I want Fantasy

25/09/2013 at 21:41 (Method Writing, Personal, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


I’m in a black-purple mood tonight. My head is a beetle’s back, a monochrome night. Bonelight, moonlight. You can try and follow, but the cats have business of their own, and I follow around corners.

My shadow creep-claws the way.

My eyes are restless as my feet, it’s not something I wonder at too much. Intro to outro, extro to invert and back again. Keep the streets for me.

I was an introvert raised by extroverts. An endless parade of parties and sorority-like gags, dinners and hiding behind floor-length curtains with my nose in a book. Hiding with the cats, down by the mud-gullies and creeks, wading and climbing trees, while they sipped tea and talked Nothing.

Lonely child, now come with me
Into the wood, the dark to find
The light shall fail within your eyes;
The sweep of love is only lies.

I did not fall, nor did I stare
But found the path that we all know
Now tremble, Time, for all is fair
In love and lust, and bonelight glow.

…My darling, the story has yet begun to take hold.
Abide with me, in
Peace (something like it)
Through the mirror, the cracks
Of time, the broken watch
The sentry fallen asleep
His round not yet done, but Time
Is an angular thief
And we are but stickmen in his gaze

A puppet, a clown, a fool
A black rose, blue
A thought, turned to you
A mental shroud, an illness tau(gh)t
With what must be, with all, without.

Come. Walk. With. Me.

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Going Far

15/09/2013 at 02:03 (Personal, Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , )


When distance measures in a smile
A frozen word, a nowhere child
A message gone astray in time
When no one knew that you were mine

The world can’t seem to let us go
It strives to force the public face
And we, the players that we are
Can’t help but rise towards the chase

I wander still beneath your stars
I’m somewhere near, but going far
And nothing beats the hardest here
Than love inside a name, and fear

The in-between and where-without
Is living life inside a lie
And nothing stands a chance in time
Without the fear and love inside.

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Borrowed and Blue

12/09/2013 at 21:15 (Method Writing, Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )


This poem is a play on the marriage rhyme “Four Somethings”, thought to bring luck to a bride if she were to wear the following artifacts. It also works as a ward against infertility caused by the Evil Eye.

“Something old,
Something new,
Something borrowed,
Something blue

It has a direct link to my novel, “End of the Line,” in which a missing girl’s diary turns up more than the dark fairytales she left behind.
No One secret can stay buried forever, and a nightmare may play on a loop for as long as the secret lives.

Something broken
Something true
Something no one
Wore for you

Somehow fallen
By the way
Thriving on
The tide of day

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Rising shadows
Falling sun
Through the wild
We twist and run

Thickly cluster
Bramble snare
Tried and trapped
With wire and hair

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Flowing hem
And bloody thigh
Blue the moon
Within your eye

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Black to white
As red to grey
Silent in
Your heart the grave

Morning swallow
Thick and cold
Torn the hand
You long to hold

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Smallest face
And blindest eye
Blue the moon
The Rose, the Lie.

 photo e68f7f8b-5794-4872-aa31-8378548c6550_zpsc60f364c.jpg

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On an Atom (End of All Things)

10/09/2013 at 20:18 (Personal, Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


So, traipsing around inside my head only recalls echoed footfalls. Trickle and trace, the dance comes around again, and I find myself with sweat-rimed skin and empty eyes. There’s only so long I can breathe.

I tried. I found. I spoke. Flailed and fought, and damnit where do things go when you lay them down for a moment? Around the Nick, I need to padlock my possessions down, as the guys have kleptomania for mugs and coffee. Chocolate doesn’t stand a chance.

I love them all. They drive me mad, like all the best ones do.

I can’t imagine life outside these city walls. I’m frittering with emails, trying to find somewhere new to live, old to exist in. These stones are my mind, ancient and antiquated like good wine, fine bones, knowing eyes. I’d jump off them all into the dark, if I didn’t think it’d land me in a cell down the road. They’d laugh with me, turn turn again.

The night is cold with feelings and air, and I’m at a loss in the face of blank space and time. Stuck inside a circumstance.
The editing went well though.

Sometimes I find my face in a window and forget my name in the absence of things to throw.

LOUD thoughts. Not gone yet, nope. Still there, itching my brain. Bastards with sticky fingers, daemons with claws, and a tightrope to walk. Normal, sane, what’s in a name? Mine’s printed on the back of someone’s hand. They’ll wipe it off in a moment, an ink smear, a loose connection.

Freefall always works best for me when cut to the tune of a diamond song.

Friend or foe? Under the bone-white light, who could say where that word lands.
****
I can always rely on the sky.

End of All Things

At the end of all things, as the sun
Flares brighter, eclipsing the night
While the stars scream death-songs, the light
Shall dwindle and fade in all eyes.

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And in the shivering darkness
Your winter, the echoing sighs
Of battles fought and lost, and won,
Shall pale in the memory of time.

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No longer the soil grows, to be scarred
With reason, with motive or sense
No longer the bellies shall echo, love
As the Horsemen dismount and relent.

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Now watch as the tides draw back, the surf
A brilliant white, in which the sun drowns
Your hand everlasting, warm with regret
Shall find and take mine, as we wait.

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The years and the days in passing, love
Have mocked me as only a clock face can
The silence and stillness now are friends
At the end of all things, as we stand.

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No more the Summer

01/09/2013 at 00:56 (Personal, Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , , , )


I asked for banners on the sky
For words to jag and scrawl intent
My eyes were blind to details loud
To smaller notes of what you meant

The empty sun that fills the west
Leaves only low light for my eyes
You gave enough to stay the course
With breathspace only as the prize

The pain of loss is chill as bone
And nothing fills the place you left
I am the one who took the most
And gave no peace, no careful rest

So heavy heart, you’ll pay the price
And know the petals falling thin
From roses left in summer’s heat
To dry, as autumn draws me in.

So actions speak aloud the words
For now I look; no hope to find
And here the story ends, untold
With only me, my selfish mind.

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