Poetry
By lavadis
Time to share
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- 2408 reads
Our friendship died today
the stubbled hegemony of your stench transporting me back to the time when were still able to drown out the static and sleep
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- 2886 reads
A year before I became a high wire trapeze artist
A year before I became a high wire trapeze artist and a year and two days before the whole, every bone in the body broken, coma thing
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- 2898 reads
Atom by atom
it is as if you are being disseminated atom by atom like the febrile mist rising from a battlefield
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- 6556 reads
I knew she was corruptible
I knew she was corruptible I just didn't know how
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- 2071 reads
Tortuously delicate embraces
It had been less than two weeks since he had slammed down his pint showering me in coruscating petals
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- 1383 reads
Why do you fear me?
if you had not been way-laid by the memory of a face of insufferable beauty
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- 715 reads
I am met at the crossroads by a horse of dangerous beauty
It is not the horse I fear, nor the crossroads, nor the rare beauty of the moment, but that she will never return and gone she will be lost to all but memory and words.
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- 2502 reads
Our garden is full of pornography
you are another blade of grass so much less than the little men that stow away in its branches in nests lined with simplicity and impossible laughter
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- 972 reads
Love in a time of riots
Shards of broken glass fell upon your shoulders And into your hoodie Like glistening amethysts Flecked in their reflected hearts With the blood orange glint
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- 4129 reads
Love in a time of hope
know that with every ounce of strength and spirit I have and however lost I might be I will always find my way back to your side where my piece of the jigsaw fits
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- 1715 reads
Korn
I had intended to book Korn Korn are an American nu metal band unfortunately I booked Corn Corn are a Hungarian brother and sister duo who single medieval agrarian folk couplets
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- 4 comments
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- 2262 reads
On the night when you threw and I ducked
my keys on the kitchen table beside the dent from the frying pan on the night when you threw and I ducked
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- 3539 reads
When he pulled the telephone out of the wall and slammed it into the filing cabinet
When he pulled the telephone out of the wall and slammed it into the filing cabinet an inch from my left ear I asked him why he thought it was acceptable to humiliate me so publicly
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- 1934 reads
Dirty little footprints
I must not dig any deeper for fear of where the footprints might lead
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Killing little England
We are the benefactor and the begging bowl the mountain and the avalanche
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- 10 comments
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- 4011 reads
The gods of violence
we are the fury and the verisimilitude but we are prisoners trapped in a one bedroom Council flat on the 34th floor of a tower block in Kennington and we can never leave
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- 1071 reads
You are the last of them
I went to you and I held you in my arms and gave you my heat, would have given you my blood I did not realize how could I have betrayed you to the cold?
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- 2402 reads
You terrify me
There is a coarseness to your languor and sometimes a certain slant within you words which coils around my throat like a serpent without a face
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- 1551 reads
Tiny threats
You brush the tiny threats from my shoulders and find new places for me to hide
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- 3536 reads
Of rain and of shadow
She was made of shadow and I of rain and neither of us were worth saving
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- 2200 reads
Humbled by darkness
So I called it nothing and that became its name
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- 8107 reads
The business of war
You had seen active service in Korea and your eyes drank cruelty from the veins of thieves
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- 1429 reads
I am running
to touch that extra second as the miles pile high and cruel upon my ruined chest
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- 5 comments
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- 1765 reads
This is a place of turpitude
It began to rain, tiny waterbound crotchets
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- 1426 reads
Insert coin and squeeze
there is face powder on the lapels of her blue jacket and in it there are tiny footprints that spiral upwards towards her throat.
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- 16 comments
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- 4182 reads
You are killing our fish
stolen the teal petals of air with which they gilded their lair and plunged them in to beer brown stillness
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- 2349 reads
The recipe for making bees
She wore an Alcatraz orange skirt sullied grey by predators
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- 4 comments
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- 1827 reads
Four reasons to fear love
buried up to my neck in the husks of a billion taciturn stares
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- 12 comments
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- 3819 reads
One Direction
the taste reminds me of my music teacher's endless, porcelain fingers
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- 18 comments
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- 5592 reads
My name is Destroy
the saloon bar was a seething caldron of contorted proboscis and antennae
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- 3 comments
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- 1251 reads
You will not age well
as if love was a quantitative thing like a group of pensioners huddled under a rain blasted shelter on the promenade in Eastbourne
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- 6 comments
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- 2090 reads
The tear collector
You plucked the tears from my cheeks with a pair of entomologist's tweezers
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- 3 comments
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- 1280 reads
The day before the day before you died
Such random acts of attempted murder were considered to be character building in those days
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- 5624 reads
Her eyes belonged to infinity
Her voice was grey green like the bruises the rain leaves on a forest floor
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- 12200 reads
I have come here for your name
She had a half completed tattoo of a rose on her cheek which was red raw.
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- 8 comments
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- 2684 reads
Attack Monkey
I am an an attack monkey There is no end to me I am both wretched and feted I have only kicks and punches My epitaph is worthless graffiti It is a...
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- 937 reads
Her 64th boyfriend
I was her 64th boyfriend they came and went like heads of corn in a thresher terrifying in their insignificance so now she was keeping count She...
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- 7813 reads
Other trains
Her voice was like the Siberian air masses which chill the eastern slopes of the Urals She worked the tables in the kind of bar which claims to be in...
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- 4 comments
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- 1693 reads
My mother was a cyclops
My mother was a cyclops which made her hard to love she had the patina of humanity but the hues of light and darkness which billowed and susurrated...
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- 1732 reads
The beekeeper of Manhattan
It was 7.38am when the beekeeper's right eyelid shot open like a parasol snatched up into the maw of a hurricane The eye consumed the interior of the...
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- 1212 reads
She had not aged well
She had not aged well flora and fauna grew within the rift valleys below her eyes and a legion of tiny ailerons dragged the corners of her mouth into...
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- 4164 reads
A mouse in a world of cats
Today I did not sit at my desk in the office, crying in a violent and catastrophic manner, losing all emotional regulation. I did not smash anything...
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- 1804 reads
Doubt is my mistress
Doubt is my mistress she has taught me to trust my enemies and despise my friends she lies with me in bed at night squeezed tight under the billowing...
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- 9668 reads
Her eyes became the future
She was 6ft 7 and did not know what to do with it when we lay in the bathtub together in her apartment on afternoons when the bar work was slow her...
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- 2049 reads
Where people only go to work and from which they come away again at night
He threw his newspaper and seasick green rucksack on to the station concourse, grabbed the knot of my tie and slapped me across the face with an open...
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- 1017 reads
Her father was a thunderstorm
The years rained down on her like a child's spiteful playground punches. She was brutalised by the time in which she lived, a time, when those who...
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- 927 reads
The Whale Cafe
This is the cafe in the park where the whales come for breakfast, between the hours of 8 and 9.45am. It is waitresss service only and each whale has...
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- 5922 reads
I have an imaginary daughter
I have an imaginary daughter whose age is as malleable as the particulates of frost which freckle the eyelashes of snowshoe hares ‘Don’t stay out too...
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- 6006 reads
Tangerine static
Butterfly kisses of frost
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- 15 comments
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- 7339 reads
The duplicity of witches
For my 35th birthday we lay in the shed at the bottom of the garden of our two by two amongst a cornucopia of rusting metallurgy. You wore your...
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- 736 reads
The pig nest
There is a pig nest horse eye violet and threaded with wool and steel in the upper branches of the lurching night willow The pig nest is invisible,...
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- 2114 reads
Everyone remembers everything eventually
Our first encounter was as moon slugs slavering through the glass tilth of the regolith, confined to parallel trajectories the earth sun baking the...
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- 8 comments
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- 3412 reads
American Diaspora
On the drunken filigree of midnight, some time between 1987 and 1997 (a decade I have disembowelled and entombed) whilst one-shoe shuffling beside a...
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- 10 comments
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- 4530 reads
Mars
'I am going to live on Mars’ she told me, schoolgirl shoe-scuffing at the planished patina of our marriage ‘I am to become a Cosmonaut describing a...
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- 5624 reads
The emergency bassoonist
The emergency bassoonist sits in his huddle-flat on the frayed edge of functioning cradling his telephone in his crumpled lap, waiting. With each...
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- 2113 reads
A naked boulevardian
This where the fire engineer lives, in an elastic bedsit in the interstices between Beaujolais and Thunderbird the tactical skin wince-flexing around...
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- 922 reads
All the lost places
I moved the bed last night and found you underneath, reading. ‘Don’t mind me’ you said, making a blissful violence with your mouth ‘I am neither...
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- 17 comments
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- 6483 reads
Iriecat
First garden tremble on kiss soft paddy paws to spine shake yawls I held you, I hold you your father You circle chased a squirrel, roared with joy on...
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- 6563 reads
Sandcastle
I live in a giant sandcastle which is conveniently positioned for schools, shops and other local amenities There are no other giant sandcastles in my...
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- 4 comments
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- 1110 reads
The highwayman
When summer’s fingers next caress the nascent earth I will become a highwayman, weaving a great dappled stallion between the tailback of camper-vans...
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- 3 comments
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- 897 reads
The ghost king
He didn’t believe in himself. In his own existence. He did not believe in the existence of the other ghosts either, whose numbers were legion, which...
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- 6 comments
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- 1214 reads
Old
This is a different kind of old. Not observed in the street scuttle scrambling on to a bus or shivering under a mountain of blankets in a wardened...
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- 8 comments
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- 2415 reads
The bridge of Sante Fe
Behind a dirty sunset near the bridge of Sante Fe she sat alone clutching her passport in a hand that had waved and punched and pointed She left...
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- 1988 reads
Even in peacetime no one can dream
On that day the valley was flayed raw by sunlight It was shortly after a truce had been declared between Winter and Spring Children were in the...
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- 809 reads
Muscle memory
My father never went away he just became a yesterday he told me people swing the bat he wasn't willing to do that his father taught him to be free...
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- 3093 reads
Sea swimmer
Plunging blind into the brutal ether jagged, tangential all-consuming and caressing a cold I cannot describe swimming in the direction of emptiness...
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- 469 reads
A different way to measure time
When I arrived in the park, the autumn leaves had formed an auburn duvet on my usual bench. Moments after I had begun sketching tree skeletons in...
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- 962 reads
A series of horses decreasing in size
My parents had at least three children it’s difficult to put a final number on it one of them was me the others were not My childhood was punctuated...
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- 14 comments
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- 1068 reads