stonepoem : poems & poetry

Stabbed
in the head
and left for dead
the local paper said
that’s what I read
a man without a bed
and on he bled
and I am led
to fear the roads
we tread.

Kicked
in the gut,
punch-drunk cut,
no reason, nothing but
only lowlife in a rut,
no plans and no rebut
and worse than unkind sluts
when doors are shut -
tears are stations
you now rebut.

Carved,
in the street
and left for meat
where cold rats meet
with no retreat,
a man you’d never greet
just stains on concrete now
like miseries you cheat
and fear remains,
beneath my feet.

Sliced,
through his head
cleft and dead
like newsprint screwed and fled -
did you hear what I just said?
This man without a bed,
on and on he bled
and I am led
to dread these roads
we tread.

Frankly I’m impressed
a book deal and induction
new-age world order
inviting him to intersect
with a Hendrix in the wirehex
and frankly I’m impressed.
No, really I’m impressed
the journeys on - inside and out
with difference from the rest
with leaving hive behind
with magic in his step
and all these things
I never guessed
and frankly, yes I am,
impressed.

Scribbling like inky flies
fallen onto barren sand
they are dribbling their grey ice now
draining to souls, pouring thoughts
from the dumb to the numb
and with blessings of the wise
their black milk flows
from the nipples of fools
to mouth-gasping shoals
they’re stealing succour of verse,
curdling the subtleties of words
shitting out their facile turds
and I watch them, circling like flies
turning truths to vacant lies.
It’s hard for me to recognise -
which one of them am I?

Tired
but not too bent -
that’s me.
I don’t want to be old
but I want to be wise,
Don’t care.
I’m creaking
like slowing oak
and sap goes shallow
on its way.
Now I’m speaking
with a growing croak
but I’m unbowed
and not bust -
at least I’m growing,
and thus,
I’m staggering
through the night
with slow moon rush
through clay and mud
to follow though,
to hush
to sallow breaths
of closing eventide.
I wonder now
on puttyfeet,
and part of me
I leave today.

I like this living room you speak of
it reminds me of my own hippy upbringing.
Sundays, when the musicians came by
experimentation was on a grand scale.
and once, there was even a famous Dutchman
jamming with my father grinning like a valley.
I was the young one who knew all the names -
cited influence of Harvest and Charisma artistes
and old heads seemed cool with the youngly wise.
That’s how it felt to me back then, in this music room
trying to stay in tune with the Beardsley wallpaper
waiting by the paintings for his blue-smoke jazz.
I snuck the breath of adulthood before my time,
and now I send it back.

I predict
data vultures
circling
the bones of Nefertari
preening
their wings
cleaning the digital grease
of things
I predict,
and though she danced
she now is bowed
like me
tension tight
tonight
I predict
a dimmed culture
all zero and one
averaged
drones of Neotime
stealing the memes
casting their net
sealing the seams
I predict
yet stay damned
and proud,
like a tomb bound dynasty
teasing stones
magnetized and bright
this night
I predict
the signals lost,
the circuits bent
in wired fog
the snakes are calling me
from carrion crave
and in all their ways,
and in all they say.
I now rebel.

I was reminded to smile more
embrace embraces beyond doubt,
let natural ways be natural ways,
let chance be left to chance.
I was reminded to forget -
the where and when,
the who I may become.
You showed me, I am stone
weathering the way
holding on to the hills,
but rolling time and ills
towards the place we are together now
both puzzled yet proud
without pride nor answer
I was reminded to smile,
once more.

blink blink
can’t write
tonight
and most nights
come to that.
and come to this;
this space
this think now
used up by things
blink blink
and it’s
gone.

Legs
like balistrades
smiles
to smash the barricades
bottle open lips
swaying like a parade.
on will and want hips
she strides
with pendulum eyes
wide as miles
high as
cinders in the fire
throwing kisses
down the wire,
and I for one,
will never
tire.

Brother,
I’m so proud of you.
It was the stuff of legend
all them hearts stopping at once
so funny
and humbling too.
I saw you so,
natural.
holding court
with those strangers,
telling THAT joke.
Oh brother,
you fell
onto the payphone
and I snorted my beer.

You won’t remember me.

I was the one who knew
half your symmetry -
clutching emptiness
in all souls - felt like
connectivity
beyond old biologies.

You won’t thank me.

I took part of you,
made it part of me
rolled up your stories
your worlds of possibility
only later I found
they were all imaginary

I won’t regret.

I became something
we were not before -
remember? Bright embers
blown like pollen,
speckles in the galaxy,
dust in the galleries.

I won’t forget

You were the thing,
you started me
before tired eyes
before wary memories,
and now you remind me.
We were once electricty.

My shoes
feel good today
not like yesterday
softer more natural,
more me.

Yesterday,
my toes felt
pinched,
like they didn’t belong
truth had to be.

Got this feeling now.
I’m living, in the now -
without sum towards
one, and other suns
and maybe some.

Today I love
my shoes -
these are ones
I want to
keep!