Lay by the Shore

Let the waves roll around your head

Let the sand shift beneath you

Molding new forms

And the ocean sing songs

Through the throats of gulls

While grain by grain

Your body disolves

Back into the beaches

And your mind flies through the skies

Dropping back into the earth

The Human Condition

Walking on into a field

Where blood has been spilt

Soldiers have bayoneted one another

Bullets have teared and ripped skin

Lances have pierced and run down many men

Horses have trampled faces into the ground

Swords have butchered flesh

Cannons have spread body parts into beautiful artworks

Dogs have feasted upon terrified foxes

Young women have bled here in painful solitude

Men have cut themselves raw

Shell shock

Bombs

Gas

Hysterical laughter

Graveyards

Screams

Maggots

Angels and demons

The bible

The grass is red, so, so red

The Devil is here

And he has been fed

 

Suicidal Fantasy

I grab a chair from the kitchen

Moving it to the centre of the room

Where a noose hangs from the ceiling

I learnt the hangman’s knot

From the scouts

One of the only things I could do right

 

I stood up on the chair

And looked around my living room

So dark, so empty

There’s no substance

Empty pots, dirty plates

There’s no living here

The window shows me

The bleak landcsape of the moors

Lifeless, dead trees

Grey skies

Carcasses of sheep

 

I look through the noose

 

A land of sharp, green grass

Vibrant, powerful colours

Flowers of the rainbow

Pure white skies

Bustling wildlife, birds of paradise

Singing sweet songs of euphoria

 

I kick the chair

 

My neck doesn’t break

 

So I guess I’ll just have to wait

The two worlds merge together

Like broken clips of film

Till I’ve lost all distinction between the two

Out of focus, blurry

The pixels dislodge and fly off

In all directions

Losing colour as they fizzle out

Fading into a harmonious white

My body breaks up

Melting into the white fabric

I see bits of memory float away

Dreams, reality, nothing..

 

Hit by a Train

I’m so lonely

It bites at me like a dog, gnawing at my

Bones

Threatening to take me

Piece by piece

My soul needs to touch hers

I need to be grounded

I want to float

But she is my paper weight

The one that shows me reason

When what I want is madness

 

My obsessions get worse

But my affections grow stronger

I gently think

Then I’m hit by a train

God is the driver

She jumps in front of me

To save me

We’re both goners

Crabfishing

When we were young my brother and I crabfished

Along a great big stone wall

That blocked off a pond

From flowing with the river

On the end of our weighted crab lines

A chunk of fleshy mackerel

The smell was strong

So strong

We couldn’t think of anything else

We walked alongside the edge of the wall

Dropping our lines, letting them unroll

Till it hit the bottom

Of the pond

 

We didn’t have to wait long

The crabs were very hungry today

We could feel the weight of our lines

And guess quite accurately

How many crabs there were

 

One crab was okay

Two crabs, better

Three crabs, wow, quite a clump

Four crabs, How do they manage to all stay on like that?!

Five crabs and you’re a crabfisher god

 

We brought extra large sized buckets

With fresh water from the pond

So that the crabs had plenty of space to

breathe and maneuver

 

We could watch them for hours at a time

Different sized crabs

Two varities of colour

Green and orange underbellies

With a thick brown armour

Claws as big (or in some cases, bigger) than their bodies

All clamouring over eachother

Occasionally fighting for space

Breathing angry bubbles

 

When it got too cramped

Or if they were in there too long

We released them into an area

Where the others wouldn’t get to them

 

The other children made me question life

From a very early age

They’d catch crab after crab

Squeezing them all into a tiny little bucket

I feel sorry for the ones that were rammed in first

 

They had no way of breathing, or moving for that matter

All the while being crushed by the weight

Of crabs on top of them

 

When the bucket was full to the brim

The children

Emptied the buckets across the concrete wall

To find more than half were corpses

They were feasted on by seagulls

Broken open

Their bodies exposed to the sun

 

The lucky (or unlucky) crabs

That fled into the water

Were only to be caught again

By other children exacting the same process

 

The children, smiling without a care

Without remorse

Whinging to their parents

That they were bored and wanted to go home

The parents, unaffected

Held their childs hands

Walking away

 

 

 

 

Inspiration in the eyes of many

He rushes over the wall

Into the woodlands

Fully dressed in his rehab atire

Sunglasses masking his face

His chains still attached

 

His mind is only set on the

Pain

The attachment

The addiction

The deep, black, gaping hole that is

ever growing

Punching out all thoughts of optimism

 

His daughter, forgotten

His wife’s words stinging his mind

His friends, against him

His mum, ashamed

The thorns provoking his clammy white skin

Are no where near as painful as this

Tearing off chunks

Of what is left

Of his skinny frame

 

He is there

At the end

A garden shack

 

A heroin kit with his name on it

Followed by a shotgun, straight from above

His favourite cigerettes lie on the table

It’s as if an angel has bestowed gifts

In order to ease his passing

 

He smoked his last drag

in order to calm his mind

Cooked his heroin

Injected

 

 

Floated… Floating…

To the caves…

 

Full of sounds and smells…

So many kinds of smells…

Far away from people….

 

His subconscious slowly, gently lifted the shotgun

To the back of his mouth

Thoughts drifting like clouds

Time slowing down

Dribbling on the barrel

He pulled the trigger

 

 

Floating….

 

Far away from-uh p-people…

 

To-uh a cave-er full-oh of so…sou-und…smells…