Absentee

Dare to break the spell

Purge the myths

Where the words wallow so frequently, so easily, so secretly

Set up the clandestine meeting

In a matter of fact sort of way, no more to it than that, no false 

Expectations, no hidden agendas, no place for truth or beauty

A map of California stretches across the table top

Was this his destination? 

That shadow of a man, how imperceptibly we carry our shadows

Dare to break the spell

Purge the myths

Of the doubtful doubts of insincere, and secret, easy, re-creation

from 
Elbowed Out - Love of Listening to Michelangelo

Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Mounds

Eight minutes the difference

Maybe climb the hayrack

Sit in contemplation

Drink a settled pot of tea

Thousands of times upon the waking

In or out of halfway dreams, where

Could the bare breast have came from

Heaven it is, only to know

Extrapolations, spent-fuel

Misfired imaginations

Overheard presentation of

Tree lined incantations

A single star, in a sky

At once so far away

Before a slow red sunrise

Turns on the weary day

Plagued by indecision

Fearful of derision

Indebted to the men

Of youthful circumcision

All across the frost filled grounds

All the way to fanciful minds

Thoughts plaid full

To the brim of fair silken mounds

from 
Elbowed Out - Love of Listening to Michelangelo

Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Rough

I have killed

As a fifteen year old youth I worked in the local slaughter house, earning pocket money for the summer holidays, picking up enough cash for Friday nights at the YMCA. A discotheque where I splashed on Brut aux de cologne before it became a mass consumer commodity. I splashed on scent to cover up the stench of blood and sweat, and fear; the fear of the cornered sheep who knew, from the ambient noise and the putrid smell, that it's time would very soon be up.

My time also done. The highly flighty young girls entirely unimpressed with my disk jockey selections of Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa et al. They breezed off to more soulful & romantic liaisons; who knows even to find a little bit of rough.

Not that the rough boys ever worked the slaughterhouse; no, mostly the rough boys were cowards and bullies, synthetic tough guys with no real fibre or backbone, or steel in their makeup.

They were the sort of boys who worked best in gangs, or who took their strength from their weapons of choice. The sort of young men who might have tried it on with me, until they heard that already I was a killer

I had killed before

All of that was a long time ago. I only mention it now, as we collectively undress.

More as a point of disclosure, to let you know of what I was once capable. It took a while to learn to stand up to bullies. Perhaps less time to move on to the more expensive aromatics. I hope that gives you some certainty, perhaps increases your expectations, of my future intentions.

from 
Elbowed Out - Love of Listening to Michelangelo

Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Reclamation Yard

I could believe, if I wanted to, that with all those gulls in the silver, white and grey sky, then the sea could easily be over the horizon.

You might choose to share this thought-stream, from the evidence of your own personal vista. Pray tell of your unique, over the top dreams, themes, dramas, and convictions.

There are times when I could be embarrassed, there are occasions when I need to find a place to hide.

Not out here though, not beneath the bare trees that rest beside the canal, along the snow covered path, that might easily never end. 

You might choose to walk with me for a while, have fun seeing your own breath, inhale the smoke from the silage-stacked fires, and gaze down the endless corridor of limes.

There are those times when you may be embarrassed, those intemperate occasions, when you may need to find a place to hide.

from 
Elbowed Out - Love of Listening to Michelangelo

Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links

Highway

First the door

Then the carriage

From the almanac

Coupled in marriage

Rope filled thoughts 

Thoughts that ravage

Scavengers rustle

Down the unlit passage

An interior tussle

Dark with damage

All Freudian slips to

Psycho micromanage

Trips born in haste

Vain with baggage

Powdered tufts

Acrid as cabbage

from 
Elbowed Out - Love of Listening to Michelangelo

Christopher's Poetry collections can be found on iTunes and on Kindle by clicking the highlighted links