Friday 23 November 2012

BTB


Bed Time Blockbuster

  Dominic Brooks

“I can’t do this”
“What do you mean?”
“Any of this”
“I don’t understand”
“You can’t”
“So why are you telling me?”
“Because I haven’t even told you , because I know this is imagination”
“What are you talking about, your scaring me”
“I’m Sorry”
“Are you?”
“I’m not sure”
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I would never”
“And whys that?”
“I’m scared”
“You always are”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s not hard to see”
“And what happens if I cry?”
“Nothing”
“But why?”
“You know why”
“But everyone does”
“Everyone is not you”
“It includes me”
“It doesn’t define you”
“Should I want to?”
“Should you what?”
“Feel afraid?”
“Can you stop it?”
“Can’t you?”
“No”
“If I stop- if I can stop it, will you support me?”
“I would support you to the ends of the earth and back again”
“Do you love me?”
“Up to the moon and back down again”
“Good night mum”
“Good night sweat heart, I love you”
“I love you to, whens dad home?”
“I’ll send him up when he’s back, OK”
“OK”
And she blows me a goodnight kiss.


                                                                                              

Wednesday 21 November 2012

"No"

Its weird because i dont know how to talk to
 you, when inside my head words are all i seem to 
know.

A smokey silence, 
and the sound, or lack of, bells. 
i hear those sirens though. 

Where one sleeps at night
you only dream of two. 
the lack of it here fills this room. 

Even god wants not dreams, 
and inclined to agree 
i shall hang my head in shame. 

Happiness:
Something that life is for 
Life:
Something defined by your happiness 
You: 
Simply Forget. 

Bright eyes on each of the four, 
i sit cross legged on the floor. 
"This is my life man" 
and this is my wife. 

Sunken through sleep, 
the light burns through the sheet. 
Waking up to an unexpected arrival. 

It's nigh-on winter now, 
whilst I knock back three
last time for me, for the last time. 

A horse is dead, 
an alligator fed, 
Smell christmas this morning
and rejoice...


...we are innately happy now.


Friday 7 September 2012

Is That Just My Ego Talking? Or Is That My Friends?

My ego is in charge,
But never in control,
Of those two other forces,
That call my head home.
Ones quite introverted
The other is simple just not.
And the me in-between
Remains, not forgot.
But Ignored by these two counter parts
Who pay the third no heed.
One interpretation of this will listen
And the other two won't.
because I'm just not a weed...

Dove Love

One day a dove flew down to sit with blue birds upon a tree.
It sat in the middle of them all shining brilliantly.
The dove then followed the blue birds every were they might go,
the blue birds did not mind the extra company.
the blue birds began to circle where they flew,
same trees, same wires never anything new.
Same gates and houses.
And the dove followed along,
it knew no better, never sang its own song.
Until one day it saw another dove
atop a roof it had never seen
And so took wing to where the other dove sat, sat and was his queen
Sitting contently for some time the doves sat in silence,
apart from the rest.
Finally the other dove burst into motion a flew away suddenly.
Abandoned by the one who had been such inspiration
the dove blankly sat
for some time until the realisation occurred....
that much like herself the other dove had also discovered something new.

Thump Thump

Thump thump,
Tingling arms and thriving wrists.
At night, the ringing begins.
Thump thump,
A squeaking noise is heard
And the knot ties a little tighter tonight.
Thump thump,
Suddenly curled up In a ball.
Another sleepless dream.
Thump thump,
The seconds are now hours.
Nothing changes the fact there is no break in down stairs.
Thump thump
The darkness rises
veins cry out in agony.
Until it slips, an dark turns into light.
Thump thump,
Thump, thump
Thump. Thump.

Charlie

Charlie and the Irish man came to my house
arriving and asking for music,
So we sat and played for some time.
Until Charlie left

Phenylalanine

Walk on past the old street,
Beyond the stone courtyard,
The road eroding quietly
Becomes my daily path.

Couches, floors an sleeping mats
Make my bed tonight,
A different place a different light,
For my eyes to close to,
Complete me with the serenade,
Voices from the box,
Lights flash from front,
and then from back,
Until my head is off

Phones begin to speak to me,
from within the machine.
Who's at what end of what line,
which line do you defend.
With time I'll try and send again,
but noises stop the feed.
The message stops when winds on top.
Which line do you defend.