Adulation In Concrete

The cracks run higher than mountains
Out of sight and beyond what I can understand
I sit between them, splintering quietly
With those that ruck, spit and sit
Snivelling muted contentedness

The walls moan beneath the weight of an infinite dream
Groan with every sarcastic rock
Of the indifferent sundial it has become
It is made of lines intersecting
We snort as we pass columns unmoving
Juddering bells in a cloud of diesel fumes




There’s a masked man calling it quits
on the brink of a perfect nightmare I sit
and collect the rabid thoughts of fired lakes
and sharpened sticks        There are Wyverns here
that fly so low to the ground you can
taste the salt on their scales and their wails
remind me of home somehow        This boastful
place is a growling glint of wild and rueful
hope where rivers bleed into puddles of
vast shimmering silver        I am a hero and my
destiny lies in saving all of this to try and try
to lift it up to the rafters         A symbol of hope
There are Wyverns here and they will
chase me to the ends of the Earth.


The Broken Symmetry Of Man

Times two; for wanton rage where
Eagles dare to dream.
I’m fitful and tired and burning out
In this rabid, nuisance mind.
Flipping pages of not yet dust:
Smoke forms a roof to insulate
And I engage with the
Hopeless breeze of thought.
Spluttering incessance while
The hands churn; perpetual,
Without ever holding,
Waves unstopping;
Passing us by.

Crime does pay for all our sins
In blood, stone and cash.
There’s a well running dry; deserted now.
Gargle and hydrate away!
Green paper fades in clawing tips:
“When we’re rich we’ll sing from these dried lips!”
Slots and dice played with
Cots and minds of The All,
“I’m not a man to crumble under pressure.”