poem

Come and Dance with Me

Come and dance with me – no?

Come and dance with me – no,

Come and dance with me,

Oh please. And don’t you reject me,

 

Come and dance with me – “yes?”

Come and dance with me – “yes,”

Come and dance with me,

Oh come and dance with me?

 

Come. Come. Come. Come – Come – Come.

Dance. Dance. Dance – Dance – Dance – Dance.

 

Come and dance with me – oh!

Come and dance with me – oh!

Come and dance with me – oh!

Come and dance with me – oh!

 

Just dance.

I’m sick of waiting for you.

If you won’t dance with me then –

Just dance, just dance, just dance, just dance.

 

Just.

Dance.

Hardly Even a Sonnet

Dipping – dancing – curling – swirling,

And a thousand other words for the actions of the heart

when its cantering pace is trebled by the next morsel of

attractive flesh sauntering its carefree way by.

And aren’t they all piti-

ful. An exacting standard for any romantic – hopeless

or otherwise – prepared to dip his quill to pen his passion,

And make the nib just dance across papyrus –

New hand-written font,

The curls and stresses of Es and Cs,

The swirls and tresses of Yous and Mes,

A stanza set apart – just like – the harsh arrhythmia

that unrequited craving brings—

 

… And whose curséd spell I remain beneath. Damn.

Move

SHOULD I
allow whatever I must give myself to fall in the slowest possible way
to the tiled floor beneath the infinite landscape of the universe
and should I
try to beat the falling objects to the floor only to watch them
shatter completely into nothing?

Because,
And I may have held them five seconds ago,
They were worth something then
but they are worth nothing now. So should I
let them go with unflinching and uncaring eyes
as I, too, lean backwards over the dark blue infinite?

Just like
The curtains above my head when I stand on the far wall
with the floor on my left shoulder,
I fall the wrong way every way completely.
I want to beat what I drop to the tiled floor, and yet I
only feel myself falling upwards.

But here
in this uncertainty that the people with the minds call the universe,
But what I will always continue to know as simply, Nothing,
I doubt it matters which direction things fall in. Because
all of us, whether we have our feet on this blue earth spinning faster than water every second,
or whether we fall the wrong way in this vast Nothing,
None of us move anyway.

Synaesthesia

When the deep red world forgets who you are,
And the singular slip petals are enough to send you down,
And the cast iron smiles are enough to send you down,
To the very base – the last of which I never even laid my orbs upon –
in the wettest and cosiest hell,
Perhaps you’ve lost sight of what it was you wanted,
After all,
You fell so easily.

But saviour yet. Because
given the single cell gasps I’ve seen throughout
my colour life,
I’ve never heard one like yours.

You see. When I speak and see the words invisible before me,
They are coloured. And somehow everything loses itself when
I notice. How may I describe it to you before I let you safe?
Or climb on my back. We’ll talk as we fly.

Climb on my back. We’ll talk as we fly.

Gentress of the most fine and glorious nature,
Been ripping in my psyche longer than I ever felt it,
Which was from birth,
And the Gentress wont stay but for now,
For almost twenty years,
My Gentress has cast this curse upon me.

Forever in colour but never blind to it. Do you see?
And when you start to notice,
And when you want everything lined up,
You fall down again.

Hang on tighter. Amazing how you fell into a place so blue
Yet a word so red. Blue and grey. But yet,
Red. You know. Red and red and red.
Fall into a place that I understand next time.

Next time, fall not into the sea.