The New Life

To throw away old childhood heirlooms
Those cob webbed covered conduits of nostalgia
Into the incinerator never to act as the gateway again

That’s exactly what your demanding
When you hold out your hand by the garden entrance
To pull me away from another month spent reminiscing

But what of all the loose ends?
The stories left unfinished like a figurine catalogue
My fair murderer she’ll be left wandering in the crib

Oh what concern is it of yours?
If they want to pacify themselves on old dish water
In the face of the new life

I’ve grown soft from the old life
Where once stood armour lies a one street to my heart
That’s before I consider all the new information fed to me

Different names to scream
During the tail end of the journey to the north street light
And to express gratitude to midst a flood of impulses

Different wounds to lick
When the horns sound from the capital signifying their boredom
It’s reached it’s peak before I could even get used to their pillows

Oh what concern is it of yours?
If they want to pacify themselves on week old cherryade
In the wake of the new life

*Written For National Poetry Month – 9/30*

Read the epilogue to this poem here:
http://thetartanprelude.tumblr.com/post/84360470482/the-new-life-epilogue

The Symbolism Of Silence

I think the public image of personal growth
Has been incorrectly portrayed in the confines
Of a catch up conversation between disconnected pen pals
And with it brings a very venomous drawback indeed

Oh it shows when I’m sat slouched in my chair like quicksand
Playing Glass Harmonicas with my coffee mug
Trying to pass of asking about the rotas at your work
As a deep, meaningful and interesting conversation

Like the ones we had 5 am outside the abandoned estates
Putting the world to rights, as we deconstructed and dissect
The flawed expectations of outdated mindests of all the grown ups
But now I struggle to find the words to ask how you are

The person I long to talk too they’re dead and gone
Do you agree? Do you think the same things about me?

We were lost souls in a sea of possibilities
Being barked at from every angle to breast stroke
But young lovers will always be content
With laying on their back and floating in the ocean

But now we’ve both straightened up and fallen in line
Did we lose it? The only thing that kept us nattering for hours?
Was our sense of anarchy the only thing that binded us?
Now our paths are off in opposite directions, the distance only grows

Did you forget how to give people that look in your eye
Or do you keep it on reserves just for the next one too see?

*Written For National Poetry Month – 8/30*

Our Activity

The clock strikes around 40 minutes past 4
And so comes to end another shift as the canvas
For comrades to project their insecurities onto
Being born with a flawed blueprint, it’s the perfect excuse
Oh lucky me I’m to be greeted with an offering of h2o
Delivered from the heavens above personally

I know it sounds surreal, but their was something sweet
About being greeted with the biggest smile
Clutching your brand new set for handcuffs
It brings me right back from the soaked walk home
Shall we play cops and robbers for tonight?
Get the toppings and play DIY chef in the kitchen?
Put on the body suits and go a round of play fighting?
Or take a trip to the green in just your skirt?

I was never good to expressing myself with words
I can’t think of sentence that begins to describe
How good it feels to have a life in my life
Who can forgo all sense of verbal communication
No misunderstandings, No excess of words
Any reassurance for your daily allowance
You got in excess from our bodyflow
The only time I’m understood

And now I’m stationary in my room
Gathering moss on my flesh
Even if their words were never true
And they were planning a getaway
For the next day
Just a night to partake in our little activity

*Written For National Poetry Month – 7/30*

Thick (W.I.P)

After our friends fuck off for a fag break
We find ourselves standing side to side
With our backs to the receding wallpaper
Under the second hand Maplin spotlights
It highlights the dread in your golden eyes
No matter how many times you lick those lips
You can never reach out and claim what’s rightfully yours
You can never let a good thing just be a good thing

You stare down at your feet, looking quite forlorn
You lament how they used to call you thick
The kind of girl that couldn’t solve 2 x 4
While stuck in the middle of a Casio showroom

I know you’d rather pass a kidney stone
Then to hear about how your the apple of my eye
But god every second I see you stuck in the dumps
It sucks away my spirit like strawberry milkshake

You stare down at your shoes, like I hit a trigger
You recall how they used to call you thick
The kind of girl that receives the sniggers
While stuck in the queue at the cafeteria

Please listen to the gospel that I’m shouting
Stop using what the dregs used to say
As an excuse to not shoot for what your wanting
I’m on my knees, please baby just embrace me!
I want to tickle your toes in the bathtub
Feed you strawberries by the lakeside
Trace circles on your palm during the book club
Turn you into a god when the confidence has died
Feel you hold my arm when your overcome with fright
To see you stamp your feet when I don’t pick up the slack
Kiss you on the head and make-up after a fight
Gnaw on your neck while you leave slashes on my back
Please darling I’m fucking begging you now
Just listen to tremors coming from my chest
Put aside all them nasty scowls
And just fucking accept me for everything I am

Before I start to grow callous
And my heart turns into dust

* For National Poetry Month – 6/30 *

A Pack Of Mayfair By Any Other Name

Never you dare judge a book
By it’s tatty #yolo hoodie
And two sizes too small discount jeggings
These are the teachings of mine mother
Oh Kerrinequia-Jane-Willow Faith
They always misjudge your radiance
When they hear though the grapevine
You took that bottle of cola from the cantine
And took yourself to heaven in the bushes behind smokers
And they think they somehow know you
But I know behind the scales under your eyes
The gob splattered on the streets like breadcrumbs
And screeching Charlie XCX as you walk home
Lies a heart of gold, waiting to come out
I see it when you kiss your pet staffy
When you cry after dropping your new iPhone
When you tear the hair off a bystander
For daring to eye up your mans new Reebok’s
Oh what must I do to get you sat on my lap?
On the curb outside of the corner shop
And stealing my nuggets to get some fags
Smokin’ them all before mummy gets back
Cos I hear your fella’s in the dog house
For dealing in front of Go Banana’s again
Thank the skies above, now’s my chance!
To swoop in like a seagull to a discarded bag of chips
I’ll run my fingers though your faded ruby locks
Pushing all the dandruff to the centre of your scalp
Come on babe lets put these fingers to good use
I heard they left the disabled toilets unlocked again

*For National Poetry Month – 5/30*

An Invalid Opinion

I dunno what lines the other boys fed to you
For you to look at yourself like that
Through the lens of fairground house of mirrors
With a snapshot of devastation on your face
Are you deluded? Or maybe just stupid?
Cos only the incompetent could ever react that way

Oh honey don’t you lower that head of yours
I’ll make you see what a work of art you are
Dry your eyes and show me that little smirk again
You say they never loved you when your down
When the planets just couldn’t align
Never let those nasty words taint the mirrors feedback

Even though we’ve already explored our forms head to toe
The thought of seeing you in the flesh
Gets me vibrating on the 66 bus seats
Like a jackhammer left in the cement mixer
You must be suffering from cataracts
Or maybe a blow to the head, to meet me under the sheets
But while I have you, I’ll do the only thing I know how
I’ll take you to levels the other couldn’t, I’ll break you in early

Oh honey don’t cover them eyes of yours
I’ll make you see what a work of art you are
Show me them zircons and shoot me little smirk again
You see they never loved me when I was down
When the moods just couldn’t sync
I’ll never let their nasty actions dull my excitement for you

*For National Poetry Month – 4/30*

An Attempt With The Dating Scene In Colchester

I’m really interested in hearing about your favourite TOWIE moment
I’m really interested in hearing about how much you hate your manager
I’m really interested in hearing about your unique reasons
Of why the latest American Hollywood series is ‘tops’

I didn’t think you’ve heard off any activities to get your heart burning
I didn’t think you’ve heard off any song to evoke a feeling inside
I didn’t think you’ve heard off anything to catch your interests
Outside of reality show tidbits to fill the silence at the water cooler

Of course you look lovely tonight
Of course you look pretty tonight
Of course you look gorgeous tonight
Cos’ you all look so similar

What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
What do I think of your personality?
I can’t say I spotted one

Sulking all on your own
Leaning by your skull
On the promotional material
For NVQ 1 graduates in Albeton live

Seeing all the chickens in this coop
Clucking the same old meme’s
Bragging about taking the same old drugs
But look at them leaning on each others chests
Yeah, must be nice…

There’s no point in fighting fate
In fighting the inevitable
There’s no migrating with the herd
No integrating with the school

And if you could take back
A pretty young thing back to your pad
Would it be worth the taxi fare
If conversation dies after you offer a cup of tea
The next morning

*For National Poetry Month – 3/30*

If That’s How You Feel

I can’t say it doesn’t hurt
When it dawns on me I’m not the first thought of the day anymore
I can feel the stress of a stress relief weighing you down
As the distance between us only grows
Even when at arm’s length from each other
When you consider; locking fingers through suburban shortcuts
In competition to scrapbook filling crawls through the neon
It doesn’t take a philosopher to propose the theory
That your eyes don’t illuminate the dance floor
When you get a little love note form me, not anymore

If that’s the way you feel
Then hey that’s how you feel
I can’t change the way you feel
There’s nothing I can do about how you feel

I’d hate to start playing the blame game, as a way to cushion the blow
I don’t wanna call you a liar or that say you were untrue
But I’ll say you had to be exaggerating just a tad
I know it’s easy to carried away with a fresh out the box muse
To liken lazy days, tying our limbs together like shoelace knots
To the celestial phenomenon that blesses our skies every millennium
I bet you thought I was just getting carried away
I only wish that were true and that I didn’t mean every word

But hey if that’s the way you feel
Then that’s just how you feel
I can’t change the way you feel
There’s nothing I can do about how you feel

I bet even if the circumstances changed
And a blossom of blanks paraded your cache
You still wouldn’t feel a thing for me
That’s just the way they all feel

*For National Poetry Month – 1/30*

And If She Doesn’t Come Back Around… (W.I.P)

It feels like i’ve been playing tiddly winks with my time
Throwing away days and days into a discarded lunchbox
Like a schoolchild killing time, bobbing at the edge of their seat
As the clock flirts with the idea of striking quarter past 3
Just waiting for that rumoured telegram from your end
To signify your return to our beloved rock
Ideas of dipping our feet in the riverbed
While gorging on pre-planned ham sandwiches
Parade my mind like everyday’s a new Mardi Gras
Made to heighten the anticipation of tasting your mouth

Oh gem stoned eyed lady, I understand the confusion
But don’t let my solitude deceive you now
I’m less a wolf on patrol at the park gates, waiting to be fed
I’m more akin to an aktia, waiting for its master on the porch
I can see you position your hands on the bar
With the precision of an open heart surgeon
Like rooks on a chessboard, ready to claim the king
But I feel I must remind, I’m loyal to my queen
Ready to get down on my knees the very moment
That she decides to grace the streets again

But this time next week, if you see me alley bound
Like a lost pup left out in the pouring rain
Lacking the usual collar, now with no one to call my own
You’re welcome to give me shelter
Take me in your arms and take me home
And while you’re at it, take away all the grief
That comes with being abandoned on the doorstep
It takes a heart of pure gold to take in a mutt like me

Oh emerald gazed woman, I’d of tried to make you smile earlier
But I could never betray her, who showed me silver lined mornings
In a sea of gray tainted days, I could never break the heart
Of a saint who never asked for it, but in light of these events
An empty inbox, and a reservoir of unspent affection
Maybe I’ll take you up on that drink

Early Exit

*Another oldie from when I was 17, man I was a sad ass boy*

Walking under the proto-sleet beneath me
What is it that the locals see in me?
If i started running would any of them follow me?
Friend or foe to see what was the score?
Making my way through the nostalgic stage sets
Exit right away from the routine dramatics I’ve seen before
Trekking it all the way on my own
As much as I’d hate to sulk, let alone
But it’s far to late to scream for them
As I’ve already fled the scene

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?

I couldn’t find the heart to ask for aid
When it’s that aid which is expected of me
But if i started to walk away would any of them stop me?
Unless i tried to plan and make a scene
But to give in to weaker ways would destroy me
Would it make me nothing more than charity?
Snifflers and sobbers huddled on the pavement floor
Asking for pity, louder than ever before
Would it be wrong to follow suit?
Or would opposing tropes cause me to be cast aside?
If your not happy your not relevant in these times
So sadly I’ll have to flee the scene
And hope that they’ll follow me

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?