love

This is a personal piece, which I am not going to explain in detail other than to say in strong and trusted friendships you never see money only the soul and sometimes a soul needs to break through the cloud cover and fly.

Three Notes For Atlas

A gold hand oils wheels
lavishes itself in the face of the earth.

Weighted steps pile in green Aztec pyramids
laid to outdo the smiles of Mr and Mrs Jones.

Time again for Lazarus’ annual birth where the
past knits us, reminds us of the muddy field through

night and day.
Indifferent to the weight and Mrs Jones brushed smiles
I play three notes from my pocket
watch Atlas transform to an eagle
to soar
and frolic
in the evening laughter.

There is always a desire to belong and perhaps as we get older it comes more to the forefront, particularly since it gets much harder if you have not already found your place.

Half. Half of a whole. Optimism and Pessimism. The following pretty much says where I stand.

Half

The end is not complete
perhaps not keenly grown
or the roots were
cut.

Maybe it is meant to chance
until discovered
by accident in eyes cross the room

until then
there are no flowers in the pot.

If there is one thing I will at least do right and not miss, it will be death. When it comes to affairs of the heart, someone somewhere seems to continually fuck with the clock and it always ends in a missed opportunity. The following is a raw expression.

One Minute Too Late

She was here,
Smile bright as the flutter of a heart
burst in a rainbow upon a face.
Breathless I ran
past ache and limbs of acid
Stumbled and fell.
I became a ghost on the platform
Lost in the crowded double faced space,
the shadow of hands,
Swore never to run again.

An expression of something a simple for change with no esoteric meaning. This is inspired by seeing and spending some time with my eight year old nephews last night.

Nephews

Feathers lifted to the sky
fly for a brief moment
Erupt in delight
become taller than I.

Feet returned they sparkle
“One day I will lift you!”
to young to realise
They already do.

One of life's ironies, how we can sometimes excel in the things we don't want to while we fail miserably in the ones we do wish for.

The Alchemist

Bars stack into a pharaoh’s steps
still the flames flicker burn throughout the night.

The tied brow heaves one more piece of lead
Not for gold nor mint

but the birth of Love.

I'm not in the best of moods at the moment due to work worries. However, that is no reason not to write something.

I am inspired by a couple of seconds I witnessed a couple of weeks ago although the following completely misses my original intention.

Not everything we produce is good, nor should it be, sometimes you have to get through a lot of chaff before you get to the grain.

You should always keep everything you write, see nothing as a failure only as an exploration to be used rather than discarded and thrown in the bin.

Fear is an intriguing quality it can paralyse, cloud judgement, instil a great sense of being uncomfortable and fuel adrenaline for flight or fight, if you can sieze it and forge it into a weapon.

Fear is often fleeting, a brief moment that is soon over but true fear never is, it lurks and challenges you to knock it down until one day it fails to get up.

The following is about a true fear although it might not be evident unless you can decipher the last line, which is the key.

There are times where you are reminded that money is simply an oil, which greases the wheels of everyday life. The more you have the easier life is but it does not make a life, only furnishes it.

My Sister recently got married and returning to my suite at Ettington Park Hotel the old reminder made itself known.

A doodle on the everlasting demon, which despite being staked from time to time just keeps on getting back up.

Fear

A maiden is heroin.
Approval hooked under the skin
and through the eyes
Something tugs in anticipation.

Powdered lines lace the air
rise the belly to tangle words
project them like ping pong balls
into a glass box.

Humbled to a fool
the face has become the back.

Love is destructive and confining as it is creative and liberating. Anyone who feeds you negativity, which you accept does not love you, they own you and as hard as it is you must break free before your will is ground out of you.

At the weekend, I was called to help my Aunt off the floor. She is elderly, eighteen stone and trapped in a relationship, which will in no uncertain terms kill her and has been in it's own way for decades.