I DREW...

I drew a roundabout
And watched ambulances
Drive round and round it -
Feet kicking in the back
Frantic clowns opening the doors.

I drew aquaduct
Upon aquaduct
Upon aquaduct evermore
All leaking
They were all leaking

I was trying to start
The car I couldn't drive
To speed me away from
A storm-dark forest engulfing all horizons
Grey cassette chewed in the stereo.

And it was all my own work
(All linear; unshaded)
The mind can be a terrible canvas
When it knows no contour and
Shows all perspectives at once

I drew bare feet
And walked them over stone
Without looking for any direction
Me just turning the signposts
Round and round
Laughing.

I drew vivid motorways
Of endless concrete desperation
And there were no exits
The horizon
Rolling endless grey distance
Out from itself

I drew a collapsed bridge
With rain whipping
The graffiti on its side wall
Beneath which
We dry with sleepless curled

I drew the dark which
Kept me under itself

______________________________________

Oldbury,
1.55am, 17th April 2012

THE POSITIVE SEED WILL

Up here, somewhere
Is where it is,
Amongst the worries
On all those un-updated lists
And pacified fights.
I'm waiting for a chance
To relight the fires
That we lit long ago

Hope the positive seed will
Overcome this someday
Hope the positive seed will
Overcome this someday

But in finding the flame
Will I fly through the smoke
That choked up and broke up
The plans that I made?
And foolishly
What I thought could last
It was only on sand and glass

It was only on sand and glass
It was only on sand and glass
And tho' I tried and I tried
I was washed out and shattered
Tho' I tried and I tried
I was washed out and shattered again

I hope the positive seed will
Overcome this someday
If there's a positive seed, well
I hope it's flowering someday

__________________________________

As-yet unfinished lyrics to a song from forthcoming solo EP,
Developed from a piece of prose written on New Year's Day 2012.

I DON'T GOT WHAT EVERYBODY ELSE WANTS

Minutes drag their baggage,
Seconds sit at every table of the clock-face

Minutes dump their baggage
In the memory

I parade my uncertainties
Across the ceiling
Of the sleepless bedroom

________________________________________

Oldbury, April 2012

(UNTITLED)

Where there's art - there's hope
There's a harbour for someone's boat.
Tho' I may tug along
And struggle on
The distance of precept
'Til I find that distance doubling back
'Cos these seas they're never sure

But every sea must have a shore.

Life would be much calmer
If you'd just stop feeling.
They'd never break your heart
If you'd just stop beating.

_____________________________________


Oldbury,
Early hours of 16th April 2012

SATURDAY SERVICE

Whoder thought

Under the seats:

Concrete

Unfocaled drifting

Unvocused moving

Through complex

                         empty

Instrumating nothing

But a lone voice

Conspiralled in a vortex

                             of tiredness

                             and sleep

Lane flat out

                on the bed

Weighting for dreams to sinkin

                                        And I'm done.

_____________________________________

Oldbury
6th April 2012, 1.25am

UNTITLED NIGHT POEM

Language is the handle
On the door
But to what room?
And who paints the walls?

I ran into the street
Shouting
'Who has seen my house?!'

But they were all in
                        their own rooms
And it seems
That their doors
                 all have keys

Secrets dark
In biro-black chambers
Of private horror.

One man in his
Derelict arena
Shouting 'This was my stage!'

________________________

Oldbury, April 2012

THE SANDWELL BRAKES

The smiling face of my assassin?

I laughed 'til I was freaked out

I laughed 'til we were scared

Travel is leaning forward

On the Sandwell brakes -

The hometown waves.

In empty boxes

The homecrowd stays.

The shortcut round the circle?

You cradled me 'til I was crying

You cradled me 'til you were asleep

And travel is leaning forward

On the Sandwell brakes -

Abandoned on embankments

The backs of houses

The homing pigeon astray.

What sparkle 

For the dead water in

Black factory canals?

The cancelled paths

And rust-skip rats

From cracked pipes

(I left the debris in the hedge)

 If you've been listening -

Tell me if I've been repeating myself

I said...

Oldbury, 2nd April 2012.