

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I’m wearing blue, you’re dressed in red
lit by the dancing candle light
in the depths of some back table
at a late night poetry evening
Our only hope to stay safe tonight
is to keep this table between us

Some wily orator spills their guts
before the hallowed microphone
but all I care to know now
is do you smell as good as you look
Each of us wills the other to go too far
with a ‘what’...

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Folding out your wings
and fastening them to the breeze
you stand firm upon the window sill
Instinctively, you turn from me
I feel the coolness of the air
and know that soon you’ll be
nothing but a poem
on some damp page I’ll tuck away
my eyes finally wiped dry

What is that holy terror 
beating at the heart of you?
You said you long to bind your essence
to the history of the world
b...

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Rumbles have started growing louder. 
Now there appear bright flashes across the sky; 
Filled with glee, thundering sadistically. 
I admit they appear absolutely splendid to me.
Blue, white, dull grey and yellow.
No one ever says that's a great colour combo.
But is there a sight prettier than the grey clouds
Trying to cover the tints of soft crimson,
That sparkle throughout the infinitude,
...

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He looks to the left, a quick pause to check the commotion. 
There’s shouting crying out on the street. Stomping boots, 
signs in hand. It’s another day, another protest, nothing to 
worry over. She questions him, “What’s happening?” It 
could be anything or nothing at all. They want attention 
and this is the day they chose to be seen. 

“You should go, I know I would if I could.” She embr...

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Originally published in Clay Literary’s RAVEN:https://www.clayliterary.com/post/raven-issue-eight-09-06-2020

A cool October evening presented itself in front of us, 
the full moon in the sky hovered above, and the tension 
between us lent itself to lyrics that resonated to every 

following Autumn. ‘Can I just have one more Moondance 
with you, my love?’ you sang as we walked arm in arm. I...

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one step out the door
one step forward
one step closer
to the flood

one step backward
one step in reverse
one step away
from drowning

a punch to the gut
and tears streaming,
more than the smiles
more than the ‘i love you’s

and how many more years like this
how much can i take like this

i agreed to ever after
but this now, these lows
i can do without
i barely survive the cr...

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As we sit in the covid  Squallor at first i thought i'd never want to or be able to write anything about it. I was stuck in the house a lot as a kid and this time in our lives has made me feel like i was going back to that, just   slowly falling back. The closing down of old life i found too heavy  and miles too  depressing, and truthfully its still despressing but out of that came a great suprise...

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Images and words 
suddenly appear, 
words longed for 
hitting deep 
as they wrap around 
and envelop me,
overwhelming yet satisfying.

Since our last meeting 
your ghostly presence arrived 
in the oddest of places: 
romantic restaurants, 
quaint cafes, 
art galleries, 
long car drives, 
concert halls, 
walking in a park, 
every room of the house, 
and late at night in bed. 

Da...

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Spinning the same song 

that connected us

gets harder to hear.

Each verse cuts deeper 

into what never was, 

what could have been, 

the longing to be near.

With my fingertips crossing your beard, 

your fingers grazing my thighs, 

those longing sleepless nights 

I’ve waited to be alongside 

the one that knew the depth 

of my emotions,

facing eye to eye.

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He says, “you’ve been a great lover,

opened up doors for me, 

been there when I needed you

but I’m going to leave you, woman

for I know you could do better than me”

He picks up his suitcase, 

then he’s running out the door

And that’s the way it is

that’s the way it’ll always be

lovers in and out the revolving door

She says, “I’m going to leave this town

s...

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I drove down to see you
stood in your doorway unannounced
you were there with another
I again felt like an outsider
I didn’t belong
after I wrote you at length
many love songs

My poems wrapped in a box
delivered but only to be forgotten
my heart still in shock
you were going away
never to be seen again
until the month of May
when I would fly thousands of miles
just to see that smil...

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She doesn’t sing to win awards,

she sings to breathe life to her soul,

connect with spirits tuning in,

let them know they are not forgotten. 

She knows she will have critics

that judge her art lacking. 

Their negativity is nothing she hasn’t

overcome from herself a million times

on her rocky road to freedom.

She smiles as the ivory tickles her left palm,

sur...

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Meet me in the rain

So I can explain

The sun’s gone 

And it’s been too long

I look at your pictures on the wall

I shouldn’t keep them up for too long

I miss the sound of you down the hall

So I avoid the sound of you at all

It’s as if the flood gates of heaven opened up from God’s weeping

Deep down I know it wasn’t you I should be keeping

[2016]

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To surround yourself with artists
You discover you’re not stuck to this game,
There is more than just poems of pain;
Lustful nights,
The political daily life,
The chaos of family,
The bounty is aplenty.

Like the ocean explorer covering uncharted territory,
The poet must explore the deeper meaning of life.
We’re all alike,
We seek the truth;
In it we see the real you.

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Don’t be scared to put it out there
Don’t be scared to speak
sometimes what you choose to make
is pure gold

Don’t be afraid to paint what you love
Don’t be afraid to create
some things are bigger than you ever knew
eternal beyond our lives

I say go
and keep going
go and keep going
murmur love, if that’s all you’ve got

I love the way you carve it
I love the way you write
I love ...

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Always, I want to see 
the place of work
I sit and wonder
of the artist’s desk
what trinkets, what tools
they choose

Always, I picture in my mind
the artist’s desk
and what blue-tacked postcards
what scribbled notes of inspiration
may surround it

Is it by a window
is it in a basement
Do they toil below a craning lamp
or by dim candle light
do they have a desk at all
or just a s...

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Bring Back the Pin Up

I was a sexual woman

I was…

Until my consent and its importance,

I was robbed of.

This is the year where-

I rediscover her

In my coven

Friend to friend

My witchy woman tell me how to be-

A proud feminine,

Love bug again

I know, I know!

I will observe you in your glory

Take notes, mimic my old self and copy-

My memory

When i was ...

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If your art is good, as it feels in your bones

You will become known

Long after your ashes are sprinkled

And all of your senses are gone 

Particularly if you cut off your lobe

Or choose for yourself to end it all

Note scraps reveal queer love affairs

Poems show in the rubble of fallen walls

Fans will become obsessed

Frame you in the brightest light 

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In so few splashed acrylic lines

see Cornish fishing boats

take shape against the quay

the red hull and the yellow

See Cornish fishing boats

mirrored in the harbour sea

the red hull and the yellow

with the deep sky sunk below

Mirrored in the harbour sea

the jumble of masts and cranes

with the deep sky sunk below

and the distant sea above

The jumbl...

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Beige walls stand empty where original artworks once hung
A woman, beyond her years in mind and body, sits at her desk
Staring at a screen that, despite vast knowledge at her fingertips
Is empty
The cloud of cognizance that enveloped her has cleared
Ridiculed by those she trusted
"Over medicated"
No more pills
No more gange
Nothing to help control the demons within her mind
There is no f...

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I need to buy tablet pen tips

Forty two hours since my last nap

Forty two thousand taps, scrapes,

And frustrated sighs

How much in sales today?

Can I sleep yet?

Is it enough?

How many strokes across digital canvas

To correct the damage done 

One commission to the next

My heart left these works long ago

Onward, fingers, onward 

Create the things they want to see

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In the creases of a crumpled T-shirt,
the darkening orbit of an orange pasta stain,
the unhinged playfulness of bright and living eyes…
the golden curls like mazes of cornfields – no way out –
The type you just want to twist around your finger –
I noticed you.
In the unrestrained laughter,
I would recall each word that tumbled from your lips
And hang on them, swing from them,
like branche...

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She was always picturesque in the garden

and the bright pop of colour amidst the grey city

In his words he tried to capture her beauty,

with objective distance, where she was ardent

She coaxed out something within him,

reignited the flames where the chandelier had grown dim

She soothed the heaving seas of his fears

and knew how to brush away his tears

With a firm but intell...

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Team GUM are taking on the Riff Awards.

Step 1.

Like the Riff page here: https://www.facebook.com/RiffMediaUK

Step 2.

Send an email to: adam-ruane@hotmail.co.uk

Put forward Kris Fogg for BEST NEWCOMER.

Put forward Ushiku Crisafulli for BEST NON MUSICAL ENTERTAINER.

You'll see us both repping Riff at RIFF SURVIVAL SUNDAY - MARCH 31st

Cheers,
Ushiku.

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My Life is not my art
My art is not my life
Yet we are like husband and wife-
When you know my Art
You begin to know me.
 
Life is not Art
Art is not Life
Yet they are like reflections
When you know life
You begin to know Art.
 
 
Life does not imitate Art
Neither should Art imitate Life
For when art is at its purest
You begin to know
                                                                        Tr...

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