His Wall

She hits his wall,
Built from his lies,
Then she recalls
That look in his eyes.

The fiery stare,
So full of love,
Now deciphered
As limited lust.

And it wasn’t the first time;
And it won’t be the last time.

His fingers click,
She comes running,
In bed ten minutes
And he is coming.

When she leaves,
She calls her friends,
Tears down her face,
“When will it end?”

And it wasn’t the first time;
And it won’t be the last time.

She stands out,
Clichéd as the sun,
In a club full of women
She’s the only one.

Not to him,
Jacked up to be
A lovelorn lothario
At each opportunity.

And it wasn’t the first time;
And it won’t be the last time.

Peerless elsewhere
She deserves more,
Yet she goes back,
Knocking at his door.

He just laughs,
Picks his own time,
His choice is his
But wouldn’t be mine.

And it wasn't the first time;
And it won't be the last.

Broken Hearted Pop Song

I took some Panadol
for a broken heart.
Heard drink was the cure
but vowed not to start.
So much promise
left unfulfilled.
Dreams were tunnels
Till my alarm shrilled.

Something once
uniquely spectacular.
Struck dumb by
clichéd vernacular.
Stuttering through
tautologies old.
Our history a cycle
constantly re-told.

I stand there proclaiming
the love you’re defaming,
It cannot be ending
but you’re not pretending,
And now you are crying
while I am still crying,
I can see you’re not lying,
but I doubt that you’re trying.

Formal dress in a
casual setting.
Enough to fool friends
who think I’m forgetting.
Reminded of peace
when I recall our trust.
But unease sets in
this futility of us.

No way back now
and no hope forward.
No solace gained
from being ignored.
Only the truth with
its ringing bell.
The sound of your flight
back to your shell.

I stand there proclaiming
the love you’re defaming,
It cannot be ending
but you’re not pretending,
And now you are crying
while I am still crying,
I can see you’re not lying,
but I doubt that you’re trying.

Here comes the rain
to compound our pain.
Its presence ironic
as we argue in vain.
At night I pray
you will turn and stay.
Only to confront more
diffident dismay.

And my bedroom becomes out of tune.
As a hiding place it came too soon.
You were in it too often before.
You were in it too often before.

I stand there proclaiming
the love you’re defaming,
It cannot be ending
but you’re not pretending,
And now you are crying
while I am still crying,
I can see you’re not lying,
but I doubt that you’re trying.


(if I was to guess, I would say I was listening to Mr. November quite a lot at the time I wrote this)

Tomangos

Caught in this old haunt
By the sea,
Where the beats change
And the patrons
Grow younger –
But we are still here,
Diminished,
Deflated,
But drunkenly defiant
(at least they are anyway).

The politics downed
One blue bottle a time
As that heartbreaker
Strikes again,
While hating this home;
Meanwhile
That callous callow fox
Brings tears to his
Beloved friend’s face,
Cosmetically beautiful;

Yet nobody knows
When either is ever natural.

The carpet is still worn
From repeated steps
Taken in solace
Amidst the inebriated;
Ghosts of the past
Present themselves
Presently
As faces contort
To resemble lovers
Lost to fear.

The strangers only serve
To enforce
The strangeness
Of this situation:
How still time has stood
While passing by
Even quicker than
A second slips
Away,
To nothing:

All seen before, with every
Crossing over the threshold.

Déjà vu
Freeze-framed
Beside the faceless,
Old hangers-on
Having slithered away
To neoteric niches
Filled with people
Nescient to their
Sycophantic ways –
Until the souls are sucked dry.

The sick cycle
Sees them spawn
Anew whenever
A few die off;
And though we’d
Weed them out
With fourberie,
Lurking roguishly
In the corners
Were more:

Fleeing invisibility
For a taste of obscurity,

Always more,
Slyer than before,
So much so
I cannot recognise
Rogue from ravager
Anymore;
Strobing lights
Strangle my sight
As I lose everyone
In the compression.

The stagnating screams
Rise and fall
As I walk and walk
This winding way,
Searching for something
Never really there –
Until, finally,
With thinned-out soles,
I see those I know
And those I don’t

With no longer a clue
As to who is who.

Four Days

Revealing your hand

Was your only mistake,

When you flashed that smile

I just had to play;

Once a romantic

Just like you,

Then love unrequited

Changed my view.

Even through text

I could tell you were keen,

Pushing the promise

Of what may have been;

You were just

A midnight taxi away,

So when you called

What else could I say?

I did it to see

What you could do,

I did it to see

If I could truly love you,

I did it with hopes

Of a half-hearted love,

I did it so I knew

It would never be enough.

Cans in your room

With some choice friends,

All of whom knew

Your previous loose ends;

They averted their gaze

While we kissed on the bed,

I felt butterflies in your stomach

But doubts in my head.

We kissed so hard

You made up my nose,

When it bothered me much

I knew we weren’t so close;

I pressed my lips harder

To convince myself no,

A false promise later

And it was time to go.

I did it to see

What you could do,

I did it to see

If I could truly love you,

I did it with hopes

Of a half-hearted love,

I did it so I knew

It would never be enough.

And for four days I thought

Of you an awful lot

Until I finally got shot

Of me within us.

And for four days I thought

Of you an awful lot

Until I suddenly stopped

My indecisiveness.

Then I thought:

“Us without love would never be enough,”

So I text:

“Tonight I’m too busy with other stuff.”

I did it to see

What you could do,

I did it to see

If I could truly love you,

I did it with hopes

Of a half-hearted love,

I did it so I knew

It would never be enough.

Weathered Train

I arrive at the station
And
Catch myself
In the glass;
Held by my reflection
I
Ruminate
Journeys past.

Rain trickles down the window
Like
A teardrop
Down a face;
A sterner glance reveals
Some
Idle drops
Out of place.

Raising my hand to my cheek
I
Feel my thoughts
Come to be;
Distantly a voice claims
My
Tears have come
Silently.

I stagger about my spot
Here
To see who
Called my name;
Friends from home quietly stare
As
I see us
Still the same.

On this train from present to
Past
Visiting
An old flame;
Blinking eyes in disbelief
I
Wonder why
I’m on this train.

Those Olive Eyes

Apoplectic lights
Burn and blind
All
Caught
Beneath this
Giant red tent,
Bar Lithuania’s finest;
Gyrating
With all the sensuality
Two teens can bear
(and bare they did
with revealing relish
before
drunken, hungry eyes,
coaxing my own).

Nicotine smoke
Pushed breathlessly out
Of strange lips
By crushed people
Inhaled with relief,
Then;
Second-hand
In its element,
So removing me
To the K-holed
Mind
Of somebody else,
Senseless
(but with more than I).

Faltering under
Those lights’ gaze
And everyone
Looks
Exactly the same
When captured
Within their frame;
The beats beat
Ever on and on
And one faceless fool
Is dragged
From this techo-jungle
Unconscious
By a friend
Foaming at the mouth.

Fear drives
The fearless
And
Fear drowns
The fearful
As one more body
And
Yet more bodies
Get dragged
From this arena
Of sweating ravers
And
Posing DJs:
And I find myself
Drowning in fear.

I twist,
I turn,
I seek to escape
Because
Those beams of light
Sear my being
And tell me
To tell myself:
I do not belong here.
But
As I struggle back
A hand clasps mine
And I am
Held
By a vision of her.

Sobriety
A gift,
Here and now,
When through
The blinding
Clarity takes form –
And she is beautiful.
Momentarily
Time stands still
As she comes
Into focus:
The caring touch,
The sweet smile,
The delicate disposition,
And those eyes…

But I am
Shaken
From my reverie
As bodies
Begin to
Collapse again;
Lights return
Seething
At being shunned
And
They cut through
Us –
Held hands broken,
The signal crystal:
This isn’t my fight anymore.

But
She looks at me,
Tellingly,
With those
Big ‘round
Olive eyes
Catching all the lights
Luminously,
And something
Commonly shared
But
Sincerely rare
Becomes suddenly clear:
She believes in me,
Utterly and irrevocably.