I see my mother
Creviced of face,
Old of limb,
Hard of bone
Walking with a
Gait which suggests
Burden
Has wracked her back
Her presence
Which taught
Discipline
And respect
And integrity
And I see
Others
With their mothers
And I am moved
To tell them
Of the greatness which exists
In my home
And
Crevice of face,
old of bone,
hard of limb,
you still stand with unbreakable dignity
resting deep on your shoulders
originally written 01/06/2011
expression
Its like my soul
Is being forced
Through my body
Into my fingers
It is a purity of emotion
A visceral
Natural response
Which can not be stifled
of all the creatures in this world
which can be contained
the mind is an animal
fit for no cage
28/05/09
84. South London
Malevolence seeps from ever inch of these bricks
which soak in the harsh cold rain, and streams down plate glass
like the tears streaming down the black girls
face at the bus stop as she reads texts
informing her from a considerate friend that her man is as
loyal as a rat in a sinking ship
the cars fill each of these roads
as though all the drivers read Exodus that morning and decided
they were in need of salvation
the smell of petrol and chicken and chips fills the air
and the ground is littered with packages.
those smells seep through your skin and
Drowns into your blood stream
Mixing you with the fire of the land,
South London take you over
Like a slow acting virus
Your symptoms will kick in slow
and you will be the walking wounded before you
ever realised you were in need of a cure
04/10/09
54. London
Moonlight reflects off cracked pavements
and crack dealers
hidden clouds walk these streets
lunar love sets bricks alight
in nocturnal flames
lunar love sets roads to glisten
like glaciers
and smog blankets all,
not choking like the environmentalists insist
but dressing this sleek girl
in a dirty dress
cars fly by like jealous onlookers
their bright lights fusing into the dark ether
with the other lights from shops and street lamps
dirty angels floating like apples in a stream
this is my blind date
no fancy restaurant or a visit to the theatre for her
we jump straight to the business
I breathe in dirty, smoky air
and I admire her peaks and valleys
I can watch this girl for hours,
and when she talks back
she screams and whistles, and yells and moans, and groans, and shouts and purrs,
quite the conversationalist
if she was an assortment of colours
she would be the most lucid rainbow ever
if she was music
it would be the greatest music in the history of music
if she was poetry
she would be too ineffable for words
I know because I just tried
10/08/09
30. The sun
His demented rays, boil
This already dark skin
And forces the water in my skin
in a mass exodus,
oh what heat!
Oh what misery exists within that point of
Apocalypse-fire
And what power! speeding since time immemorial,
since that singularity collapsed
And unleashed all
brutal indecisive rage, arrogant
At knowing, His purity
In being
The ultimate of necessary evils
His future locked in a
Staggering hubris of self immolation
Of bright violence in a vacuum,
A stellar coitus, his offspring are born from his dying loins
A soundless explosion
Shaking the chair of God
Desolate yet omniscient,
pure-life-force
we wait in a subdued horror
compelled by His
obliteration
The Tiger
Deep clawed, suffocated in testosterone
Tiger penetrates the dust
With his cocksure walk, his curled teeth
Bared to the sun burnt world,
impetuous, arrogant
Stalwart in presence
He parts all company with the ease
of Moses parting water
This is his land
This world turns on his fulcrum of desire
The sea crashes outwards in fear
the sun shies from shining
the moon resents appearing
the ground retracts shakily
his body soaks in heat
energising his
meat fed frame to tear through the
arthritic from fear
bones of his prey
his rage ploughs through the savannah
in crippling roars
only the mountains can drown out these war cries
it humiliates the birds and the sloths
who watch on with
jealous
melting hearts
and down turned pitiful eyes
aware that a single swipe from
those cast iron limbs
could tear
beak from heart
with the ease of tearing
a flower from the ground
for tiger, the wet iron taste of blood
on his teeth is as normal for him
as watching
the rain hit the ground
29/09/09
I rediscovered Ted Hughes a few years back and was drawn to foreboding world view on animals. Here is the first of several pieces I wrote on the subject
51. The Moth
Time suffocates in the humidity of the room
The sun shines and the rain clings helplessly to steamed windows,
Moth remains in solitary silence,
He watches
He takes in breaths
He soaks in the heat
And when night comes
He makes darkness his home
Blanketed in fears he awaits
I stare with malevolent intent
And his wings are rigid,
Like the armour of a tank,
Hiding his crisp body
The ghouls painted on his grey/black wings
Stare back with scorn,
This king of black thoughts (and poisoned infections)
Curses my sleep,
And he remains,
poised in sinister silence,
occupying his own throne
the corner of my room,
Arrogantly biding his time
until he leaves
To toy with someone else
06/08/09
rojaslionas 