Begotten

O, tattered skyline so many miles across

Greens, reds and silvers

Skellein structures and mismatched colours

Begotten

 

O, tattered skyline:
Greens, reds and silvers,
Skellein structures and
Mismatched colours;
The clouds gather
And watch it fall:
It has all escaped, now,
Betrayed,
Once loyal now in doubt—

Listen! The screams above:
The silence—
Their eyes—
Their movements—

Listen! The creaking below:
The sinking, bleeding—
The splinters—
Their creased wrinkles—

O, sunshine, break through:
Blue, azura, horrifying,
The sky now in sight,
Sounding lost:
Hallways;
Corridors;
Classrooms;
Offices;
Bedrooms;
Kitchens:
And inside every one,
A different cry.

 

Black Spots

Walking through black spots, wind […]

Black Spots

 

Walking through black spots, wind:
Sun-palmed trees, wrath of the beach—
The water beyond could drag me down;
Toes cling to sand for dear life.
We noticed the shadow of our friend,
Standing in the black spots,
Dragged by the wind,
Just thinking—

Archiving lists of gates and looms
In a library filled with sand—
Worried only by the leaping of beetles;
Vines, barrels full of beer, bitter.

Damned, deserted, upset:
Heralded;
Welcomed;
Abused.

Lost to the sea, drunk on a lilo, no horizon left
And swimming back to the dense streets of the city,
Where people scream, holler, revel—
And the feeling is mutual
When you say you don’t belong—

 

Paroxysm

The tower block collapses in the distance.

A lonely high-rise condemned

Just like we have been.

Paroxysm

 

Tower block collapses in the distance.
A lonely high-rise, condemned.

One side of a fifty-pence piece smiles.

You told me to be there at three,
But the roads were piled with the cars,
And the bodies:
Set off too late, and I could do
Nothing but stand.

Fires begin across the city.
Soon, the countryside burns, too.
The petrol that soaks the streets
Lights up in a line—

The sky is beautiful
And blue.