In the Ocean

Sometimes, life seems 

like a dredger: 

we are pulled along 

by unseen forces, 

bickering amongst ourselves 

as we squabble and fight, and 

all the while the boat 

still chugs along. 

We are the fish at the top of the net, 

struggling for breath 

and daylight. 

Below us are those who do not stand a chance 

but still fight on. And below them 

are long dead and 

suffocated creatures.

And left behind 

in all of this 

is a seabed 

left decimated 

and debauched.

But life does not have to be like this: 

it will only ever be like this 

if we carry on seeing ourselves 

as the fish. 

Some want to be one of those men on the boat;

I just want to be the ocean,

pulling in and out

with the billow and blow of the wind,

the hug and release of the moon,

the gulp and the scallop

of the gulls and the land;

as waves form, and break, to their own tune,

and the world cups us briefly in its old, loving hands.

Scar

I trace the scar on your

knee, that was made

when you were eight;

when you fell

from the apple tree

in your back garden.

I touch it gently,

the skin pale, and

silky, sensitive still;

I want to eat your scars,

peel them off like communion wafer,

let them melt on my tongue;

chew you up and spit

you out, smooth and clean

like a polished stone.

But you are you:

scarred and whole.

The stars stare down

enviously upon you.

Now crown my firmament:

let me take you home.

Breath

My heart was an ember

          and you blew on it;

took out your blade

          and carved 'true' on it.

You blew on my fire

          with a faraway wind;

it took for ever to come,

          but time does magic.

Now, as I unwind,

          I wonder, will it stop?

But no: this fire is strong;

          this last act is long: not tragic.

         

All sonnets must end

          with a rhyming couplet,

but when I look at your form

          I see formless -

So fuck it.

In the Deep

We were out there in the water

swimming in the deep,

seeing things as they were living.

But where were you

whilst we were swimming?

Were you sitting on the beach?

Whilst we were out there,

swimming: swimming

in the deep.

The phosphorescent blooms

of coral were steep,

as the ocean fell away,

down into the deep.

And where were you

whilst we were swimming,

swimming in the deep?

Were you

in the mountains?

Were you tending

to your sheep?

O! but the things we saw

when we were out there,

swimming in the deep!

Things we could not tell -

things we could not keep.

But where were you

whilst we were swimming?

Were you sitting

on the beach?

Lyrical (untitled)

You consume art
Like a man consuming chicken hearts,

But what's left in your heart
In that afterdark,
When the taste has melted away?

Sensation goes the way
of sensation:
It greys,
Leaving you craving something

Meatier
Far richer,
A treat for yer
To cloak your hurt.

You been craving.

That material
so-real-to-you

craving.