Thursday, 14 July 2011

Murdoch Mystery

Portrayed persona you see
I tell you what i'd like you to know
sometimes i don't tell you what id like you to know
but just to ensure that you know it,
ill curl my lip
ill round my shoulders
ill jerk my hips
but you'll know what i want you to know 
amidst the smoke on the dance floor,
blaring though the PA
ill make sure my intent is portrayed
by the way i sip my rum
you'll know what i want you to know

but what of the rest of me
the world i cannot describe
what of the world that is not even mine
for that i cannot claim to know
the location of its key
what of the smile that only the mirror sees
the me that changes night by night
in flighty dreams
in nightmares
the person of the interior
that has privilege to swear
and behave like an oaf
what of that person
may he not swill in a trough behind closed doors
may he not fuck in the quiet of the barn
ill not tell you of much of me
maybe most on somedays
the days when i am most interior
when i am most the smoke of my cigarette
whispering into the night
into the morning and then the afternoon
and day again
the days when my shadow is more myself
than my lips
may i not have my days in the shade?

must i relinquish the innards of my eyelids?
must you see the pinky flesh next my bones?
is it not enough to know that it is the same colour as yours?
that i am made of the same truths and the same lies?
that my bones are ground by the same fallacies?
must you gather my footsteps 
to the extent that i can no longer bear to tread?

when in truth my innards are something only i can touch
when in truth my innards will always cause me more confusion
than anything else in this life
when in truth if truth can be squeezed from my soul
it will reveal life to me and only me

have my lips
my thighs
my hands wrapped around you

In truth my innards are not under lock and key
but they can truly only be seen by me.

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

3 Friends, 3 Enemies

Big, brown, beautiful and burst,
You reside in the house of a friend.
I sink slowly into you 
As my eyes roll back and I seek oblivion.
Cracked leather tickles my fingers,
gives me pleasure.
Constant creaking under me 
As I shift and jig on top of you.
How many secrets do you know?
Has a fancy of mine indulged on top of you?
You groan at chewing gum which falls from my mouth and coats your skin.
I stare at it blankly then forget it
And continue swilling beer from a can before i beg:
Release me my taxi fare home old and dear confidant of mine?

Royal blue, regal yellow,
How majestic you are in comparison to me,
The greying lump that mounts you with great force.
I weep and see your distinguished figure crushed by my indignation to rise.
Your grandeur becomes sodden with sweat,
How ghastly this scene has become,
A turd on a sliver platter.
Still your great arms almost hug me
As I hold on tight and wait for the morning.
Violent shakes and blurts of my insides
Do their best to make you look ironic.
I roll off and you slowly puff out to your original beauty,
I neglect to thank you for your patience.

Your attributes almost entirely hidden
By knitted blankets of
Red, green, yellow, blue, pink, white, purple, black.
Under the woolen mantle,
As well as me,
Lies your dark wooden structure
and adornments of pale green with embroidered flowers.
Again I'm a slump and again I make you look ironic,
I seem to mock those flowers
As they do everything they can to be sweet.
My nails cut into you without pity,
You are stoic and support me regardless.
If you were wise and really cared
You'd spring into action and see me on my way.
But why should you care,
When I just trickled Irn Bru down your side
With no intention of clearing it up.