Tuesday, July 7, 2009

First Service.

Love started with a smell and sight
a lingering light
and fancy
a tomorrow that might have come
rather than the today
we had to have.

And in the beginning I said
I can't Love yet
(though I did)
I still felt the Old Love's cruel fingers
twisting in me
and I still felt judged by my own esteem
and how could I be ready
I lacked ability
and I had not the Earth
from which to view
her night sky
and all the darkened mysteries
that lay sleeping within.

And even these false and fragile fingers
these olde word charms
failed me then, their fear dulling a simple Truth
that here was another chance
to make fresh milk
from my udderly dried
and sagging

(In Hell, you see, all is magnified
a bad day birthing
a morose wimper
anger to armageddon
grief to suicide
heartache to
comedy to tragedy
and alone you are doomed
to live
your charmed life
callously tossing aside your
health and
the meaning of your friends
with it...)

and came
and spent
we lay crying
together or apart
it no longer seemed to matter
it was the same
and in shame
I hid my head
on the couch or spare bed
of any soul who was bored
or lonely
or generous
enough to listen to me
for a night
for Pride still claws
my skin
and in
these moods I would catch myself
and reeling the pity in
I could resonate with
those around me.

Enough about me
I could say
followed by
You Talk
or Sure I'll Have One
Excuse Me Sir - The Walls Are Melting
And I Just Thanked
The Toilet
Because The Mushrooms
You Gave Me
Are Really Working Now...

(and Love won't know
or listen
but I could feel it then
a tiny needle
amongst the Hey
of my pals
but I could not fight the
they had me
they had me
and I knew it was ten hours to go
until they stopped
and it was all I could do
to ride them out)

Wild Horses
Caramel Witches
Trees with Sheep and Dogs
a Golden Aztec Statue
Two Tight Friendships
(concern-worry-decay-colours-blood on the walls-fight it-fight it-embrace it or die)
The Absolute
of False Sight
Hiding in the Real Warmth
of a Ginger Jacket Godfather
and then
as the sun rose
hearing yourself come back to Earth
and talking of Love
and 'No-One Else'
and is there still a tomorrow?


You lost Tomorrow
last night
sometime around 8pm
and no matter
how fast you run
you may never
catch it again.


you sit
on another cross road
and you know
the reality
bad choices, wild acts, how easily you are distracted
and you try to balance it out
close friends, a true heart, reaching out
but you tumble all the same
finding emo
in a dark corner
alone in a pub
where you had hoped to find
a Tuesday friend
but instead
you found
The Tuesday

Love began
- you see -
with milk and honey
and china doll white
and inevitably ended in

It just felt
-you see-

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