Last scar of the night

Insomaniacal

I see my posts and I wonder

what sort of fucking state

did you have to get into

before you thought you could face the whole

world

your teeth stained brown

red wine and heroin

and I am not proud of my choice

of off the shelf prescription

I just want to sleep

like the snow

that when it comes brings a town to a standstill

and I do not want to stay alive

to see what comes

of another meltdown

If I had a gun I’d be even more dangerous

to my head than the unspeakable hours

I chalk off like a debt

to existence itself

while in me the strong wind blows

taking out my windows

nothing it seems will take my sails out

not cutting nor cursing

nor cooking

they all speak to me of the alive

while I burrow in rags

nursing

so many past wounds only a slave would brandish

his past crimes seeking out an audience

in his infantile search of some kind of

humanist justice

    

New Poem after a Long night

Troubled man

What will it cost to buy sleep

from the untroubled man

with his twinkling bag

lately imported from somewhere

probably deep Afghanistan

what will it cost

to be given the cure

to everything in consciousness

all that dwelleth in sin

consoling all that ails you

what will it take to counteract

these open eyes

and these arms glowing out so red

what will give me antidote

that will bring me to bed

I ache like seagulls’ caws

and I will break

come sundown

what else do I have to consume

the sleepless power of wine

the gasp of nicotine

another line

before nine

the gulls retire at dawn

how can I follow them down?

    

Prison letter to an open heart

Prison letter to an open heart Dear heart I know you are inside but you affect the outside I know your bars are real and not my thick imaginings I know you know a loneliness right now I cannot think about I know I abuse my freedom even as I write to you I have less to share without you being there for nothing ever changed except for your funny take on it here Dear heart I know your nights must be the longest nights anyone I have ever known must have ever known I know you have to rise up every morning whether you're fine or not I know you're not and we are the nanny state's worst nightmare we couldn't go straight if we tried and we have tried I know Dear heart you've only been missing for a short time but you are already missed I hope there are regular visits I hope to bring you books I hope you play chess till it hurts I hope you become a listener find your strength in your charm and keep your chin up like the born survivor you always were Dear heart I know you are inside but you can always move me I will be your eyes and ears I will seek out stories we will make a mockery of time in her dulled sameness and jump the walls with our fantastic journeys

    

ALL Books fully proofed and approved finally.

ALL six books now FULLY proofed, approved and awaiting distribution. I estimate two-three weeks before they will all be available, in plenty of time for Christmas, at Lulu and Amazon and Barnes and Noble etc. Remember there is a 20%-30% discount on all books at Lulu exclusively, leaving them all in the region of an honest tenner.

    

Afternoon noumenal poems

Ocean scene

These are my scattered thoughts

they are not your musings

they descend on me while you are returned

to the sleep from which you came from

half formed and far from tight

they bring the same message every night

it is time to turn it in

you are not alone when you are no longer

a living person

I dream about dissolving in the ocean

my ashes scattered on the tempered sea

endeavouring not to dream

of days out boating

floating without consciousness to spoil the scene

Unseasonal snowstorm

its flakes dance like mayflies

and flock like the birds

swathes of Starlings in Autumn

and cornered like herds

of cattle in cowfields

camouflaged by the snow

falling thick as a paintbrush

on the cornered window

First day

Each day the sun rolls by

and makes me wonder

what have I done with my life

to find an answer

to the deep unseated urge

that gnaws and badgers

from the pulsing of the heart

to the lungs' depression

and moves the will to walk

calls limbs to action

and pushes itself out into the world

Last day

As the moon goes down

stars cease their twinkle

the sea remains at shore

the waves are beaten

and the long legs of the pier appear

to bend buckle and straighten

the gulls have called to arms

and break a minute's silence

and the river seems to freeze

mouth wide and gaping

as another leaves the world

there will be no weeping

as the wind sweeps in from the east

where the town was sleeping

    

Back/Slash: a kindly response for Joe

Back/slash

You think you know

if I taught you anything

it is that you don’t know me

you don’t know

where they come from

the scars

wrinkled out over years of attacking them

yes them those of you

who belong to

anything but the end

which is all I have ever held on to

if I made a friend

it was worth the staccato

beats and threats

of my Dad

absentee to my daughter

and you want to know why I’m fascinated

by water

all I know is the pour

and the heart

so hungry

it will go without food for a glimpse

of the holy

I have seen it in you

I have seen it in the long far-off greeting

of a fellow lonely

only love would allow

to get anywhere

near me

I watch for you in the clouds

and in the trees

and I know I know

yes I know

that you are coming for me.

    

Love dies (New poem)

Love dies

The cruelties and indignities of age

catch up with us whether we are looking for them

or not/ each day taken like another little needle

in the finitude of arms we reach out with

and gasping grasp for

once I was a teenager/ now even in my twenties

it feels like more than a lifetime ago

when I would teach and in teaching taught that

there is only one place we have to go

and everything else but a preparation

for this

it was over sixteen years since I bought the album

I sing along to now/ betraying my age

and how I sing to heaven

knowing there is no heaven but the sleep

of incoming death

and love is the first thing to go

and in its fading like the light of an Autumn night

lets go/ and in its twinkling dies

    

Ah, the artist at home

    

Two Noumenal Poems

That stuff

I am not of that stuff

that tears around

craving gain and advantage

and flies close to the ground

knocking weather vanes

from churches

and blowing the odd old tree down

peeling rooftiles from houses

and kicking in doors

in pursuit of that craving

anything will do

it will fly out to sea

it will obscure the moon

and destroy every living thing

under the sun

I am not of that stuff I am cold

like the breeze

that trickles down the mountainside

and ripples in streams

it seeks ponds in their stillness

and clouds in their form

it seeks peace

to all purposes

and brings light to the dawn

To the moon

The moon is full tonight and my anxiety

rises up to greet the old girl's frown

the look of yellowed shock as I approach her

bids me caution as I slow me down

I am afraid she looks like she might swallow me

whole and leave my bones for lunar dust

as I start to sing in earthly harmonies

a calm descends across her puckered crust

    

Bronze mining - new confessional poem

Bronze mine

I caved again

went mining for the gold

buried at the centre

of an ocean of foil

wrinkled as my desire

inert as my lust

for sister/ or daughter

accused by my being

an actor a player

born of fury

splitting the guilty parts

of my mother

terrified by my father

necessarily near

I couldn’t be further than

a rapist/ barely a lover

would I make

and then only if there could be

a chemistry more strong

than the ones I inhale

some far worse than

the other

Kenneth Williams my anchor

the comedy actor

and professional prude

I’ve no need

now I’ve arrived

as I have caved

now I draw breath/ now I dive

beneath the bronze

under the lines

I run like blood

over the foil

rumpled like land

seen from above

I give with love

and I take

the ocean

an afternoon stretched out like

a spread-eagled glove

woven over the brain

ensconcing the heart

and taking slowly

over

the ministry the art of running

slower as you get older

far more focused

the bends

the roads you take

you living thing

you suicide

survivor

    

New Poem

Co-dependent

I take on the flat

effectively on my own/ my new flatmate

worn out

after only two days of going without

a week’s worth of prescriptions

while I get the bills done

muzak on my phone

and all the while the gleaming outside calls

adventurous on wine

I started drinking before one

and my heroin habit

is starting to show

as my finger hovers over a number

that would bring me a bag

more swiftly than the Canadian snow

a distant friend knows too well

my flatmate awakes

and soon enough we are friends again

I even take his co-codamol

tramadol

but he’s going to sort out his housing benefit

our rent situation

and his list of complaints twice as long

for only half the money/ means

I’m losing direction again

without work to make

without speed to take (although I could make that happen)

I decide to summon up instead a risotto

to make him smile and portly

and think

he has me right where he wants me

    

Excerpts and precautions

    

More, Assorted Thoughts and Abortions

    

Psycho's Verbatim

    

(Late Night) Letter to the Lost of Heart

Letter to the lost of heart

Dear heart you are lost

You have lost your faith and hope and ways by which to replace

that missing faith and hope

You have lost your belief system

You have lost that which you pinned your modest dreams on

and lost your ambition

You have lost that which you would claim for yourself

You have given yourself away to the wind

and to the birds

You have torn strips out of your skin and given them out like mealworms

You have placed and misplaced the blood

You have offered yourself whole

to a word

You have traded yourself entirely for a word in an ear

You have spoken of love

and lost

You have reached for the edges of things with your sensitive fingers

and lost again

You have lost your grip

You have aimed for the centre of the heart of a girl

on more than one occasion

held out for a woman

You have taken your time and drawn a bead on that which is worth waiting for

and you have missed

You have lost your coat and your hat to the needs of strangers

You have lost your house

You have lost your friends or what friends you had

You have lost your family

Dear heart it is not unfair to say there is very little you haven't lost

but you may not lose heart

any more than the sun can lose its shine

so long as you beat

Dear heart so long as you hurt

Dear heart you're mine