goodbye and hello sea

…goodbye and hello sea…

I’ve come where I have gone, a long time ago,

Seems like yesterday of yesteryear, when I was but here,

Walking, dreaming of sleeping in better times,

This was – is – home, but never felt further,

Always I sought something, a far thing,

Either from fading childhood,

Or from an uncertain adulthood,

From there – here – I look, watch, what was over here,

These streets seem wider, emptier,

But filled with something else the eye can’t see,

I feel the memories like the history of ghosts,

I’ve died here before, in so many ways,

There are too many gaps here, like an unfinished artwork,

Too many incomplete strokes, too little emphasis,

But the newbies continue,

They drink from the same gutters,

Coloured differently: faded colours; changed signage,

It’s been something else, this place,

To me at least…

I’ve tasted relationships in an unhurried youth,

I served my time, watched from behind layers,

Boxed in my thoughts, I know that I fought,

For here I go now, like I never was here,

Here I turn my back like I never knew,

Anything like home, I can’t believe,

It’s been a beautiful journey, the winds have cried,

My words have flown,

My hands have touched,

My laughs have burst,

My imprint remains,

Always in my memories,

Gone for eternities…

the long white road

…the long white road pulls me,

An ogre hand of gravity,

I tilt like a withered petal,

My questions are upended…


…it sucks on my ink,

The journey leaves no prints,

But the white road demands more,

Death splatter off the shoulder…


…hazards abound, jaws rattle through the night,

The wick from a black candle,

Guides on the long white road,

Danger: endless bends…


…the road goes on and on,

All white and no shadows,

All life and no phantoms,

No: broken creatures are welcome…


…express through ritual,

Lost with no weather report, the clouds,

Hug my imagination chewing on engines,

Write through the long white road…


…enter and keep going,

There’s no traffic in a congested cupboard,

Full of skeletons: roadworks,

Detour, turn the page, to the next long white road…

Mystery Market

Wearing the black of a sea traversing merchant,

I stand in a square with nothing but sums on my mind,

Beyond the spent fortunes of days as a servant,

One eye cast low and long for those riches men can’t hide,

My wares an assortment to enchant the purest beasts,

Of a grade to quench even the swelling thirsting of the earth,

From that place where the Moon’s Shadow sleeps,

Back to the sharpened edge of the unfinished dream I prefer,

Customers with strange customs oblige with desire,

Without which their manner would be most uncommon,

A need in any world comes full circle and never expires,

Just as life takes every drop of blood without ever stopping,

I offer them not only what they want but what their made for,

Something in the abstract a taste that leaves a quaking tingle,

Never a handshake or deep embrace while there is a world to explore,

A trade at fair price with the devil in the details,

A mark on the soul is a game target for the burning third eye,

When beating hearts clash with swords honour pales,

Blackened hammers with dull minds grace surely dies,

Quick fingers change destinies and flatter with humour,

A trick not acknowledged is still a lesson even far from the seas,

What you now have will eternally hold you in stupor,

What I now have you will one day beg for on your knees…



Oil pours from the eyes,

Sockets soggy with grief…


Butterflies in my head,

Their wings scrape my metal,


Something inside there…


Simply isn’t working,

Clogged with bad dreams,

Not sure what that means,


My will has surrendered,


It burns on my skin,

This desert sun emotion,

Mushrooms blooming from my armpits,

I’m half dancing backwards,


Smile with grey teeth,

Just a stone’s throw from home,


Black Mist Woods

The hood of my long cloak casts a shadow on my face,

My eyes down cast, staring at the ground as if wishing it away,

But the carpet of dead leaves, insect bones, and moist earth,

Are as real as the dreams I didn’t ask to be there,

This side of the world is mine by design,

I pray to it with silence and it hears me through the torment,

The paths from here are many, tangled and inviting,

In the same way that a ghost’s hand might be said to be welcoming,

I’m coming some time just give me one more chance,

The first step like crossing a starving chasm with a black hunger,

My still roots burn holes through hell,

I cannot leave until I understand the face of danger,

Looked upon it as if in anticipation of a noncommittal kiss,

But how am I to know what is so far from the why,

Forever will one day see me bleed through my bark,

Will it be here amongst others that would be like me,

Or will it be beyond these woods where misty entanglement leads,

I go against my very nature by allowing thoughts to wander,

They may never return,

Leaving me to be what I think I am,

But without them I can only feel I am,

Feel I am here,

And that is all that matters,

For even over there,

If I feel,

Then I know I’m still here…


smudged thumb print on the second last petal

imprint of a feeling that hungered

snap back with the stinging as the red shows

a wounded flower so pretty in its pose

still pretty with only one hope left

clinging to the base of its blossom with cloying grandeur

at least it thinks

at least it continues to define the whole

apart from the stem

the others sigh green

why always this one

always the last one born

so pretty can’t you see

its edges catch reflecting raindrops

with swirling smiles from the sun


and stars

it could command the galaxies this one

leaving four fingered prints on their lenses

making them so giddy they’d spill their soil

exposing all routes

there would be truth in that

a way at the very least

to make its detachment



Gone Gone

An unsmiling leaden cloud cynically blocks out the sun,

Hogging the sky, as if it alone has rights to the day,

An uninvited wind, unseen and death cold, steals its own moment,

Pretending to be uninvolved…

“A world of darkness is one without answers,

A life full of answers is one with too many bad questions…”

White flashes of pain accompany the metallic rumble,

A sour rain threatens to pour from my eyes,

Dousing what’s left of this day and killing my hope,

I can already taste the earth…

“The faith of the faithless is never tested or wasted,

Yet it throbs with the strength of its own purpose…”

When the land is soaked through and yet my throat remains dry,

I know time has left me behind to face the night alone,

Wrapped in my own feelings I imagine a moon after the storms,

And my roots shiver…shiver…shiver…

“Growth is immeasurable while it happens,

It becomes shy when you stop to notice it…”