Sunday, 21 August 2011

i heart tom waits

green rhymes & hazy sundances, playing with fire it's only the slow kids who're gunna get damaged. traffic jammed & there could be worse outcomes thanks to tom waits & his alligator voice. i may be slow moving but at least i have him to show me, take me places, drive me to nebraska or wisconsin or palookaville. you know he's one of those people i would follow to the ends of the earth, someone who nourishes me with his tone, nurtures me with  his sad, sad soul. but you get the feeling tom can take it.
things happen in my head when tom's around. fireworks & wet blankets, hallelujah choruses & blistering sunburn. i want to run through countries to be with him - but i cant because he has turned me into a paraplegic for his love. things happen all over my body when tom's around. nipples prickle, muscles melt, beats quicken & skip. synapses snap. things move in strange directions, tangents down dark alleys following a hooker to her next hook up with the hangman. i follow tom willingly because he has diamonds in his mind. 
my fingers stray downwards when that bad cat's in town.
sirens & virtue & letting myself go are all part & parcel to tom being around.
i heart tom waits.

Wednesday, 17 August 2011

easy prey

it doesn't take much
a touch, a tender breath
for the completely inappropriate
not to matter, and for love,
or something like it
to sit on the worn out sofa,
stroke my hair and tell me
that the underside to everything
is easy prey, so we must press
our bellies together,
show our shells to the world
and edgewise find tomorrow.

Friday, 12 August 2011

but this is no ordinary rapture.

meaning spans mystery but
not far enough,
so we are always left
wondering where truth sits,
and where we do.
meanwhile it doesn't go
unnoticed by either of us
that by living the nomadic
lifestyle you never bore
anybody, but then again
where does it end?

layers cannot cover
what is really needed
which is an unfolding,
an opening to the moment.
we try to patch
our ragged bones,
dem jangling bones
and agree
that the minotaurs will
always be hiding,
but as a fear
and not a threat.

when i am with you
we are plunging the divine,
emersing ourselves in
the sheer white light
of our connection.
then when the rapture comes
and it will come
we will drink with
long and gorgeous thirsts,
throw off our burdens
and dance.

Monday, 8 August 2011

holding on

i taste you
the next day
in my mouth,
feel you on my face
memory scratched
skin to skin,
connections formed
in the heat where
science and chemistry
assist in our passion.

my ovaries call
helping me find
the letting go,
the giving in.
i tell you it's the journey
so you show me
that you can hold on,
and you hold onto me.

Saturday, 6 August 2011


there is something hypnotic in having
a fever, and romantic,
where you want to play with pain thresholds
and already pressed buttons,
want to be bold, hold your body
at its word because in reality
you are not really there
to hear it.

you get taken away
in the heat of the moment that radiates
from your pores, and
which he takes to
make a fire storm of your
every nerve ending.
you clutch him
as if he were the edge
of a sheer clifftop,
with you
the only pirate in sight.

its in the edges
of these things where you are
brave enough to ask for a favour
or a fantasy
to be fulfilled,
to give this pain a meaning
and a memory, melt delusion
into truth to fall for
the sheer pleasure
of it all.