Early Verses

It’s unlikely I will post here for quite some time (if ever again) because all of the practice and hard work on this blog had culminated in my debut, self-published poetry collection.

The old master, exhausted, cold Arose from his crouched position And strode over to the chair which held his robe Yet no sooner had he worn it and warmed his shivering shoulders He had to remove it, to face a new challenger Such was his burden, such was his blight As master of the secrets of the mountain He had to greet every newcomer whether with a drink or a fight. / With charisma and wit, he introduced himself, offered a seat and a cup. The visitor remained standing, dripping rainwater, boots thick with mud. The old master grimaced, Clearly, no beverage would satisfy, unless it was laced with his own blood. He stood and readied his stance So accustomed to this routine, it felt more comfortable than it perhaps should. / So their battle began. / This visitor boasted accuracy, grace and rage Indeed he attacked with fury yet did not lack smoothness of footwork or a high guard to protect his face Antiques in the temple - smashed Window shutters - cracked Skin and bones - blistered and bruised. / They went on for hours as the rainwater became dew, The sun became the moon became the sun again The clouds cried themselves out of existence. Blood was shed. The old master alive, the visitor - dead. / Needless to say the old master, exhausted, cold. Once again reached for his robe. Yet as hands curled to grab the cotton Another visitor had called to demand his attention. 26/12/2017

The body doesn’t lie;

lying is an ability possessed only by the mind.

Vocal chords, alone, can employ such a skill to distract and mislead

But the tongue, fingers, eyes and lips

Do not know how to use such tricks.

/

So as your mind races against the elapsing time

Between my last utterance and your turn to speak

Whatever you say to make this easier for yourself

Is not the truth, no, it is a trick.

/

These excuses are cute.  

They are not strong, not convincing and not resolute.

You can say that you are unsure, that you don’t know what to do

That this has a simple solution, namely, that I should forget about you

But your fingers linger just a second too long

Yes, you return the touch as my hands run along your arm

Every opportunity that there is to be close

You reciprocate with weight, warmth and longing.

Your hesitation is premeditated

Yet I have no confidence that a crime is forthcoming.   

/

So please take as much time as you need

To perform this mental literacy

I’ll wait until you learn that the body doesn’t lie

And it has already decided my affection is perfect, pure and fine.

Calm-Neuf

I’ve spent all night thinking about you

You’re projected onto the inside of my eyelids

So sleep only enters me into a vision

Rather than closing me from the visible,

made manifest is the invisible!

That being my burgeoning affection for you.

/

I see you more clearly than my fingers and thumb held

at arm's length in my pitch black bedroom.

I feel you more keenly than the covers draped around my hips

Thanks to the heaviness of my chest

My laboured breaths, my dry lips & now, suddenly

uncomfortable warm

Feel as though I should undress

But body pressed to blanket, cold, oppressive

Is the realisation that this 75% cotton is not your skin.

/

Get out of my head and into my bed, hand on phone wants to say

Yet I do not want to scare you away

As I do not want you to think sex is what dictates my fervour

Though of course it plays a role…

I want to wrap and roll, my arms around you

Feel your breath on my neck, your lips on my chest

As you talk directly to my heart and say “yes, yes, yes”

To every single question I have not asked yet.

/

I am still thinking about you and writing this has not helped.

I still feel only cotton and my heavy breaths are still yet to be echoed.

Calm-Neuf

“It was an accident-”

Rainfall interrupts the thought

Alongside pen scrawls and clapping feet

as other pupils write and invigilators prowl.

/ 

He couldn’t focus on the task at hand.

“It was an accident”

He tried to write again but nerves made him cough

So he grabbed an eraser and rubbed it across

Everything he had written since minute hand

had lapped his self-imposed mark of:

You should have finished this part by now!

 /

The rainfall wouldn’t stop and everyone else must

be so far ahead of him by now and no matter what

he wrote he couldn’t overcome:

“It was an accident-”

 /

His hand shoots up, footsteps quicken

A single pen scrawl behind his ears stops

as an elderly man leans in close to ask:

“What do you want?”

“I need to use the toilet”

“Ok come with me”

The man motions to another and together

they leave the room.

“How is it going?” He asks without looking down

“Not bad,” the boy lied as he ran his fingers along the wall.

They continued in silence until reaching the bathroom

The boy entered alone as he ran the tap

and finally, the sound of rainfall stopped

He listened to the water he controlled as he

splashed water upon his face and spat into the bowl

“You can do this,” he muttered before returning with

confidence renewed

Calm-Neuf

You ever see a dog with its favourite ball?

Teeth clasped tight like a hand forming fist

Nasty spit sprawls like veins around knuckle

Dog bites so hard, ball is brought to life,

pulsing with the spasms and thuds of 

an excited heart 

A strange contrast to the joyful glint in its eyes

Pupils roll with such delight you see not coloured

iris but the egg whites 

Tail wags so hard air is forced to dance 

Much like Pied Pipper whose pipe plays

songs of snarls and white noise.

/

You know the image but what do you see?

Simple creature enjoying simple things

Or another creature enjoying the pleasure 

in the fight

That fights for pleasure, that fights to live life.

Calm-Neuf

He couldn’t stop from falling on the train

Legs firm but flimsy hands flailed at formless air

It was a rough landing 

The thud caused others to stare 

at this foolhardy gentleman 

Who believed hands in pockets and a thoughtful gaze 

Were ample protection against sudden 

turns, breaks and sways

He quickly arose and rejected hands to help

Straightening his shirt until he again looked 

ready to present 

An outfit he had prepared for strangers

who did not care 

The fall, it seemed, did little to remind

That one shouldn’t be preoccupied with 

superficial designs

Calm-Neuf

“10080 minutes” spoke the clock

As the nought shifted up from a nine

He did as he was instructed 

Walked a lap around the room

Drank water, had food

Before sitting down and pretending 

to answer calls. 

/

“10080 minutes” the clock spoke once more

However he had lost count 

of how many weeks he’d spent alone

Nevertheless he got to work as he had

been paid to do

This experiment had made him grim

but promised great wealth once he had seen it through

Is a man capable of dreams if he is denied sleep?

Can a dreamless man have a future without 

sleep to separate the present from the past

and days from weeks?

/

“10080 minutes” the clock would say for the final time

The man was chipper as he worked his 9 to 5 

According to the camera, he was still alone 

However he spoke aloud as though other people

filled the room.

He no longer pretended to answer the phone 

Driven mad he heard the ring and spoke to a friend

invented entirely by him! 

Calm-Neuf

Come if you have courage

If you have the intelligence, wit and might

The dedication to face hours of monotonous pain

Calloused knuckles, bent nose, shattered eye sockets 

Eye sockets starved of eyes 

/

They call him the G.O.A.T:

The Greatest of All Times

There will be no republic 

as he is dictator for life 

No not life but all lives 

His reign is endless as before him

there was no greatest

Only great and greater indeed there was 

no test such as that faced by his challengers

/

Come if you have courage 

If you have ignorance and self-directed spite

For even in victory you can never be:

The Greatest of All Times 

Calm-Neuf

Carried inside the hearse

Was little more than air

It was not a day for the dead

So its innards lay bare

How closely an undertakers hearse 

Resembles a magicians box 

One might wonder if insanity 

or desperate hope

Ever inspired one of the drivers to

load the back with bodies & chop it into sectors

Spin the car in a circle and knock three times

To see if the dead might rise

13/09/2017

What is your intention 

when pursuing a novel idea?

Is it another furlough into a series of distractions

or a yearning to create something new?

Calm-Neuf

Our machines have failed us:

Medicine nor mortars provided the cure

As a beast rose among the many

Consuming many till we numbered few 

Vampire, fiend, Diabolus and monster 

Just a selection of words to describe the bloodsucker 

That stalks London’s streets circa 2026

Calm-Neuf

In strong, open arms 

No need to be afraid 

The hair of manhood locks

with your prepubescent locks 

Forearms thick like tree trunks

Your spindly limbs more like twigs 

encouraging you to rest upon the bark

So rest upon the bark

Sleep.

Calm-Neuf

Credit is in the creation 

Due praise for due diligence

Hours tick into sales as numbers

change from one unit of measurement to another. 

Making of raw matter something intelligible, sensuous,

emotive or confessional

Making emotional matter into money.

/

Credit is in the creation

Scuffed shoes and embarrassed coughs 

Few noises but the human body

And spilt sounds from headphone exposition

Making of raw matter something intelligible, sensuous,

emotive or confessional

Making emotional matter, matter.

Calm-Neuf

When walking, trainers cup the cracks

Fixing temporarily what has snapped 

The concrete split like so many seams in crumpled paper

Litter like autumnal leaves 

Rain stained brickwork, acid leaves its kiss 

Across the bridge, a swamp sits beneath

Yet somehow, miraculously, ducks can be seen

Unbothered that what should be blue is green

They live; it’s as simple as it seems.

Calm-Neuf

Punch me, pinch me, kick me,

Does it mean that we’re in love?

When we were children, nervous stomach 

would cause twitches in my arms

I’d push you into puddles and catch you afterwards

because no one knows love like a child.

/

So punch me, pinch me, kick me,

So I know that we are in love

Don't stare silently at the TV

and end every message with a full stop

Don’t tell me that we need to talk

Only to talk about dinner, who is doing the washing? 

Whose turn to pay for the weekly shopping?

Who is working hardest to maintain this facade?

How can we be so childish without being childishly in love? 

Calm-Neuf