If only

If only

If only I’d had one moment
if only I’d had some time
if only you’d let me make some still small sense
of this imaginary rhyme

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Sleep

Sleep

If I go down to the water I can see it,
momentarily –
It reveals itself in the ripples, as if it’s winking,
slyly, at me

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The way we live

The way we live

Fires are burning, faces tracing
Nights in silence, hearts are racing
Tongues are wagging, throats are choking
Noises ceasing, voices croaking

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I’m not here

I’m not here

I’m no longer here –
I’ve been in the papers, they use the word “tragedy”, a tragedy of sorts –
no longer able to breathe, that crash, others thrown clear –
a moment’s indecision, words that mean nothing, the prayers and the thoughts –

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Somewhere in the world

Somewhere in the world

The mattress is comfortable, our neighbours are kind –
they gave us some spare clothes to wear –
our Father went over to the promised land –
he told us he’d wait for us there.

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The Road

The Road

The road is filled with burning wood
people leaving, told they should
grab some clothes and hit the road
and hear the windows behind explode

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Pigs in the barn

Pigs in the barn

Pigs in the barn
the farmer’s gone out for a spell
his Niece is covering for him
she’s had to lay down, she’s not well

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Castle in my mind

Castle in my mind

My neighbour, with his driveway entrance,
hardwood double doors
and the multi-level rooms,
over gleaming, silk-screen shores

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Freedom

Freedom

This freedom of speech, how do you defend it
is it so close to your heart that you need to befriend it
dignified silence, jettisoned, forgotten
views contrary, sullied, putrid and rotten

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Hell

Hell

In Dante’s Inferno, when trying to describe
the houses of Hell’s lamentations 
the torments, the trials, laid quick to ascribe
amidst the curses and blessings of nations

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I was only trying

I was only trying

I was only trying to be sensitive, my Mother always said
be mindful of others, offending
but she was good at it, she didn’t hold back
lived a  life she did and if others

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Where were we?

Where were we?

What was it? Where were we? Yesterday?
that made me stay away,
reined me in, stopped me calling,
not that you could hear me

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Why would you want to be old?

Why would you want to be old?

My days are numbered I know that well
it is why I’m stuck here in this living hell
the biscuits stale, the tinkle of tea
and the nurses told not to bother with me

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The truck

The truck

The truck stops, week in, out, inconvenient in the striving street
regular, if payment is required
to collect the stock piles of baby puke and waste convenience
and plastic worn deliveries, slit and thrown

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We’re not to blame

We’re not to blame

It’s not our fault, we’re not to blame
we’re just trying to maintain our freedom
we mine our dark materials, this is not a game
because there are other poor people who need ‘em

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Why do I do it?

Why do I do it?

I don’t do it for you , so your thoughts can rest easy
as you nod in your pleasant agreement
while you sip on your drink, peculiar and queasy
at my anticipated long due achievement

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If not this, then what?

If not this, then what?

It’s not the Masses, not the torments,
not the nightmares of our longing
Not the grasslands, not the homelands,
not the roads to our belonging

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One day closer every day

One day closer every day

Sheep droop jaw and hooves split in the stumble for the hay,
eager teeth picking at the stubble and the crust
Knees buckle their hollow humble eyes stare down and absorb
what was mud is now unsullied deep red dust

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The sweet sweet sound

The sweet sweet sound

There’s a sweet sweet sound moving across the settled ground
it whispers in my ear in the morning
like a solitary breeze that whistles through the trees
and summons all the birds to cease their yawning

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What are we made of?

What are we made of?

What are we made of? asks the child who cries
who just wants a toy she can play with
or to ask most politely before she dies
“is there someone out there I can stay with.”

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A place to breathe

A place to breathe

My, what a lovely place you have
you must be very proud
I love your modern furniture
and the space that you’ve allowed

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The lifestyle you ordered

The lifestyle you ordered

The lifestyle you ordered is currently out of stock
our warehouse has been stripped of supplies
our people are working around the clock
to ensure you get your hands on the prize

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I remembered yesterday

I remembered yesterday

I remembered yesterday the times that I have with you
And visions of the grateful days and all that I have wished for you

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One day

One day

There’s a ghost selling memories down by the shore
as a jury decides its fate
there’s a man of religion knocking at my door
I need to lie down, he can wait.

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My own best friend

My own best friend

Stooping down and listless still
the rain, the pavement scarried
the men they took my food and oil
and all that I had carried

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