Speak True My Friend

To speak
With false voice.
And smile
With false joy.
Is a skill to be
And cared for.
Yet to write
With fake words.
And a stolen style.
Will lead only
To revelations.
And tangles
Of lost souls.


On My Memorable Way

I no longer know
What a home is
To have.
Nor what a place
Is to stay.
As my feet are
Worn from moving.
On and over all.
My spirit used to
Jumping from love
To next obsession. 
For the illness
It runs deep.
From the scar that
Makes me move. 
Pushing me
To lands of light
Of deepest dark.
So, all I ask of you
Is a simple stone,
Where ever it was
My birth took place.
So even if I forget
All and more.
You might remember

The Body and The Bad Brain

I have a bad brain.
It wont do what I ask.
Some days it makes
Friends with ear worms.
Giving me looping
One line phrases.
Other times it
Hears things that
Were not said.

Ah yes I have
A bad brain.
Tangents are its
Favourite food.
And it waits until
I am old dog tired,
To wake up and
Spark like a fuse.

Indeed my poor brain,
Is badly behaved.
Problems it goes out
Of its way to create
Follow me day by day,
Chewing, destroying
Anything I need.

Yet my brain
For all its flaws
And tricks no treats
Is mine and makes
And me alone.

The Two of Me

I am here.
While my mind
Is there.
Anchored to mist.
Harder than
Concrete I can
And so I have
The strange
Of being two.
One is now
The other has
And a meeting,
Is impossible.
While we still
On dwelling
Upon lost

If Only I Could Remember

So enticing.
Your pearly
Opaque skin.
Defining beautiful. 
Your shapeless
Flowing form.
Achingly frustrating.
Your amoral
Forever nature.
Just maddening.
Your slippery
Ever fleeting
And still for one
I would give
To hold you.
Even more
To destroy you.

Industrial Decoration

A thin black shard
Of glimmering glass.
Grew up, stabbing
Through frosted ground.
Alone it stood
For exactly a year.
When another rose
To stand so tall.
They grew in number.
Twelve months each time.
Until one day.
They started to move.
Entwining one another.
Twisting, spinning
Higher and higher.
Forming a trunk.
Cut glass and hard.
Just the very tops
Spikes to the floor.
Hang back down.
And once in ten
Years to the day.
They bloom.
Crystal flowers.
The closest mirror
Of nature
That we can remember.

Sorry We Missed You

The letter just said
‘To live’
No sender.
Or return address.
Years later
Another arrived.
It just said
‘Try harder
To live, my friend’
And so they carried on.
Asking more,
Yet more of me.
Till I gave all I had.
To life,
As it passed.
Until the final
Breath escaped. 
Fluttering the letters
To the floor.
Where they lie
To this day.
No stamps cover them.
Because they
Never had been