Faces and Bodies

If we’re to deal in appearances
I ought to turn over my skin and prepare for public appeal.
When you ask me why bother to scrutinize the meal
I shall reply "to make sure it pulls no dirty tricks" and you’ll see no reason
To pound each limb hard to tight perfection
Is of course more valuable than beauty in the poem
Because to the figure you can respond
Whilst the concept is obsolete.


A million opportunities made available to submit and subscribe
Joining in on a run, no sight of the start or the ever increasing end.
Demand money for the word do you?
But I’ve never been paid in the first instance
And have only found aesthetic as tender.


When my body is used up
I have nothing left for which you’ll stay-
But then bank on your face in a league of faces
And you’ll bear but a photograph,
More worthless than a barter.


Keep quiet in the corner until your number’s up
Leave your books behind until your five minutes are up
They’ll hold you in contempt,
These representatives holding themselves in authority for everyone to see
I shall hold myself in contempt
For failing at the obvious
A phoney, a fraudster at which stage do I deserve divine right?
I’m just a face and a body-
In a sea of faces and bodies.

The Truth

In your arms I missed myself
Your kind of warm was getting cold
Talking words that make no sense
Just empty lines of brand nonsense
Manmade morals you twist to fit
And after the deal you made of it
No wonder I can’t raise a brow
It’s no wonder that I can’t relate
No sense of real, no sense of fake
The unobservant nod and smile
Foreign tender, rags to riches
Language barrier, the British guile.
The tradesman deals in empty contracts
Verbal treaties, hollow deals
Vacant small talk breaks the silence
Breaks my heart, the futile gag
Raise the issue and channel thinking
Only a moron dismisses that.


The sad ratio numbers clearly
The sum of wastage, the sum of fear
The heart pounded at the vulnerability
Pushed sweat to the skin forcing out the crime
As if the body was betraying it’s own nervous system
By choosing the right words at the peril of anothers' impression
Their perception as a crutch,
Retrievable at any moment upon hearing the wrong combination.


The truth is detriment my dear,
Why use it against yourself?

The Door is Swinging in the Wind

Fear of the future, froze the past.
We’re each thrown off the tangent trying to pinpoint exactly where we are
And who are we?
Futile and mangled individuals, dragging our heals through the sand
Watch you don’t catch the glass, buried where you least expected it
If you cut yourself again you may slip in the blood
Who’s blood, does it stain your hand?
The responsibility of another will see you fade away.
And then where will you dwell?
Can pick a hiding place in the masquerade ball, but don’t forget your masque
If they refuse you entry then you’ll face the dismantling rejection of the world at your feet.


You could try my arms again,
See if they can hold off the problem you found the last time you were there.
But this time is different because it is your will
The sermon of your own game.
How one mood can alter lives my friend
Like the past, present and future all in one room
Something locked up in the cupboard, forgotten
Not good enough for display


You’ve been haunting me, and I’ve long not believed in ghosts
Almost as abstract a notion as the human being
Perhaps a photograph can hold you, stop you degrading as fast as you do
To take a camera to you, an intrusive misadventure
You move so quickly from my room anyway, you exist in some distant month
I encroached on your space, I found the covers to be cold



What a substitute for loneliness, a beautiful fix for a time-
You were surely born for my mattress,
Leave your clothes and remnants from the outside world at the side
Your identity is here, beauty in the bed.
But I love you in your absence, so make my acquaintance at the door
I can never ask the questions, they’re all too intrusive
I cannot speak so loud, the door will end up swinging in the wind