Moving
Leafy bark shredded from punk tree,
Tearing the fibres
Between home and me
Urgent and new, spinning stars,
heady
and needy.
Tabula Rasa; in a new land.
I’ve made this distance
I’ve made the rules
Becoming what I never knew.
Grasping at an old dream,
You know what I mean!
A tornado
The seabed
A new me.
¤
the Seahorse in my head.
The benign cry of my withering Seahorse,
Forlorn, an orchestra in my throat
Bubbling away
beneath.
Today I see little grey
Different from yesterday,
But still my seahorse withers.
Again and again, it tries to track back
Severed by self-contradiction.
When stars stand on stilts
And the seabed is still
all can be slept on;
a palpitating ocean
Darkens dreams.
Still a scion is my seahorse,
hope for redemption
with all that is remorse…
No,
A mirage against my seahorse
Drowning in the coarse desert
Please don’t cry my seahorse,
Please don’t cry,
It will only make you die faster.
¤
Moving, Again
Smiles beam like cadavers,
Hell from Sartre.
North flipped south
In my blood,
Good, I’ll utter
A lie to another,
That might be true.
Flip a coin
and head is blue,
But half is new
The tail end of what has come,
My two halves like a blood kiss
And ochre shavings of what has died.
Noting daily
Their eyes stop sailing,
Learning to read the map.
Again.
¤
a new pair of Breathing Eyes
It shone gold, once as was told,
Least spoke inside, some self-consolation
As soon forgotten as turns ill,
A dying veronica upon the mantle sill,
Other’s veins shine
Morphing into my golden infatuation
Peeling back all that had faded.
Grating away, those eyes that had jaded,
and gently inviting back
the silence,
A new pair,
Of breathing eyes.
A prickly woollen blanket is drawn back,
And all the angst is made to pack
And all that passed
cannot last.
With all this space
All too exciting,
I now can see
The malleability:
With
A new pair
Of breathing eyes.
And they’ll cry “I’m not ready”,
And you’ll whisper
“you can never be”,
Their seahorse in the deep blue sea,
Leafy bark shredded from punk tree,
Tearing the fibres,
Between old and me.
Old
And me.
Words and Image by Owen Gust.