Wednesday, 22 June 2011
For us there will be no statues
No one will compose a symphony,
For us there will be no 21-gun salute
No one will tell any stories.
Friday, 10 June 2011
You sit and smile
At people smiling at you
Watching your own reflection
In the coffee shop window.
Your chattered-out thoughts
Are the obnoxious nuisance
That cigarette smoke used to be
Just without the health warning.
Each motion seems full of ease
Although it’s really just you preening
An image so perfectly crafted
But just like the froth in your cup.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
This is the land of the lonely
Where time is not a transient thing,
It’s carved and stacked into walls
Covered with lists of what might have been.
Our last resort is every breath
Every look like the twist of a knife,
Our worst is what you’d call your best
And whatever it is we’re living it isn’t life.
It’s not the stars by which we set our course
But nothing given substance by our thoughts,
And the night is not dark when the sun sets
Just full of words that haven’t been spoken yet.