Friday, 7 April 2017
Queisha
You dance on stones,
say you're in love again,
blue baby on your own,
public toilets are for the old,
no one takes the blame, .
only junkies want to atone,
they say resist your loan,
don't exceed your gains,
remember all that you know,
moving fast with my 'phone,
it helps me explain,
how far i need to go,
the buzz is mine alone,
once it gets to midnight,
no one hears you moan,
blow me big kisses,
from the howling zones,
send lightning if you miss,
wrap my skin and bones.
Thursday, 6 April 2017
Quanita
Waiting for the train,
a summers day home late,
on methadone you never say,
the buzz is mine alone,
if it gets to half past eight,
no one hears you moan,
at the rails pray,
for something better than a headstone,
could't stand the shame,
public toilets are for the old,
who will bear the blame, .
it's only junkies who atone,
from yesterday’s game,
Yes, we have to state,
this is our brand new face,
dinner is still to make,
suicide is not child's play,
feel my cotton waist,
sunlight floods the plain.
she made us flower
never turning away
making our case
the loss she created,
her bottle a freighter,
the ones off the labour,
thunderstorm and showers
like a schooner waits for wind,
she let us pause for thought,
she knew all our sins,
cargo boats making for home,
their freight caught,
she jolted all our bones,
knew where we lived,
the Bridge her open shore,
how we were as kids,
at her party on the Falls,
Belfast's steamy closeness,
we were all her towers,
never made to cower
Wednesday, 5 April 2017
Queenie
She made us flower.
as if literature our passport,
the ones off the lower,
like a schooner waits for wind,
she let us pause for thought,
she knew all our sins,
cargo boats making for home,
their freight caught,
she jolted all our bones,
knew where we lived,
the Bridge her open shore,
how we were as kids,
at her party on the Bowery,
New York's steamy closeness,
we were all her towers,
she died as we knew her,
listening to Artie Shaw,
a thunderstorm then showers,
the city our open door.
even struggle sedated
the trouble you create,
a drunk without jokes,
crying on the pavement,
lost to your ghosts,
in a red lipstick fragrance,
your bottle is a freighter,
including the kitchen sink
Tuesday, 4 April 2017
Quenata
Do onions and cloves,
scare you to blink,
who will want your clothes,
will parents serve the pasta,
is this what they think,
a home and child disaster.
does your husband moan,
drink more drink,
bellow Basta down the phone,
a warm place forever,
not like his bedroom’s pink,
or when you're past it,
who hasn't felt the drone,
of the river’s slink,
the ocean in your thoughts,
flickering beside your moans,
inside you a link,
what happens to the soul,
when it doesn't sing.
even struggle sedated
the trouble you create,
a drunk without jokes,
crying on the pavement,
lost to your ghosts,
in a red lipstick fragrance,
your bottle is a freighter,
by sun, moon, your breath,
it will bring no ruin,
stay close to your friends,
including the kitchen sink,
houses bought under Kennedy,
moving like you wouldn't mind,
a sense of ease
Monday, 3 April 2017
Quita
Alone at the bus place,
you ask for a smoke.
you're not the patient,
in a white coat,
who struggles sedated,
like a daughter brought home,
who’ll sweep up remains,
like others fix horses,
for some kingdom unnamed,
once more you're broke,
the trouble you create,
a drunk without jokes,
crying on the pavement,
lost to your ghosts,
in a red lipstick fragrance,
your bottle is a freighter,
to welcome your hosts,
don't feed the alligators,
your beautiful soul.
not through your bones,
nor for your good,
it merely drips when you're alone,
by sun, moon, your breath,
it will bring no ruin,
stay close to your friends,
for ones who may atone,
gamble everything,
all our days inseed,
including the kitchen sink,
houses bought under Kennedy,
moving like you wouldn't mind,
a sense of ease
Sunday, 2 April 2017
Quedesha
Miguel de Unamuno said,
a drop of blood,a little love
does not bring death,
but does you good
not through your bones,
nor for your good,
it merely drips when you're alone,
by sun, moon, your breath,
it will bring no ruin,
stay close to your friends,
for ones who may atone,
persuade those lovers to soothe,
do again what's already done,
if that makes sense,
yellow sand, tidal flood,
make a rush to send,
a hardened face to the end,
resisting what you could,
this is why you bled,
before the dust.
seeing life through your gaze,
the oranges and the sea,/a lovely gentle philosophy
you go about your days,
gamble everything,
all our days inseed,
including the kitchen sink,
houses bought under Kennedy,
moving like you wouldn't mind,
a sense of ease
Saturday, 1 April 2017
Petta
You direct me to make tea,
why is it so hard to stay,
lies i tell of where i've been,
you wipe my face, turn a cheek,
make all the wrong arrangements,
what do you see,
you'd gamble anything,
including all our days,
without even a kitchen sink,
your Ma crawled to West Kirby,
from Liverpool in her day,
grateful on her knees.
is my luck your uncertainty,
seeing life through your gaze,
the oranges and the sea,
you'll go out you said to me,
in a blue cigarette haze,
maybe that has to be,
knowing what to say.
Do you drive on fire,/
beneath evening trees
seeing those those photos,
of your family long deceased,
slipping beneath the road,
dusty places along the wires,
dancing on the breeze,
homing like a pigeon flyer,
settling on the stones,
kids kicked on the street,
another of Uncle Joe,
the father alongside who died,
so young his wife screamed,
Why,
Sunday faces looking inspired,
houses bought under Kennedy,
moving like you wouldn't mind,
a sense of ease
their life is tame.
Great Days
in the fast lane
learning of trouble
in shameful ways,
or act the holy one,
against your lover,
all fires raised,
awash on the coast
hooray/ state
sheltered by rain
what you love most
learn to forget her
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