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Scribbles with a guitar

I can feel the pulse set in my
arm
disarming my head
from thoughts, to sleep

Upon this makeshift pillow
I’m wondering
what secrets you hold but keep.

Cold truths bed down here
beside me
behind you, so it seems

you just seem to have forgotten
truly you’ve forgotten
where it is safe for them to be.

And I can hear you laughing, laughing and
dancing in the street.
I hear the beautiful burst of tomorrow
throbbing in your feet

Know that I’m charmed to know it’s your daytime
your time to take the day
as I lie
looking at your secrets

The cosy
tucked up little secrets
that you left right here

next to me.

I miss you – not like lingering
kisses and skin, touching skin

Like thunder

Rolling thunder

And today she cracks the whip

Play the Ground.

I’m out of step
He’s a cock sure bastard, hazard
me a guess
Is it his greasy lightning
frightening the kiddies in
their beds?
And he gets lazy
Walks amongst all those distant
Dreams
Laughing at strangers, howling
because they don’t
Want to see him drawing
hopscotch with my
heart.
And now there’s nothing left to do but to depart.

The day

Stirring
learning a new day in an empty bed
Eyes close again to see
your face lace my pillow
skin on skin
I smell your scent

Closed eyes bring cruelty
and I, knowing full well that you
are nothing but past tense, open
them wide and find a cold, empty
space.

Down the stairs for coffee and
We are with me again.
It’s this brain, you see.
Relentless. Heartless.

Mine. Singing with living ghosts.

The phone rings and it is not you
but I smile through as I
remember the laughter that
once flowed in this same
place

Catching sight of my own
reflection, pulling back

Forward

Time to pretend the day away

Just again, like all the rest.

Beauty isn’t always pretty

You’re sucking at my consciousness
like all those nights that we
spent
laying under stars

and I’m thinking about old
movies
reliving lyrics of songs that might
soothe me
the type that make you feel
that you were born, too late

Why do I think in foreign?
Begone, bewitched, forgotten
be alone and home to sleep
the night, awake

Freedom

Do that thing again
Smoke fills the room and I am
Watching you
Like a tiger – taking down its prey
with effortless skill

Panache

That’s the baby.
You glitter in triumph and I am nothing
but astounded by the kill
as you stand free of phobias old and
Face fears, new

Who knew banishment could behold such beauty?

Breathe in the exhilaration

I have nothing left to contemplate
I know what to do

Goodnight Seamus Heaney

Just heard about the death of the wonderful Poet, Seamus Heaney. Loved his beautiful words…they’ll live forever. If you have never read his works, I urge you to look him up.
Rest in peace old man…what a life.

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