The Filth That I Clean Up

I don’t see why you’re laughing,
Indeed, all of this is your fault. Look –
Everything is in its place, ready for you to see.
I am done cleaning up the mess of your past.

I blame you for the restless nights,
Understanding only the need to run and hide –
While everything falls apart and blends,
Until you return to smudge the surface.

Still I clean, washing away with what was prescribed –
With little comprehension of the stains.
All that I see is the dirty hands of elevation,
Feeding me and draining me.

I am powerless to resist the mirror-image;
The side that everyone knows and loves.
‘Great fun’ they say, ‘Life and soul’
And ready to collapse into the filth that I clean up.

Learning

Well 2017 is just around that familiar corner,

So what have I learned?

What can I bring into the new year to guide me?

It’s odd, but the same answer crops up.

I bring myself; that is achievement enough.

Red Loop

​I wiped my brow and sobbed –

Everything is clean and fresh.

Today, the machine was complete;

A portal into the past, wow!

I will choose simplicity; two days ago –

I would still be working, finishing up;

What a surprise I would be to myself!

The strain of completion drains us all,

We obsess with perfection; dull pain

And headaches bleeding into the corner.

Ah yes, two days ago, how could I forget –

A test run to warm the components 

Complete with Shiny metal contortions.

I don’t remember why I struck out,

Just seemed unnatural, crawling through

With arm extended – grinning horror.

I just kept hitting until all stopped

And there lay a pool of my future.

Had to forget…keep believing….

Change the subject and remove the stains

That fate is surely nonsense… breakdown

Of atoms that can change in seconds.

Momentarily I was not myself;

Should never have been so close

To the hammer….my eyes were alive!

Heart was beating, pounding –

And then all was quiet. Success.

I will offer my hand in friendship and smile

And it will finally be over.

Suppression

Into my Dreams
I see what needs to be seen every night
In its simplist forms within gravitation, flashing
Over my head and sliding out the pieces.
Large indentations of feeling, suppressed moments
Of a time when pushing deeper into the recess
was almost a certainty – necessary.
Some float low, taking an interest with attraction;
The higher beams – Clouds in the eyes; frustrating
To ultimately be unreachable.

Seeing into this little world with eyes wide and aloud –
The skin can sit somewhat softer when needed.
In reality there is no hope to access when awake,
What is needed when you are really Wide open.
Drifting horrors of twenty years past stay high –
They must; that is their purpose, they imprint pain
Without swooping down to suffer again.
No, they stay put within me, outside me,
While I feel what needs to be felt
To drift off for another watery-eyed night.

This is how it is everywhere;
This is how I can survive.

Bring Out The Best In Me

I studied the sky intently with a borrowed suit
Designed to wait in the way required by them
However, I could barely stand up straight.
The wind whistled the tune of change in us all;
Difference was hard to spot, but noticeable.
I straightened my silver tie and watched.

Today is a delegation, A kind of meeting;
Awaiting the masters who have always controlled us,
Kept us safe, stopped us from moving too quickly.
I suppose I should be grateful for the envious honour
To greet, parade and welcome the Overseer
Into their world of limitless Joy in the castles.

My feet clicked and my back engulfed me;
Just stand and smile while taking it all in
To show the world what peace really looks like.
After all, I don’t suppose people even noticed a war,
There was no rubble, no burning buildings of hate.
It was an extermination of our disorder; Priceless.

My first guess was that we needed to be taught a lesson;
A demonstration of mechanised efficiency so valuable,
So understandable to live in the castles with pride.
I can turn and see these rounded marvels of steel;
Forged with precision and undeniable authority
Making sure we stand where are with our silver ties.

When the night is as dark as graphite, they appear.
It is almost routine to hear the buzz before your eyes
Adjust – whether with tears or the clouds of dust accumulated.
Emotions aside, here they are and here I am; sold
To the natural way of life, Inside the tall towers.
I sometimes wonder what living on the outside is like.

My ancestors were slimy in their intent; Dominating
With their thoughts of world supremacy – Metal Bullets.
The delegation is a sign of change and continuity all in one;
The Earth is not big enough for two contrasts; stigma.
We sit and take it all in while the mechanised control
And tell us what we are thinking with a sense of purpose.

There are two types of person; we are told this all the time.

Papers

He said to me, casually
One day at a time
While checking his Gold Watch
And noting the observers.

The robotic station was evident
White sheets drawn up
With a memorandum of intentions
That never work for me.

Those eyes: So understanding
That things really will get better –
But not today, not here
And not surrounded by papers.

A brush and wave; A pat
And then it was done – Monthly
No more words were ever needed
None was ever going to be given.

I leave, we all leave together
Judging the situation around us –
The sun is still high in the clouds
As I sit and wait for the next one.

I wish I could float

I wish I could float
Taller than the sky below
To see the curvature;
Wave at the windows
Inside the little dome.

Arms apart, Hands free
Feet shaking uncontrollably
As the world zooms in;
A mirror of the pain below
Moving further away.

Swimming through Air
In the midst of treading
Cycling with childish grace;
Tears running down my face
To keep up and follow.

I see what I need to
When I’m nearer the stars
And nothing is up here;
Wilderness can be bliss
Looking down at colour.

Somewhere up here anyway
I aim to see the past
That the ground seems to miss;
Violent struggles of time
Spat out into the air to catch.

I wish I could float
To see the line of thoughts
Sadly erased from memory;
Hidden, controlled and lasting
Waving back at me.

I float, I see; we all see.
When I reach what I’m looking for
Crash.

Lone

Empty house so full of light –
Breathing into every new day;
Open-plan demonstrations in twilight
With me and my bed in the middle.

Empty house take in the air for us –
Circulating freshness in channels;
Bitter fighting in the blind spots
As I try and hide with sound appreciation.

Empty house in the wooded clearing –
New life with every open window;
The yellow flames twinkle to white
With duck feathers all around me.

Empty house with it’s picture presentation –
A testament to well loved oak;
Standing tall as the lone warrior
Sipping in the morning air in waves.

In Memoriam.

Slow Drip

Dripping through the cavities
We see each other; hidden, obscured,
Yet very well aware of the decay.

The picture frame is hanging
Obviously at a slight edge, angled;
Unnerving all observers.

We are literally who people see us;
There are no cracks to cover at all.
The surface is bad enough to explore.

Everyday is a sweat-soaked trauma
Of keeping ourselves together;
We are all in this spiral mess.

The pains are imagined; universal.
Experience is the key to survival;
Understanding what pain actually is.

Laughter Of Language

If there was anything left that I could hold onto
No matter how hard it was to translate;
I would do so in a skip of a heartbeat
Even though it would probably end me.

If only the translation was acceptable enough
That communication was bearable in this mess;
Surprises always trickle around this old corner
And reveal themselves as another boundary.

Laughter is the new normality of communication
When all is escaping into a flurry of voices;
If only the words could be concise to sentence
Swearing that the farewell is a common embrace.