Author Archives

by

unbridled s’thing

he crumpled mad co-ordinates,
(imprinted DNA’s corrupt,
flaws everything)

no allowance made for zero’s
disembodied influence

on form
yet wyrd

cat smelled of rain, washed his
paws of the crash about to
never happen

this time
yet

by

in-difference

alternative title : mary’s earth

talking to the wind started it:
the fall and risk of rib on
mountains bleeding holy hell
while numbers screamed
irrational but unavoidable delay

magpies gather on the sunstone
chatter into sameness
compare smoke ‘n’ mirrors’
masquerade, perfectly united

by

swallow (2)

lips moistened with fine rain kiss
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;

i’m inside the storm, a swallow
of unfinished rhythm
spitting feathers at an empty page

re-vision 3 – thank you mojave!

i’m inside the storm
a swallow

spitting feathers at an empty page
ready to tear down the sky
chase clouds;

lips moistened with fine rain.
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;

i want to kiss you. now.



image: francesca dimond

by

thinking of you

mist swam between dark trees
a silver shawl unraveling

to float, turn seamless moments
into thought, unwind like steam

in wheel arches, round in silent
ground we go; are you here

to see hawk wings
heave across this windscreen

a rainbow perched impossibly
above us?

by

bliss

in full glide, she saw my gaze, accepted it;
her perfect stillness and surrender to
the drift of slipstream’s tongue mirrored
rapture just before the climax

your breath such sweet caress, love

sunlight curled around my arm, smoothflow
wing touch brought me into perfect
stillness and a raven’s eye; i saw her gaze,
accepted it, shared rapture just before …

by

swallow

this morning’s heartraw, an exquisite echo of desire;
birds and leaves tumble in the wind,
gusting, whirling, mad dreams all but breaking
in the heave, the violence of air;

part of me is jousting with the clouds,
the rest a swallow of unfinished rhythm
choked on winter’s pressing need
to turn the savage wheel : my hands are tied to it;

precious little mercy to be gained from what-ifs
silent gulls crusade in freeflow
they know how to ask for more than sky;
self destruction’s teasing lips moistened with fine rain

by

dog day’s end

blankets round their limbs to hasten
drowning soaked up
rolling clouds’ reflective mood,
gathered weight from
the curl of deepest bloodflow,

hovered on the sprawl of night
cold loss drifting
towards muddy gaze, water’s
flight through airspun lungs;
hush, though the radar’s deaf down here

by

thyme wasted 

her emails stopped            suddenly
prosaic mystery gives everything 
away                      before lunch

i was insulted by the warning bells
but that was nothing to
my loss of appetite in the noise
                                of hers

by

aarrgghh …

there have been some changes here and i seem to have lost links to gorgeous others and to individual poems by name …. not sure if i can reinstate these though i think they’re all still in here …. help??

love to you all
S

by

lunarchy

just another life in the spotlight
of a perfect honey moon
hardwired for dreamers
tripping craters, finding space

in the fold of intuition’s veil,
every headache stunning
psychic flair until
there’s only hope between

two dusty satellites and starry
smiles criss-crossing time
among the pills and potions’
promise of a rise

by

law wrenchian

everything’s been paid
that last invoice suspended …

blame the gintrap in your mind if you like
or the way that others stick between
eye-will and teeth on icy edge

some people were not suited for the moonlight
while you, that you, are dangerous all the time

by

concurrent

due to total absence of muse *sigh – i’m still plugging away at this one – here’s the latest revision …

it never was like that, more

how smooth river slid around her waist
steadying impressive rush

thigh to wing

while she, courting swell and web,
caressed supernatural

feathers

penned immortality, downed throaty
groan, kick and scream alive

float in thrash and foam

not so much inhuman as beyond her
old man’s tired shallows


previous re-write, not in stone – just hoping for some clarity …

It never was like that, more

how the river slid around pale waist
steadying impressive rush

wing to thigh

while she, courting swell and web,
caressed supernatural

feathers in such dreaming

extravagantly white, sky-wild on her.

Not so much inhuman
as beyond

an old man’s comprehension.

by

currently …

i’m sorry, i’ve had cold after cold and now another one .. eerrgghh! am exhausted, please forgive … anyhow try this … it may be rubbish, but i’ve always admired something about Leda and you have to admit, swans are gorgeous lol ….

Leda’s popping dreams and bubbles of restraint;
she’s close, by water’s choice, to the wild charisma,
how he makes her kick-and-scream alive,
feathers in her throaty groan
and god, the perfect catch, between pale thighs.

That old man would claim her later, unaware
of how the river’s thrash and foam
taunted willow, cloning sorrow’s
spineless grace – a net to snare more misery
then gloat about misfortune’s violation

of her nature, clutching, biting moss for more
of that, so deep inside the catacombs of sleep.

by

lifed:out

Dolly tempted waiter-boys in Marbella,
even after being swallowed by the
pavement yawning into sunny space
between her latest mark and broken bones.

Reeling in the compensation, she had learned
a trick or two in army camp where
Zyclon-B was not for her, no way; whatever
must – when girthed so beautifully desperate.

by

cliff hangin’

The clown of thorns and I made lofty peace;
sunblind quarrels tripped at first rock base,
fell flat in the sand below a dozen barefoot years.
We shared flowers, then, impossible and bright,
gleaned endurance from the rocks,
wondered at the spines of life and our tenacity.

Clearing space for the gulls to scream
was knife-edge easy, way up there.

The horizon’s salty line stayed silent though
we tried to make room for that too.
Perhaps I was distracted, pushed it away
for sweeping curve of wing and wave.
Perhaps I loved so gently in the trysty gorse
that time was saved for ours and now.

by

cabin talk

Let’s push time outside the rain,
it can play instead with that
howling cat who won’t
be silenced, give us chance
to dare this chaos, climbing walls.

It’s been dark all day and though
breathing’s harsh in fever,
passion’s got the upper hand
set on magic while the other traces
hip and brow with steamy earth.

Clock’s ticking, buried in the golden
leaves, let’s not hear it bleating
order, not just yet or ever,
there’s a ceiling to traverse leading
to the sky in wayward gasp.

by

unsure

Feral dreams blur moon at last;
zero, clinging to her dark
will say nothing now about these
hours, grinding slowly and
ungiven in the slide of gravity.

Night rattles dry-leaf bones and
foxes pick at unread love
songs tumbled in among cold
cuts, half-smoked cigarettes
and over cooked spaghetti.

“oh really and what now”
………………… she-writhes

by

frontera 

tonight i will             get very red
 spill your name                   like wine
on scented oil           moon-soaked
fingertips outline                  where
this time soon           another
 we’ll be dreaming              life
                                    is shining
by

the always

the always ^^ podcast by Shell

recorded for Cendrine, if she returns … i think she’ll like this …

i send you
nothing
less
than angels
to embrace
you, love, as you
cry and reach for me
in dreams

i give you
nothing
but
the always
that i promise
time and time again

in my palm a small ocean
is now home to tiny
silver dolphins
that dance your
soulheartname
of love upon
my cheek

and i am
the songs they sing
of you

by

Z …

Z … read (red?) by Shell

Your alphabet concludes with z while
mine is just beginning, taking off
into symbolic realm where there are
no fences, safety nets or comfort
cloned to tame and shame emotion’s rite.

No, I will not even try to breathe your
language grinding jealous fear and
ownership which may, at any time, be
sold or skinned from bone in battle.

Instead, i’ll fly beyond poor limits, you
will fail to find my open sky where
z is just a bat-snack in a quantum mist.

Bruises fade and when you pull that bitter
splinter from pale heart you’ll find no
scars to mourn, no trail of tears to show
i’d ever been there to disturb your night.

by

podcastings!

i don’t know if i’ve done this properly but it’s as right as i can fathom for now! down below is a link that seems to work; i’ve put all 3 recordings on there … i’ll use podcast for readings from now on if that’s ok .. still need to use right click for a separate window (or back) if you wish to comment … *baffled by all this techno stuff …

by

billet doux

billet doux read by Shell

You never read these kisses but keep them anyway;
unwrapped every now and then – to amuse
the passers-by and their dogs who chase my words
balled up in string – they unwind even in the dim
before disintegration vents wild succulence apart.

You cannot, will not, see my kisses smile away
their weight and wasted time – but hush,
the dogs are happy, that’s enough for now,
their tongues and tails are wagging for the moon.

by

sound offer

omg – i just recorded two poems for you to listen to, if you’d like to hear my wonky voice *grin .. no rehearsals, just as is … i’m using sound upload for now as i’m still in shock that i did this.

it’s a bit of a clonky process and you’ll need to click back to here after listening or do that “open in new tab” thing …

if you have comments would you put them here?

i don’t intend to use sound upload as a place to talk though there is a comment box there … it’s just a temporary place!

sooo, i’ve tried light entertainment & unnameable

by

nothings #9

For a while I was an angel’s confidante. It took time for me to undress names like angel-slut. Peel truth from jealous lie. Choose the side I winged for. I did it though it was forespoken. Like the end.

Now and everynow, I come to you, beloved. I wear nothing.

Now and everynow. I bare only you.

by

icarese …

Behind a screen, ultraviolet
penetrated only pale exposure,

could not reach her world beyond
dark glass where destruction
retained meaning
and secrets did not spider
across wall or ceiling.
Still, she would not talk of them,

how their brush-tip regularity
repelled sleep, made waking cruel.

Days crawled, rest-less, marked
only by feint sun-blind myths
less brutal than real life.
Beyond shivers no-one penetrated
hers, where love retains shy meaning.
Still, she cannot speak of this.

by

unnameable …

unnameable read by Shell

in a deliciously strange way this poem was inspired by gingatao’s post on art and passion. you can find it here …


So come on, Lord, give it to me
tempest style, hips ’n’ ravens
flying fast and furious.
I know you like bravado style,
full-on performance art,
flames and magic twirling
wheat ‘n’ chaff all-ways;
still, it took us all to shaft
that one, didn’t it?

Not so easy meat that one,
there are problems with duality
and gifts like that, well,
let’s just say it’s lucky that all
artists crave extinction.
So come on, Lord, give it to me.

What are you thinking now,
right this haloed moment?
Maybe we could do it over latte?

by

physicalia

this body’s vein-laced
pressure rises, fails
to hold rebellious breath
in protective custody,
snaps vain gravity

this time’s a-conscious
waiting stage in-venting,
you know, all that
done it, scene it stuff

humour’s vital drum
ribs pliant form,
nerveraw thrills intensify

then touch

like

this…

by

stab in the dark

claw spreads flaw, bound reason’s wide,
considered wisdom’s primal choice
is still to burn, despise her will.

you didn’t understand the “no”
or care “what else” – flicked aside
soft words unheard,
poured acid on “it’s up to her”
displaced your tone with fake-it awe

that Mars has water still but old;
worn out, yes, but dark-age metal
is your way to fire her up.

a possible edit of this poem:

Despising will, blind metal offers
dark-age fire to burn bad earth,
torch my zero, start again.

Soft “no, what else” is put aside;
condescending acid drips
on non-compliance bound and wide.

So what if Mars has water still?
Your fake-it awe suggests he learned
what i will not about your way.

by

nothings #7

On the wall a shimmer hints of motion, teases still. Scarlet woman then but sanguine now, i splice acquiescent moon – to hang your shadow, maybe, in the empty space. All those missing moments, shades that clouded night, they are suspended now – aimless and immobile. In epicentric heave a lightning snap delivers life from death. Motion soothes an ache of time so my back is still against the wall.