Traces # 2

There are pieces of you in the places you aren’t,
Trinkets,
And traces remain;
A mark that you left on the table downstairs,
A stray hairs, a bracelet,
A stain.

Like an artefact meant for some museum scene,
The bed's been
Perfectly preserved,
I’ve not had the nerve to disturb the old sheets,
That clung
To your skin and its curves.

Bottles of hair products, two pairs of stockings,
An oversized
Pink hooded top,
A fist full of letters all shredded and torn,
And a handful of
Bloody old cloths.

May 2008

Your feet in the air like a gymnast prepared

For some intricate trick to be seen,

The audience gasps and their pastel blue masks

Make their way through the room to your knees,

The ringmaster moves to make better his view,

In his hand; something silver and smooth;

Something magpies would fly towards,

Would swoop down and fight for;

Something clinical, kindly and cruel.

The instrument slides through your thighs to the home

Of a lump of ingrown skin and bone,

The ringmaster’s team start to creep into life,

Moving silently, smoothly and slow,

A trickle of blood and the ringmaster’s glove

Shines with rosy red rubies and studs,

Your eyes, terrified, verify with my own

What’s begun, what’s been done, and we know

With your feet in the air like a gymnast prepared,

We’ve been thrown, and to where? We don’t know,

With your feet in the air and my hand in your hair,

We've been thrown where we don't want to go.

I. E. P

No more will I call you My Lady, My Love,
No more will I call you My Dear,
And no more will I call you My Hunny, My Blood,
For no more are you anywhere near.

Tumbledown Tumbleweed

The universe moves,
And the moon is removed,
And the sun hits the grease on the glass,
The curtains burn up,
And its curtains for us,
It’s been swell, well we‘ve both had a blast.

Almost sadly I‘m sure
That we cannot endure
Morning’s savage attack any more,
The linoleum sticks
To the skin of our backs,
We’ve been melted and moored to the floor.

Tumbleweed stars
Start to tumble down hard,
And we’re hit by a bloodhoney light,
The salt at the sides
Of your eyes starts to shine,
In a moment we’ll spark and ignite.

You’re lit up like a witch on trial,
I’m lit up like Guy Fawkes,
I’m lit like a new years eve,
In London or New York,
We’re lit up like an H bomb,
We are hydrogen, we’re heat,
We are the fundamental elements
Of something obsolete.

Everybody Wants Me

The policemen, the police girls,
Lieutenants, sergeants, constables,
They want me.
They all want me.
Every bailiff, every jailor,
Every chronic masturbator,
They want me.
They all want me.
All the judges, all the jurors,
All the world’s TV reporters,
Every daily publication,
Every rag in circulation,
Oh they want me.
They all want me.

My doctors, psychoanalysts,
Zoo keepers, anthropologists,
They want me.
They all want me.
Every expert in biology,
Specialist in criminology,
They want me.
They all want me.
Middle England’s middle aged,
Suburban housewives want to play,
They pulverise their undervalued
Vulvas twice a day,
Oh they want me.
They all want me.

I am the Scarlet Pimpernel,
I’m Robin Hood. I’m William Tell,
Everybody wants me.

All the zombies, all the non-bes,
Princesses, parasites,
They want me.
They all want me.
Every butcher’s hook, baptismal font,
Fair trader and tomb raider,
They want me.
They all want me.
Every horse drawn Duke and Duchess,
Every horse jawed Lord and Lady,
Every Karma Sutra reader,
Executioner and queen
Oh they want me.
They all want me.

I am the Scarlet Pimpernel,
I’m Robin Hood, Oh bloody hell!
Everybody wants me…

......But I...... Be Long......
......To You......

Host.

.
Onwards and Upwards and Inwards I go,
Onwards and Up to the innards I Own,
I Want what I see and I Want what I cant,
And I’ll go through the Cunt to get close to the Heart.

Entice me. Entrap me.
Enslave me. I'm slain,
Engulf me. Enclose me.
Encase me again.
The bloody red mess
At the top of your legs,
Is my warmth, is my home,
Is my goose feathered nest.

So Onwards and Upwards and Inwards I go,
Onwards and Up through the innards I Own,
I Want what I see and I’ll Hunt what I cant,
I’ll start at the knees and I’ll Cleave you apart.

And all for that red lump
Of muscle and blood,
All for that red chunk
Of sinew and tissue,
That four chambered thing is the thing I need most:
I’m in love with it’s heat,
I’m in love with it’s host.

So onwards and Upwards and Inwards I go,
Onwards and Up to the innards I Own,
I Want what I see and I Want what I cant,
And I’ll go through the Cunt to get close to the Heart.
.

Let's Get Fucked and Fornicate.

Our pretty little planet’s getting harder to inhabit,
Roughly seven billion people want to eat and fuck like rabbits,

Oh well oh well,
Oh well oh well,

And our rock is over heating and our ice caps are retreating,
And our chubby little munchkin protégés are overeating,

Oh well oh well,
Oh well oh well,

Well don’t you worry Hunny,
Call it Pot Luck, call it Fate,
Don’t you worry hunny
- Lets get Fucked and Fornicate.

Some foreign correspondent tells me half the world’s at war,
I take a look up from my daily and I take a look outdoors,

Oh well oh well,
Oh well oh well,

Terrorist insurgencies, a medical emergency,
Someone else has spotted Elvis in the town of Tennessee,

Oh well oh well,
Oh well oh well,

Oh don’t you worry Hunny,
Call it God’s Will, call it Fate,
Don’t you worry hunny
- Lets get Fucked and Fornicate.

We run around the sun at nearly nineteen miles a second,
That’s pretty close to sixty
Seven thousand miles and hour.
And in amongst this mess and chaos I can hear my bedroom beckon,
With my favourite type of liquor,
And your favourite type of flower.

So don’t you worry hunny,
Call it Pot Luck, call it fate,
No don’t you worry hunny
- Lets get fucked and fornicate.

Poor Old Saul

There’s a crack in his cough,
His oesophagus rattles,
There is blood on the back his tongue.
He crackles like fireworks,
Every time his insides
Are relaunched from the pit of his lungs.
With a sickly thick wet sounding guttural click,
His gullet erupts once again,
With a vicious and violent convulsion he tries,
To expel what his chest can’t contain.

Four wheels beneath him,
Each creak as they move,
Back and forth from the force of his fits.
He clenches his fists,
And he readies his ribs,
To contort once more, crumple and twist.
The minuets, the moments, the movements between,
Are his glaciers, his galaxies,
He is king from the seat of his mobilised throne,
‘Til his blood starts to bubble and squeak.

A whip crack, a cough,
His oesophagus rattles,
The blood hit’s the back of his teeth,
It slips to his tongue,
And his lips start to part,
To expel what his corpse can excrete.

T. G.

Where you aren’t’s
Where I cant
Wait to be.
Ceaselessly, secretly,
Greedily, gleefully,
Where you aren’t’s
Where I cant
Wait to be.

I earnestly yearn to be,
Honestly want to be,
Solemnly long to be,
Anywhere else.

I truthfully move to be
Ruthlessly cruel:
Where you aren’t’s
Where I cant
Wait to be.

I Love You. Say Thank You.

I more than like the way the whites
Of you eyes can ignite,
And start the spark that sparks the start
Of sparks of life and light,

I’m more than keen on how you feel,
And how you feel on me,
I love you

Say thank you.

I’m more than pleased with how your mouth
And lips have vowed to sign
A contract contracting contact
With mine and only mine,

I’m more than fond of what I see
In you when you’re on me...
I love you

Say thank you.

Monkey Rash No.2

My eyeballs have been eyeballing
Almost every girl in sight,
Trying to penetrate their petty coats,
And sneak a peek inside,
I got an itch I cannot scratch,
Some monkey rash upon my back,
I got a need that cant be seen to,
And an apatite to match.

I got a hunger in my stomach,
And a thunder in my veins,
I am a thirsty man with thirsts that can
Be hard to entertain;
On meat and sweetly scented flesh,
I feed, I feast, I gorge,
And if you let me sink my teeth in
I’ll eat blood and bone and all.

Well sure I'm animal, I’m mammal, I am man:
A carnivore, a killer and a whore.
I am the animal and mammal that I am:
A carnivore, a killer wanting more…

Throw your body down below me,
Spread your awkward little legs,
Let me go down like the sun
On the horizon of your dress.
Let me suck up what I’m stuck up,
Let me feed on what I need,
Let me kiss, caress and carve my name
In blood between your knees.

Hurl your girlish frame below me,
Lift your awkward little limbs,
Let me tear myself a sweet fistfull
Of flesh and let me in.
Let me suck on what I’m stuck on,
Let me descend and devour,
Let me dine upon your fine white
Milky skin until it’s sour.

Well sure, I'm animal, I’m mammal, I am man:
A carnivore a killer and a whore.
I am the animal and mammal that I am:
A carnivore, a killer wanting more…

Give a kiss I’ll say I like you,
Drop your dress I’ll say I want you,
Kick your knickers off I’ll drop down
On one knee and say I need you.
I’m not keen on what I am,
Or what I do or what I’ve done,
But the Devil swapped my morals
For a sick and silver tongue.

So I'm the animal, the mammal that I am;
The Carnivore, The Killer and The Whore,
And though I’m mammal and more animal than man,
I'm a literary genius I’m sure.

Atlanta

.
And it’s tragic.
The kitchen gets wetter the longer you’re gone.
I keep thinking of you and overpouring hot water,
Overfilling my tea,
I haven’t made a decent cup in months
Or so it seems.
.
And the nights are no better.
I find myself folding up sheets in my sleep,
Holding them tight,
Making out that they’re you,
Moulding them into the shapes that you make…

Britain’s worst sculptor: Revealed.
.

Jack Done Jumpthumpin

Jackrabbits inhabit his
Hammering cavity,
Thumping their paws
On his rib cage walls:

Thump.Thump.
Thump.

Jackhammers are slamming his
Pulmonary artery,
Smashing the walls
Of his ventricles:

Thump.Thump.
Thump.

Jack o lantern eyes
Burn, blaze and bleed
In venomous reds
And emerald greens:

Thump.Thump.
Thump.

Jack stands, Jack’s hands
On his gun, he’ll find
And kill the cunt
That fucked his wife:

Thump.Thump.Thump.

Jack storms to the door of his
Enemy’s dwelling and
Calls for the cunt to come
Take his stand:

Thump.Thump.
Thump.

Jack counts, five four,

And his rival draws
Fires on three
Jacky hits the floor:

Thump. Thump.
Thump.

Jack counts two one
And his rival comes
And the smug faced cunt
Takes aim once more:

Thump.

China's Finest Gymnasts

.
Butterfly collectors
Wait with nets and bated breath,
To catch and keep the contents of my stomach.
I couldn’t tell you how they got there,
But their wings are cracking thunder,
China must be suffering by now.
.
And as you move in they move quicker,
Beating faster, clapping louder,
Until suddenly your mouth moves onto mine.
And like magic the gymnasts inside me fall silent,
And I cling to your lips
For dear life.
.

Traces/Foreign Bottles

There are pieces of you in the places you aren’t,
You can never be arsed
To pack up;
Necklaces, bracelets, underwear and stray hairs,
Lip stick marks on the rims
Of my cups.

Nothing lady like’s graced any part of my house
For what seems like
An ice age or so,
And now suddenly trinkets and traces of life
Have begun to look
strangely at home.

Foreign bottles take over the sides of my shower;
Scented ointments,
And sweet smelling creams,
Your toothpaste appears to be parked next to mine
In the glass
Marked with dirt, grime and steam,

And a set of your clothes somewhere under my bed
In an oversized,
Overnight sack,
Says it's safe to assume that you'll leave when you wake,
But it’s safe to presume
You’ll be back.

Leather Up/Leather Down

Skin on skin
Flesh on flesh
Skin on skin
Flesh on flesh
Lip on whip
Whip on skin
Kiss on whip
Whip again

No place for romance,
Violets or roses.
Violence is red
And bruises are blue
...................Movies.

Leather up
Leather down
Crack on back
Back on down
Lip on heel
Lip on chain
Lip on whip
Whip again

No place for romance,
Violets or roses.
Violence is red
And bruises are blue
...................Movies.

Black and blue
Black and red
Blood on whip
Blood on lends
Crack in film
Crack in film
Crack in film

Movie ends.

Sound of the Sun

The sound of the sun comes in softly,
Through the gaps in the Japanese blinds,
The plastic bamboo rattles slightly,
In the wind as it wonders on by.

Specks of dust that get knocked off fall slowly,
To the ground through the sun coloured stripes,
As it creeps through the gaps in the slats,
Making ladders of lemonade light.

And as the traffic outside hums its theme tune,
With its buzz and irregular beats,
I give memories melodies
I make images hymns,
That get lost in the haze and the heat,

I’ve lost count of the hours I’ve been sat here,
I’ve lost track of time since I moved,
I’ve lost count of the moons, stars and the planets,
That have risen and set on this room.

I’ve lost track of the reasons I’ve stayed here,
Cant account for the smell or the mess
But there’s thirty two holes in the arm of the chair,
Where I’ve stubbed out my old cigarettes.

And as the traffic outside hums its theme tune,
With its buzz and irregular beats,
There’s a bright spark of life,
As the light hit’s the steel
Of a needle that’s down near my feet.

Done Running

Your love’s done running.
You caught up,
And thought that
You taught her
Who’s master.

Your love’s done running.
You grabbed her,
And grappled,
And slapped her,
And dragged her.

Your love’s done running.
She fought back,
She bit back,
She kicked, smacked,
And hit back.

Your love’s done running.
Your head hit,
The concrete,
She’s no need,
To run.

Molly. (Dream sometime 09)

Mother don’t let me sleep.................Mother don’t leave my side.
There’s a yellow haired girl...............I don't want to see
And she’s haunting me.....................That girl tonight.

Mother don’t let me sleep.................Mother come hold me tight.
I’m a fully grown man......................I’m afraid and I’m scared
But I’m begging please.....................And I’m petrified.

Every night I’m awoken
By scratches and cries
And I search through the house
For the source of the noise
And the scratching gets louder
The closer I get
So I go to my knees
And I lower my head
Someone’s frantically panting
Somewhere under my feet
So I tear at the floor
‘Til my finger nails bleed
It’s a woman, I think
It’s a female at least
And she’s screaming and shouting
And yelling her lungs out
I’m smashing and pounding
And wearing my hands down
I’m yanking the planks
And I’m pulling the nails
I’m attacking the ground
As I’m hearing her wail
And finally some part
Of floorboard is free
I rip it up, look down
And looking at me
There’s a yellow haired girl
Dressed in torn dungarees
With a petrified hide
Where her flesh used to be.

Mother don’t let me sleep..................Mother don’t leave my side.
There’s a yellow haired girl................I don’t want to see
And she’s haunting me......................That girl tonight.

Don't even let me............................I'm afraid and I'm scared
Close my eyes.................................And I'm terrified.

I’m a fully grown man.......................Mother
And I’m begging please......................Don’t let
.......................Me.......................Sleep.

Sarah's Reservoir Cheeks

The Sarah I see
is at most just the ghost
of a girl I knew well
and a woman I wont.
She’s got two Neptune eyes
in two cold yellow holes,
a tambourine rattle
and a tin whistle throat.

Sarah is sick
of seeing something I don’t,
sick of waking each day
sick of wishing she wont.
She’s got curtain rail shoulders
and glockenspiel ribs,
four spider leg limbs
and two steel drum hips.

Sarah lies on her side
between two yellow sheets,
She closes her eyes,
and the salt water creeps
from the cracks at the sides
of her two Neptune eyes,
And her tears all collect
in her reservoir cheeks.

Rose

Oh rose,

... ... .you prick.

Sally Anne

Sally Anne hit the jackpot in a second hand bookstore,
A ‘how to’ guide to palm reading and other pseudoscience.
She thanked her lucky stars, thanked the alignment of the planets,
And she emptied out her pockets for that book, she had to have it.

Sally Anne was something of wannabe gypsy,
She had the rags, the rings, long brown ringlets of hair,
She had a face too near to pretty to be easily passed by,
She was something of looker in certain kind of light.

Hey Sally Anne.
She loved her man.
Oh Like only
Sally Anne can.

One thing she never thanked the stars for, something she never really asked for,
Was the lumbering lump of a man she had be lumped with out of chance.
In his sleep he’d drool and dribble, and when it mingled with his stubble,
She’d try her best to take her gaze from his wet sandpaper flesh.

He was no better once he’d woken, he kept his hayday tucked away,
Somewhere beneath all the years of TV repeats, gristle and beers.
Sally Anna was thinking of him as she rode the bus back home
And how he’d frown upon her purchase, “and oh well,” she thought,
“What does he know?”

Hey Sally Anne.
She loved her man.
Oh Like only
Sally Anne can.

She was so engrossed in her new book she nearly missed her stop,
Her nose was so deep in it she was sniffing up the words,
Breathing in the teachings and meaning of the world
According to the author she was beginning to adore.

And when she stepped out of the bus, squeezing between its sliding doors,
She couldn’t bare to tear here eyes from her new bible as she walked.
She almost walked right into lampposts, almost fell over a pram,
She was learning how read her palm and looking at her hand.

Hey Sally Anne.
She loved her man.
Oh Like only
Sally Anne can.

Eventually she had to stop it, she searched her handbag for her key,
The texture of the leather like her husbands swollen skin.
Worn and sagged. All cracked and lined.
But nowhere near as useful as her bag had ever been.

Then Sally Anne walked in and saw him, his eyes gued to the TV
And his arse sat and cemented to his thrown of PVC.
And a curious thing struck her, an idea rang around her head
She took his palm in hers and this is how it read:

The heartline non existent, the headline hardly there,
And you didn’t need his hands to see he'd never had success.
And then our Sally started laughing, laughed so hard she nearly wept,
Because according to the lifeline he had three weeks left at best.

Hey Sally Anne.
She loved her man.
Oh Like only
Sally Anne can.

Hey Sally Anne.
She loved her man.
Oh Like only
Sally Anne can.

Sally Anne's Looks

Solitude's Sounds

This is solitude.
This is its miserable little sound.
The sound of creaking walls and windows
And next door’s squeaking bed.

Its almost silent.
I can hear my mind tick over.
I can hear my cig smoke curling,
And curving through the air.

I hear the light,
Seeping in from stars outside.
And it’s been night,
For as long as I recall.
I hear the whisky in my gullet
Slipping into my insides,
Past my chest
Where your head
Used to rest.

This room used to be
Something else.
Something more.
Something sweet.
I know no one would believe it,
But it used to have a soul...
Until it went from something magic
Into something rank instead.

And it's cold.
All the heaters in the land
Couldn’t warm up my hands.
Its so cold.

We share the house.
Nothing else.
Separate food.
Separate rooms.
You seem to keep away from me
On pain of death or something worse.
It’s so lonely.

I watch as moonlit bits of dust
Dressed in silver cross the room.
Past the mirror.
Past my face.
Past the glass.

These are the marks.
And the signs,
The unremarkable sights.

This is the sound
Of solitude.

Jiminy Cricket

I am the wind that whistles through your hollow bones.
I am the chill that hunts you down when you’re at home.
I am the shiver searching for a spine to climb.
You know I’m everything you feel when you’re alone.

I’m in the smoke that curls around your cigarettes.
I’m in the creases in the sheets upon your bed.
I’m in the places you forget that dirt collects
I’m in the part of you your mirror cant reflect

...................Jiminy Cricket.................
He’s not in at the minute.......................
Never has been.
..........That’s why I’ve.........................
..................Got you now.....................

Every time the curtains move you hear my name.
Every time you hear the wind you fear the same.
I am the image in the corner of your eye,
That’s always hidden by the time you double take.

I am the wind you’re pissing into.
I am the piss on your parade.
I am the shadow hanging over,
Lengthening as you get older.

..........You know it's over........................
....................You know I own ya..............

Monseiur Voyeur

From my window I rule.
The whole world is my opera.
It’s the stage I dictate
Any play that I want.
Every scene I can think of,
Every scene that I seen,
Every act that I’ve dreamt up
Is acted and mapped out
Just for me.

In the palm of my hand
Are the churches, the play parks,
The shopping centres, houses.
I’ve got eyes in every window
Of every pub and every home.
I can see every pint that’s drunk.
I witness every act of love.
That I
Direct.

I’m directing everything From here to where I stand,
I’m directing everything That happens in this land,
For as far as I can see
This place,
Belongs to me:
Monsieur Voyeur.


From the first light at dawn
That creeps up slowly on the sleeping,
To the last light at night
That puts your body back to bed,
Everything
In between
I direct.

So wake up.
Shake your sleep, do your hair,
Brush your teeth, drink some tea,
Grab your keys
And leave the house.

Catch the bus.
Read the daily metro that someone left on the bus seat before you
A missing kid, cosmetic ads,
And another pointless casualty
In a war fought out of sight.
Or you can skip it all,
To the football scores
You decide….
Oh no.
I Decide.

I’m directing everything From here to where I stand,
I’m directing everything That happens in this land,
For as far as I can see
This place,
Belongs to me:
Monsieur Voyeur.


Using Marlborough lights and coffee
I’ll let you break the working day,
Until later on when you can swap
The designated smoking areas
For a newly built beer gardens.
It’s a habit hard to keep,
When its pissing it with rain,
But you’ll manage.
I’ll Make you manage.

And after that,
When you go home,
Where I’ve got eyes
Inside your wardrobes,
In all the cracks in all your doors,
Then I’ll make you take your lovers
And throw them on their backs
So I can watch
What I
Direct.

I’m directing everything From here to where I stand,
I’m directing everything That happens in this land,
For as far as I can see
This place,
Belongs to me:

. . . . . . . . . . . Monsieur Voyeur.

Sorry

I know you could strangle me
Happily
But listen
Please listen

I know you could murder me
Cheerfully
But listen
Please Listen

I’m sorry

Mallard

Keep your Nietzsche stuff your
Socrates between your cheeks
I’ve had enough of philosophical
Debates and niceties
I’ve been coming here for weeks now
For what feels like centuries
Trying to get between your legs
Or get my tongue between your teeth

I’ve used up all my witticisms
All the opinions I prepared
And all the quips and great quotations
That I leaned to say are said
Another night like this you’ll realise
I’m as stupid as a mule
But even then I’ll keep on coming
Because I’m just as stubborn too

And I’m running out of patience
And I am running out of tact
And even though I love to sit around
And chew your puppy fat
I’m running low on conversation
Running out of things to say
We’ve discussed every book I’ve read
(that hardly took up half a day)

“So how about we scrap that coffee
And we head into the sack”
I whisper to her sweetly
And she answers with a slap
It’s like water off a mallard
I smile and she smiles back
Just to let me know there’s hope still
That it’s all part of the act