The Cliff

When you lie across from me,
eyes staring into nothing
you remind me of a lonely tree
hanging on a cliff face
Frail and beautiful
you still rejoice in the sun
Your Leaves open like tiny lights
and make the gash a smile
your home your curse your strength
Alone
you live at the height but see the depth

Then you weakly smile,
and shift your body stare at the ceiling
to wish your cliff away
for good soil
for a wooded clearing
it must get boring staring into the abyss
On the Precipice where everything matters
no ebullient growth on this slippery slope
where the ground moves under your grip
and the merest breeze could cause a slip
Awareness is a curse when you cannot move

But you blossom with hope
as the wind shakes your limbs
crying white petals into the yawning void
falls like healing rain
filling it with yourself

You explain in halting words
chiseled into your granite cliff
And I see only a fearful pain
which I exhaust myself to plaster
like an illiterate editor
I miss the words which say
""
I'm just terrified you'll fall.

Vice

Saying no to one thing
is yes to another
Towards art, towards the soul
resolve to say what i mean when I mean it
can feel its fingers on my shoulder too tight
I don't need a parent (says the child)
Responsible and uncaring
I need the air from her lips,
the lightness of her meadow
my how the time passes
suddenly I am old -
and I still feel the clammy vice
twisting my movement towards itself
like a bird on a shortening wire
my struggles bring me closer

Now I break the wire, shed my skin
leave them holding nothing
Not too old yet -
I can still see -
and write about that which is important
Not commuters anymore
- they are souls suited to the neverchange
the habitual, souls without the need for flight -
not that they would turn it down
but whatever I seek above
they find just here
on the 07:18 to Liverpool Street

Incline

Take a chance to do nothing
no prospect of reward this way,
no easy retirement
(re-tire all over again)
no picket fence - pick it,
picketing lines of idleness
Such a negative word idle
I dull but not so
perhaps to stop
and collect my breath
pause indefinitely on this slope
I would realize life's incline
- do I incline? - vertical or nothing
to the stars
the greenery of the straight up
No ceilings only walls
a horizon of walls
and the sky.

Tunnels

Its getting stuck somewhere
Inside my brain,
lost amongst the tunnels.
Tunnelling through tunnels
it is either a beast in flight
of a plant seeking the light
but either way
there is no gravity here
and no predators either
but fear in a hole
with desire

I hope realising this
will open my skull
smoke out the weak rats with a fire

But now the fat rats devour
my grasses and eat the seeds of hope
(I hope when they shit
there is something alive)
But so the lesson goes:
Now the rats kept on munching
till there was nothing left crunching
and then died a slow painful death
I hope the layer of rat
is less than 6 inches
for the sake of the smell
and the seeds.

Swivel

Display learning
use a vocabulary
look people in the eye
firm handshake
Black coffee hold the sugar
- Now I want it -
Salmon suits you
hides the sweat
Swivel chaired motherfucker

Take your suit off
Stand in front of a mirror
look Yourself in the eye
stop touching yourself
take a deep breath
really now, stop
hold your gaze
and think about what you're doing
think
think
think
I know you won't look away
your not the "quitting" type
its a point of pride
your wife will attest
having long since
watched the inside of you die
(without noticing -
she's dead as well I'm afraid)


If you can still walk out the door
as easy as before
hold your head up high
and look at the world around you
there's someone out there who needs your attention.