Tag Archives: Poetry

Facing Forwards

A rushing blow of smoke and steam, This trip it roughens, Cuts they bleed

The cold air sharpens me like a vice, The metal frame glazed and sparkling white.

I remember well in times now past, What the smoke and steam and glaze may cast

But I see now that I missed the point, Which me, or I, obscured from sight.

Smoke and steam, Frosted white dream, Gliding on a razor’s edge

And though with love, with pleasure, comes fear, Love’s deep abyss draws me near

And I’m facing forwards back to you.

The cold air bites, My fingers shake as my hand it writes

But my jet warm vapour trail, My billowing pluming tail

Comforts me in the cold, Facing forwards, Bold.


Tin Train Life

I’m two down now how do I get up again, I needed them then but they wreck me still

Under the branches all arranged on the steepest slope

And now I don’t even know what my ideal was in the first place.

And I talk about choice like I have some idea what it’s like to ever come close to encapsulating even one moment of what anyone ever felt

All I have is various shiny bits of card, they may be nice colours but they don’t get me far.

And this is a long break I wasn’t expecting, And I keep thinking I need more direction

But the truth is that it’s the speed and force and violence that hurts, and so direction doesn’t mean so much after all.

But that’s only a hunch, Why the fuck must I keep second guessing myself

Is it me or is there some comfort in unpredictability

Not comfort, no, cold comfort if so

All that remains is cold, dry, shrivelled mistakes, Served up on the world’s most enourmous plate.

What the fuck do you mean you don’t recognise me, Am I not different from anything you’ve ever before seen

Of course I am but your mind’s made up, And so I vanish under your cruel hand

But you claim to do it for honour and benevolence, You may even claim charity

But now it’s me that cannot see.

A mass grows, Sleepy, beautiful and dangerous

Do I have to relentlessly interrogate all that is here, According to what has already been

But where does this leave what is yet to come

Though I know everything must start at one, I’m stuck at zero not knowing how to become.

And who really cares about those who dance, Well I do, because they do not

And we strive to balance every scale, As if anything was ever so simple.

Yet simplicity is all I really desire, And that’s the nearest a truth I can offer

But don’t try making me feel good, I appreciate concern

But only in the sense that I know it’s not meant. 



Too Late

I had it all planned perfectly

everything arranged

the times all fitted together

I even worked in something strange

because you never really know

these days you never can be sure

the dizzying pace at which it runs has knocked me to the floor

but still I thought that I could make it

yes I had a back up plan

things could still just work out ok and I turned around and ran

and I was just so close

and I watched you pull away

and then a shard of hope came to me

and I ran the other way

and then I thought that I had made it

yes I thought I really did

it could all work out for good this way

so I settled down and hid

and for a while I was quite safe

and my confidence it grew

so I took some time at the window

and admired the rolling view

but slow it dawned upon me

as the vital hour approached

and in time I knew it was gone

gone beyond redress

I’d been lied to by those I trusted the most

I was powerless to them and all their false hope

and now I’m flying the wrong way down a blind beggars alley

and the promises I made are washed downstream down valley

with me tied to them and I can feel myself go under

when the strings they break and my body splits asunder

and the skies they will open

there’ll be lightning and thunder

and my spirit will be broken

into death I will have blundered

because it’s too late

I had it all planned perfectly

it’s too late

it’s right out of my hands

yes it’s too late

it was meant to all be perfect

but it’s gone.