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Ultraviolet

Glistening in the late day break, the last sigh of the westbound sun,
The sky darkens in a battle daily twice won, tremendous light of day the night takes,
Sand shifts beneath the beach, another victim in a war with no victor,
A conflict with no territory or material richer, always expanding in the eternal reach.

The ocean cascades over forgotten prints, washing away long lost dreams,
In the distance someone hears a scream, a lament for the sea cleansing the last of the beach poets,
How many lives as far as the eye can view, them staring up at our foreign land,
Turbulent existence in the time of sands, each cycle of the day life anew.

Echoing ripples fade and ebb, ancient debris dragged forth from times forgotten,
Centuries slumber beaten at the violent bottom, with the tides broken web,
The unforgiving deep keeps secrets never dreamt, crushing swirls who guard forever,
Ensuring safekeeping and are never, to all on the surface, exempt.

Whisking you away into the garden of dusk, there are no sounds here so into the emptiness I hush,
Orchids climb and wrap themselves around upward beams, floating around the eternal foliage almost unseen,
Risking the flora wrath I call out to my love,
Chasing after you I lament is that not enough?

We bathe along the lake of tranquil water, floating in bliss to the inevitable loves slaughter,
Holding in sacred arms the promise of peace, until the water cascades there will be no release,
Our bow is strong, reinforced by sweet greetings after coldness in separation,
Silently the boat cuts through the water, embracing it's inhabitants with their partnered isolation.

o2

Breathing, got to keep breathing.
Another wave toppled atop her again, writhing her body with agony. Knocking precious air from the lungs, depriving the blood once again of all insistent oxygen. She span in the wave, a speck of insignificance in the great blanket of water. Struggling toward the surface, holding onto life.
Eyes open, making out the distant surface, the cruel depth refusing to let her ankle go. She screams, forces herself toward the sweet air.
A small bubble escapes her mouth. It floats upwards with ease and grace, and breaking the surface making no sound at all it roars.
Breathing, got to keep breathing.

Simple truths

A nod over a cry,
The truth over a lie.
A quiver of the lips over a frown,
To kiss lightly the dream away, and in it drown.
To hear your pursed smile whisper my name, for me to bask,
I see your silhouette glide across the room, and thats when you lower your mask.
Open your eyes, look at me,
In my hand, I hold yours.

In Thy Name

Rippling blue, make you mine
Forever there, it'll always make you pine
35,000ft up, give me time

The Broadest Daylight

He sat staring at his hands, it wasn't working.
It meant more to him than most things. Why he whispered, oh why.
Heart filled tears might as well have streamed his face like an ecleptic monsoon.
He cradled the deceased in his arms and mourned during the song of the dead.
Death might call upon him next, such is misery.
Might you pass me three times over, ye hollow grace.
It was simply dead in his hands.
It. Was. Over.

My Many Queens

My cold mistress, climbing my arm and whispering no harm
She embraces me, appearing with flight and icy bite
Her freezing warmth wraps around my fingers
And with seeming stealth, finds a way into my veins
Secreting a passage of haste around the body
The whole time caressing and quietly singing there will be no pain.

Such tender touch, she pushes me away with a blush
Coyly she smiles, knowing it will see her miles
I feel a feverish grin spread permanently across my face
Through blue lips she tells i’ll always be the one she’ll miss
Walking away into the cloud of bygone era smoke
She will turn and blow me a crimson kiss.

With shots fired overhead, she’s priming to explode without a crime
Bodies crumbling, her mine is laid and blood will be paid
Body showing no remorse, a bayonet is fixed and shown to me
I know it’s going to be mine, and with its tempered edge I will die
Looking across the field of agony, I see my red queen
And feeling my heartbeat slowing to a crawl, I realise my mistake and begin to cry.

101 Things - Number 22

Kiss A Gorgeous Girl Under The Eiffel Tower

Her legs were actually shaking; I wish I could say it was due to the allure of her lips close to mine, or the threat of sweet romance in the city of love. But no. It was actually due to two factors; she had chosen to wear shorts on a day that can only be described as close to Baltic cold, and we had just been to the top of the Eiffel Tower and back down again, and our main mode of transport had been feet on steps. Hence the wobbling legs.
It had been a great day so far, we had walked and playfought along the Seine, waltzed through the entrance to the Louve and been refused admission to a holy church for being inappropriate. And to top it all off I was going to complete the first of many, well 101 tasks, on my list.
Finding the girl had been easy, but getting there had been harder, it’s not easy to find the Eiffel Tower you know. 315 metres of steel can be easily mistaken for a . . . telephone pole.
But I had gotten so carried away with the lifesize models of Thomas Edison and Mr Eiffel atop of the tower in a makeshift room, that I completely forgot that we had come here for another reason as well.
“So, are we going to take a picture at the bottom of us kissing for evidence?” asked Jess.
“Hmmm?” I answered elegantly as I struggled to look away from Mr Edison; do you really think he had a moustache that large?
“A photo, at the bottom, for your list”
“Ah, the list” I tried to cover up my tracks and complete lack of recollection of the task, “Yes”
“You’d forgotten hadn’t you?”
Better to admit failure and gain respect through humility I thought, “No”
So after the trip to the bottom of the Tower, upon which my companion admitted to having “jelly legs”, we were in position. But there is a slight problem when such a great pressure is placed upon you, and the first of one hundred items on a list is about to be ticked off – you find it very funny.
After what seemed like a hundred attempts to kiss, and fail, we looked one another in the eye and we knew the time for smiles and laughter we over; we were in the realm of ambition here, in the city of love and in the cradle of the most romantic steel structures in the world.
So as I swept Jess off her feet and leaned in to kiss her like she’d never been kissed before, only one thing entered my mind, the fact the Parisians call the Eiffel tower the ‘Steel Aubergine’.
The kiss doesn’t go to plan, because I drop her when laughing too loud. This is my written apology, sorry.

Unfinished Sympathy

I lost my sense of empathy when I walked a mile in your shoes,
I won’t be there when you cry to Johnny singing the blues,
Turn out the lights and lie down in the bed that you made,
Always thinking how to destroy barriers with the games you played.

Natural Evocation

When I looked at her, she just smiled. No words, no movement below or above these pursed lips. There was no need, her eyes said it all. She was telling me how much she wanted me, how I wasn’t to issue a word as I tore off her clothes and threw her onto the bed, and how as her fingers clawed into my back, I would watch the perspiration from my head fall like a guiding beacon onto her writhing chest.
My eyes bore into hers, creating an electricity that ripped into all around us, bonding us for emotion untold and constricting the physical. The world stood still and nothing else existed or would be created. If this was it, even for a second, it was worth it all.
And then she disappeared, I heard the traffic and the swell of conversation. Gone without a trace, but leaving a memory that will always be as fresh as a footstep in the snow. Never tarnished, never removed.

Airport Treadmills

A very wise, but clinically obese man once told me ‘never accept your first offer’. He was talking about lapdances, but it stills rings true. As I gladly sipped my first pint of German beer at Amsterdam airport, I was glad I had met the weighty fool.
I had strolled past an enormous crowd at the first bar, all clambering and wailing for an alcoholic drink to numb the fear of falling out of the sky whilst on their homebound connection. While the temptation to stand in line like a good Brit, I gambled on there being another refreshment centre farther down the concourse, and I hit the jackpot.
I guess the motive of the story is, don’t drink and fly.

Love In An Elevator

I’m trapped in an elevator.
No, this isn’t some kind of colourful metaphorical description to the state of my life or my fear of developing claustrophobia. I’m actually in a lift.
It’s a little embarrassing. I’m in Luxembourg airport, which sounds quite exotic and exciting, but this isn’t a skyscraper lift breakdown like you’re expecting. I’m not stuck between the 52nd and 53rd floors with a beautiful Swede and a bottle of champagne conveniently placed for emergencies such as this; if it was, my name would be James and i’d have a knack of flirting hideously with the bosses secretary. I’m actually stuck between the ground and 1st floor, in an elevator that only moves between the floors and is completely transparent. Epic fail you ask? I concur.
The only reason i’m stuck in this ridiculous lift, with the constant threat of the cable snapping and my receiving a twisted ankle, is that I wanted to go in a foreign elevator to see if they were different from the UK. Maybe a voice would announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, be prepared for the ultimate transportation between floors!”, but in French. My childlike search for excitement within modern technology in a distant airport proved to be my downfall.
Whilst a team of mechanics gathered at the bottom of the lift shaft and a lady with a megaphone tells me, and half the airport, to remain calm in broken English. It’s about now that I start to ponder something eloquent and more pertinent than ever; something my father once said to me, ”Get off my shoulders you lazy bastard!”

Double Lined

“Jack?”
Sweat poured from his face, mingling with the dead pool of blood beneath his hands.
“Are you alright?”
His entire body trembled and shook. The horror in his eyes told the story his lips never would. Every muscle was tense and stiff, like an electric current had been charged continuously through his body.
“Jack, can you hear me?”
His fingernails were splintered and torn, testament to his trying to claw through the crimson lake to the floor underneath. Tears swelled in his eyes and his heart wept.
“Jack? Jack! Can you hear me?” A voice rang nearby.
“I’m not Jack” he told, “And I just killed a man”