Wednesday, 3 August 2016

Jagged Street

This poem is deeply indebted to multiple Nick Cave moments (That's right, his genius doesn't just write lyrics, it writes moments) X


Down on the corner, her smoky eyes
And parted lips measures up their size.
Shampoo fresh hair, dyed deep black,
All mystery blown, floats down her back.

'I'm not interested in things that have been,
More what memory selects and cracks in between.'
Her face comes to him from deep within depths,
All outward motion leads to stillness.

Presses his face to the glass a while,
Dreams of seeing her, that crooked smile.
Smile it for me one more time,
I'm aimless without you.

"Its been a while" he'd say.
"You've changed" she'd say.
"We're all changing" he'd say.
"Nothing changes" she'd say.

He stands at a dish-filled kitchen sink,
Soapy water thoughts take him to the brink
Of a stained white-flagged, bittersweet surrender.
"It was wrong, was it?" 
Nonetheless rendered
A widower of that sweet mystery,
Without a past, but with history.

Nostalgia




Today, I sit myself down to write,
Now with the benefit of hindsight.


This isn't about things, more things now missed,
Of a youth now traveled, you get the gist.

Utopian dreams and irresponsibility,
Binge-living and loving and a fragile sense of ease. 

A wonderlust kiss, lacklustre mornings,
Exhausted, inebriated awe-drenched evenings.

Seeking thunder while lightning chased,
Youth's ideals and an awkward grace.

The orbit of a soul lighting the room,
Smokes rolled out of existential vacuum.

Whiskey-soaked nights, euphoric days,
Preaching equality through hungover haze.


Opening up to politics where music is life,
Credit card lunch, arbitrary theft of the knife.

Dancing round the living room and spontaneity,
Thinking we were something, believing in possibility.

Today I sit myself down to write,
The tunnel I'm in is frantic with light.

Vinegar-soaked, chip paper memory melt,
Of dreams, revelations and the way we once felt.

How we saw ourselves and the world we're living in,
But this is nostalgia, it dances under the skin.