The Sounds Of The Last Summer

The Ice Will Break:

The Anger of the Gods.

The bridging of the threshold.

The birth in reverse.

The immortal death.

Diarise.

The in between.

Time record.

The shedding skin.

The language of the Saints.

The sacrificial end.

The God sits on his throne.

The great Karmic atone.

Last daylight.

The shedding skin.

Cut the chord.

The great offboard.

Shape shifting tidal shift meeting with violent Fate.

Choosing the path with signs reading “Danger” all the way.

Final reflections on the choice he knew that God would forsake.

Return to dust trodden on before the human race.

Did he fall or was he pushed?

To clean or too unclean?

On the written page,

The Truth remains,

Undecided.

As the Soldier crossed into the Afterlife,

Pulled under by the purple tide,

Taking his chances in the next life,

Leaving the words behind,

To speak all the last goodbyes,

He put trust in the Book of Genesis,

And the Hypocrites.

You know from the dark side of the human mind,

His thoughts seemed almost ordinary…

As we shall see.

The Anger of the Gods.

The bridging of the threshold.

The birth in reverse.

The immortal death.

Ultus:

Forced by a lie to abandon his own home,

The only choice left to die or to live alone,

Piling on the muscle in a strange reverse style,

Choking on the feed whilst he choked behind a smile,

Outgrown by a falsity which meant he could not go,

Hushed by the truth into silencing his phone,

The cage he made collapsed into a pile of sticks and stones,

Just get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone.

Goodbye Motherfucker,

My Lover,

You had this coming.

He set aside the ethics in doomed romance’s name,

He lived in the moment knowing the price to pay,

He did mean what he said but the History reads so plain,

Innoculated myth without the risk of shame,

His Story has a hole,

The History has a hole,

The Gravestone marks the place where there lies a pile of bones,

The time that he took took away time to atone,

The truth is that his love marked the way to his gravestone,

Just get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone,

Get the Motherfucker on the phone.

Goodbye Motherfucker,

My Lover,

You had this coming.

An Untaken Trip

I did not make it.

I sat at the window looking out,

And over the memories within.

Was this all I was?

I could not find the words to explain,

And fell through a hole in the floor,

To the bottom of the sea.

At the bottom of the ocean I dwelled.

At the bottom of the ocean I dwelled.

Wasted were two souls one and the same in their prime,

And great was that waste.

I did not make it.

A Brief History of Humankind

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

I saw the fires they made,

What did you find there?

I saw the tools that they trade,

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

The blood of Christ on their skins,

What did you find there?

I saw God die for their sins,

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

I saw the frontiers they laid

What did you find there?

I saw their children enslaved

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

I saw the science that they taught,

What did you find there?

I saw their history rethought,

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

I saw the gas chambers designed,

What did you find there?

I saw their dead bodies piled.

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

I journeyed far and wide across many distant times

What did you find there?

I saw compassion destroyed.

What did you find there?

I saw the tears in their eyes, they had tears as they cried, there were tears in their eyes.

Very Early Onset Dementia

Taken down,

With hopes alive,

With hopes alive.

Looking down,

Eyes fixed to ground,

Sun flickers over the surface,

Reviving eternal memories,

From the depths of the sea.

Time and weight,

All alone,

The world can feel an empty space,

Pushing weight,

All alone,

The gym can be a lonely place.

Broken down,

Stretching skin,

Atone for sins.

Ocean swells,

Time does tell,

The surface resurfaced,

Pushing steel away from me,

Being pulled under by the vexed sea.

Time and weight,

All alone,

The world can feel an empty space,

Pushing weight,

All alone,

The gym can be a lonely place.

Downward force,

Direction lost,

Bloated limbs,

Taken down,

Taken down,

With hopes alive.

Price to be paid,

Fortune or Fate?

Price to be paid,

With crushing weight.

I’m gaining weight,

Are gains a gain?

Rest earned today,

Price to be paid.

Horror Movies

Horror movies crack me up,

Horror films don’t have a clue,

What it was like to me,

On the day I lost you.

Real life’s scary,

Solitary,

I did not mean to say “Goodbye” so soon.

Real life is what fucks you up,

Horror films do not have a clue,

What it was like to be me,

On the day I lost you.

Real life’s scary,

Solitary,

I did not mean to say “Goodbye” so soon.

The Bodybuilder:

Crushing weight shakes the Earth.

Destruction of the Holy path,

Sinking deeper into the cracks below,

Sores and blistered bloodied hands,

Recovery just another chore,

Like forgetting what you don’t want to know.

Central nervous shock numbs the fear,

Bone crushes bone,

Crushing gears,

Bottled magic’s cost was known,

Poisoned river rages below.

Can?

Clen?

Really?

Cause….?

…….Insomnia?

Rusted engine just turning too slow.

Frostbite setting in,

Losing use of hands,

Known direction lost,

Just running with the land,

Provisions wearing thin,

Avalanche sweeps the land.

Muscle starvation setting in,

Skin stretching far too thin,

I should have saved the fruits of the Holy Branch,

Each sunrise seems to change the face,

Best days long ago laid to waste,

Paralysis crawls down my shattered spine.

Aching bloated limbs,

Is how the end begins,

Hiding in the wind,

Shelter lost by Sin.

Shaking, shivering,

Hypothermia,

Was this the right way to go?

Will I return to the land that felt most like home?

Frostbite setting in,

Losing use of hands,

Known direction lost,

Just running with the land,

Provisions wearing thin,

Avalanche sweeps the land.

Whatever Mum says,

Whatever Dad would have said,

Pain is pain at the end of the day,

Long past the point of no return,

The road ahead is the only way.

The Player:

You have a nerve to be calling my number.

You have a nerve to be wanting to meet up,

You know we have been through this before.

Was that really you calling out my name?

Was that really you pounding on my door?

You have a nerve to be calling my number.

You have a nerve to be wanting to meet up,

You know we have been through this before.

Was that really you calling out my name?

Was that really you pounding on my door?

Was that really you who promised he would wait?

“When I used to go out,

I would talk to every girl I saw,

Now I talk to myself,

If I ever talk at all,

When I used to go out,

I would talk to every girl I saw,

Now I talk to myself,

If I ever talk at all,

When I used to go out,

I would talk to every girl I saw,

Now I talk to myself,

If I ever talk at all.”

You have a nerve to be calling my number.

You have a nerve to wanting to meet up,

You know we have been through this before.

Was that really you calling out my name?

Was that really you pounding on my door?

This Celestial Trial

Floating,

On a wave in the ocean in the sky,

Fighting the,

Fate of its mysterious tide.

Finding fragments on eroded land,

Accidents of the Hidden Hand,

The Gods must have turned it all to sand,

Reflect on the Rank I once held.

Oceans have turned to dust,

Whilst I was just ticking Time away,

Site plan could not be trailed,

When the Sun and the Moon lost their light.

The book we must translate has been corrupted by Man,

This we know,

The race I tried to run will never end,

That’s the game.

“Distress”,

Ends with “S”,

Distress frozen sense,

All sense lost,

Dig the ground,

Open tombs,

Search for clues,

Signs of death.

Trace,

When,

The cup was made,

Golden nail,

Placed,

In the grave,

A white hot blade,

Halted,

The beat of a heart,

Scorched and gouged,

A Soldier stained,

Lost his voice,

A violent calm,

Before the city fell.

The code we tried to crack will crack us all,

This we know,

The ancient textual mystery cannot be solved,

That’s the game.

The Form You Know:

I am not much like,

Me before I was forced to change,

In the fabric of life,

That child’s brain was rearranged.

Tell me,

Does it matter?

If I’m still here or I’m gone?

Crossing,

Into the After,

An impostor.

I’ll take a form you know.

I look the same outside,

A bit like me,

Even though,

I carry a burden I hide,

Underneath the form you know,

Tell me,

Does it matter?

If I’m still here or I’m gone?

Crossing,

Into the After,

An impostor,

Soldiers on,

When is a surprise,

Not a surprise?

Almost 4 decades of life,

I’ll take a form you know.

Have my cells denatured with this guilt?

For things I barely remember,

Life is shorter within this tilt,

Forever crossing over.

I’ll take a form you know.

I’ll take a form you know.

Tell me,

Does it matter?

If I’m still here or I’m gone?

Crossing,

Into the After,

An impostor,

Soldiers on.

Good Morning Suicide

It’s cold outside. This day sort of came from nowhere. In the middle of August there is a huge drop in temperature completely out of the blue. It is almost as if this is God’s way of reminding us that Summer is temporary and Winter is on the horizon. Nature has its own way.

I queue up in Marks and Spencers and notice the same group of old people who usually congregate in the area behind Check Out. The ones who usually overstay their welcome when buying things. The ones who linger, making conversation for the sake of making conversation. For the luxury of professional company.

I realise I’m actually in front of one of the usual faces in the queue. The old lady with the orange hair. From the side it looks like she has been crying but this could just be her makeup melting.

I start to think about human behaviour. How we pair up or do not pair up. There must be people out there in this world who led tragic lives. Lives which were wrongly chalked up as the lives of weirdos or loners. Lives of the alone. People who society diagnosed as crazy.

How many of these people really were crazy? What if these people were once like you and me? They were people who were once in love. In love with the people their evolutionary wiring made them fall in love with anyway: the people their evolutionary programming told them would produce the most successful offspring, whatever anyone else had to say about the matter.

You see at one level a man (and a woman) is really just a mating machine. At one level our true purpose is really just to find the right person to mate with – not because they are the nicest guy or girl or the easiest person to live with. God has other ideas. Or Nature. Or whatever else you choose to call it.

No. We are instinctively most attracted to the person with whom we produce the best genetic cocktail. There is a reason why we have that natural attraction to people that those around us do not understand. At a primal, instinctive level we understand that this person gives our children the best possible chance of survival and at that level is the best possible mate.

But that person is usually not the easiest person to be with. This is the paradox. The reason why we’re all screwed.

The best mate at an evolutionary level is not going to be Mr Simple.

So what happens when that relationship breaks down? Some people try to consciously override their evolutionary wiring with a Mr Simple therefore losing the chance to produce the best possible offspring. They are never truly satisfied but they convince themselves that they made the right choice with conscious rationalisations and the hollow comfort of polite companionship.

And then there are others. The ones left behind. The ones who are less capable of self-denial. Because they are more in tune with their evolutionary wiring and intuitively understand the tragedy of missing out on the chance to produce the most successful offspring that they could have done, they never fully recover.

And then, some 40 years later, society simply calls them crazy and you see them hanging around in Marks and Spencer’s.

Is it right for society to judge them wrong? They are just victims of their bio-chemistry as we all are.

The lady with orange hair behind me points to some orange slices I am buying and says:

“You know what’s good for you, don’t you?”

And the truth is I am not sure that I do. I am only buying them because they’re reduced. I am more of an Advocado man anyway. But I need to at least try to be friendly, so I say:

“Well you have to at least try to be friendly, don’t you? I mean healthy. You have to at least try to be healthy.”

And she sort of scans my body up and down and says “You look it.” with a wink.

I look down and realise I am wearing a short T-Shirt which is showing my biceps and I instinctively take a backwards step before smiling back. Not because I am self-conscious. But because I become aware of the size difference between her and I. I really am looking pretty big at the moment. I would not want to scare anyone.

And that reminds me I need to buy some more T-Shirts because I practically had to throw out my entire wardrobe recently because nothing really fits me anymore. It seems a shame in a way. But a man has to do what a man has to do.

So I pay up and make my way to the clothes stores and then I remember something and just stop.

Right there in the middle of the street I freeze.

I freeze because of what I have remembered.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Oh God I still miss you.

I miss you.

This collection of poems is dedicated to Dullah. Rest easy my brother.