the storms of venus

O’ the wind, the rain & the phoenix

i love the way the wind howls at the moon. and the rain rips the land new. i love the way the river swells angry murky and brown all the way to its edges. I love the way it charges down the valley to spit in the oceans mouth.

i love the hills and how they lay dormant like great ancient monsters waiting for the earth to rattle them awake with a decent earthquake. i love the way the mist sits and swallows trees all day and eats the steal blue while the sun burns away.

you wanted me to stay in Marlborough where the weathers always mild but too much sun makes a desert. and here, i grow wild.

number 41 – [part 2]

and then one day, i bought my ticket home, in secret. and i layered it under a story “i want to go home and get my guitar”. and she said, “you're trying to escape my love aren't you?” and i said “no, i just want to get my guitar”. and she said “if you don't come back i'll probably kill myself.” and i said “i'll come back, i'll come back”.

she took me to the boat and she said: “promise me you'll come back”. “when you come back things will be different, we'll go for more walks and we'll eat food i won't spend our money on drugs”. “i'll make things different for you, all for you only for you, special you”.

and i said “okay, sure, i promise i'll come back”. and i turned around i walked down the ferry terminal and i never looked back once, i never waved goodbye never cried, i just wanted to get away, i didn't want to lie to survive anymore. i got on the boat and i breathed for the first time in 6 weeks.

i got home and i bought bandages and cigarettes and verse. i fed my body, i fed it clean air and i patched up the holes and i dyed my hair black but i never went back. I’ll never go back.

number 41

she sits there in her bed sharpening her knives. the edges are wearing dull. im sitting on a field of names. all crossed out. all no good. I'm number 41.

she takes one of the blades and cuts into my skin and says: “see, this is love, this is my love”. and i said “okay baby”. and she cuts into my skin again and says: “this is love, i was taught that love hurts.” “i was taught this love by my father”. “he taught me when he beat my mother”. “don't you love my love honey?”. and i said “sure, its great”. and i sat there, for a few months and she carved her love into my bones. and i sat there, thinking about home and food and my guitar. all the while she would carve and say “you'll never find better love than this” “you'll never find better love than this”.

starman

look, listen. you will see in time. the best thing i did for you was leave. you already know this, perhaps. you see, its true, its true. i am a star on its last legs. no one should reach for me, anymore. and i shouldn’t let them. put down your arms, put down your arms. look, listen, there’s another. brighter. bigger. women, or man. today the cross bears more than it can. this will never be your fight, go onto another. leave on the light.

seasons

even the seasons are fucked. they neither walk in gently nor do they remain steady. the moon and the spirit wane. the heart trembles as it waits in silence. notes begun are scrunched and discarded. how we ache for the things we got used to. how we ache for seasons that wake soft and walk steady. we blink through days and swallow nights and the spirit and the moon wane and sing. we are nested in wisdom now tossed to the floor.

we are vested deeply in patience for this. we take notes on hope- and hope on these. and feed the unsaid to hungry stars.

collaboration with poet & painter Joseph M. Lopez @J.l.writer. 25-06-21

whiskey river

The river, like the bar Is full of driftwood — floating. The road to self destruction Was paved by the God's of pleasure And it's end is laden With angels of death.

Choked

She said she wants me to fuck her with my boots on. To hold her hands above her Head with one of my own. So she can finish By the time of the afternoon sun And lay in it's golden light engulfed in the adolescence Of it's descent Through the billowing smoke Of choked winter chimneys. Past the murky lense Of her bedroom window.

Winter has fallen but she Is warm.

g.j.u

a poem for the bartender

through the amber rush the hum of a thousand words you prevail. through the twilight night of the last shining star the wind fills your sail and there in its breath you are the constant the heart of Venus with a warm aching smile that begins and ends in love.

i. the cross

i burn hot

the mind twists and contorts.

today the cross weighs more

than it bares.

King George did this on one lung.

i can do it on two.

peace

when you master the mind and find your peace inside then everything becomes exquisite.

peace nor freedom is found in herb nor amber luck

peace is kept within under the wagging of a chin that doesn't stop. below, in the chest. there- in there. in your heart, peace waits. it unfolds itself, at the end of the outward breath. catch it and begin.