"I'LL BREACH YOU TOMORROW"
"I'm tired" he said
once again as he leaned his elbow on the stool
by breakfast.
Ignored he muttered something like
"I'll breach you tomorrow" quietly into his sugar puffs,
then, with that 12 hour work gait he finally reprieved himself up the stairs to bed.
It was in the shadows that I first pulled out of Victoria,
the sombre tones...
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"I'm tired" he said
once again as he leaned his elbow on the stool
by breakfast.
Ignored he muttered something like
"I'll breach you tomorrow" quietly into his sugar puffs,
then, with that 12 hour work gait he finally reprieved himself up the stairs to bed.
It was in the shadows that I first pulled out of Victoria,
the sombre tones...
Read More
rilee:
Thank you. More?
ANGEL ISLINGTON
I walkaway from the crowdless concert
where skinny boys in skinny jeans smoke,
and i smoke too
because I'm sad in old friends,
talking Belle and Sebastian
with another I no longer even have to leave behind.
After an awkward offering and a drink or two
the Favella on the Great Eastern Road
strikes up and I stumble in alone,
doubler rum blanc...
Read More
I walkaway from the crowdless concert
where skinny boys in skinny jeans smoke,
and i smoke too
because I'm sad in old friends,
talking Belle and Sebastian
with another I no longer even have to leave behind.
After an awkward offering and a drink or two
the Favella on the Great Eastern Road
strikes up and I stumble in alone,
doubler rum blanc...
Read More
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
gigondas:
Ever read London Fields?
gigondas:
I like to read several things at once as well. The only time I'm not is when something really grabs me.
As for my current reads:
As for my current reads:
FAITH ALONE IS NOT ENOUGH
Quilltippedinks broad and throat-like
spoke to the skin of papers
drafted in the monksssssleep of the Hague,
the careless meander of fingers
over bone shelves oily,
we palate a rapport from angel-fugs
rapturous in their delicate dischord,
splayed prayers woollenly deliver
sacrifice over the passive eyes
and lips
and chaps
and fashions of romance,
Parables of Mexican food
help us...
Read More
Quilltippedinks broad and throat-like
spoke to the skin of papers
drafted in the monksssssleep of the Hague,
the careless meander of fingers
over bone shelves oily,
we palate a rapport from angel-fugs
rapturous in their delicate dischord,
splayed prayers woollenly deliver
sacrifice over the passive eyes
and lips
and chaps
and fashions of romance,
Parables of Mexican food
help us...
Read More
RACH 3
'Enchanted soliloquies
echo brilliant in
the lowing raptures
of twilight.'
I pointed out
the portrait your father drew on your wall
as you sewed the buttons to my coat,
laying
half awake half of the day,
eating the blues and drinking the whisky
my muscles remember
even if the deposits of time since don't.
I no longer live on the Northern Line,
with...
Read More
'Enchanted soliloquies
echo brilliant in
the lowing raptures
of twilight.'
I pointed out
the portrait your father drew on your wall
as you sewed the buttons to my coat,
laying
half awake half of the day,
eating the blues and drinking the whisky
my muscles remember
even if the deposits of time since don't.
I no longer live on the Northern Line,
with...
Read More
DOWNTURN
Show creature's intent,
beckon taunt tannings
in the early throttles of sunrise,
dulcet groans in my quickening ear
stare down the parlour stars,
he wishes he knew if she had come
only to rattle
without a meep,
cold and outside on the downside
he sits
crouched sucking a cigarette
kicking vintage Cola bottles around the bins out back.
The freedom to obey holidays
slips...
Read More
Show creature's intent,
beckon taunt tannings
in the early throttles of sunrise,
dulcet groans in my quickening ear
stare down the parlour stars,
he wishes he knew if she had come
only to rattle
without a meep,
cold and outside on the downside
he sits
crouched sucking a cigarette
kicking vintage Cola bottles around the bins out back.
The freedom to obey holidays
slips...
Read More
shwitchblade:
for sure.
boobs are the bomb.
how are you
boobs are the bomb.
how are you
gigondas:
I'm good, man. Off to New York City in a few hours, my last trip before she moves here.
Which is cool and a little bit of a bummer.
The account here just...lingers. They'll catch on soon, I'm sure.
Still writing, writing, writing.
How are you? Still seeing London with different eyes?
Which is cool and a little bit of a bummer.
The account here just...lingers. They'll catch on soon, I'm sure.
Still writing, writing, writing.
How are you? Still seeing London with different eyes?
BLONDE
How hard it is to sit half hearted,
with a bottle of wine and glass open wide
we talked for a time,
eyes walking a line
as we laughed at the way we used to dance.
New Wave, an emboldening phrase
for the gutless and depraved,
more an enclave of the enslaved
than the better faith of a deadening smile
stroking across my face....
Read More
How hard it is to sit half hearted,
with a bottle of wine and glass open wide
we talked for a time,
eyes walking a line
as we laughed at the way we used to dance.
New Wave, an emboldening phrase
for the gutless and depraved,
more an enclave of the enslaved
than the better faith of a deadening smile
stroking across my face....
Read More
24/05/09
A day trip on the broken blue
slooping on a crest wave
in the imagination magazine glow of that woman next to me.
Funny how therapy makes me want to piss.
Births broken spokes and ragged hopes
finding fire in the ideas of an artless choir,
sung and hung by the funds of a viscount left in a funk
we cup her breasts as...
Read More
A day trip on the broken blue
slooping on a crest wave
in the imagination magazine glow of that woman next to me.
Funny how therapy makes me want to piss.
Births broken spokes and ragged hopes
finding fire in the ideas of an artless choir,
sung and hung by the funds of a viscount left in a funk
we cup her breasts as...
Read More
gigondas:
I love this one.
WAR WIDOW
Delightful guile illuminates the smile
in the graceful eyes of your body's most recent reveille,
Lighting the way to the trail
of the midday marches with the fairground trade,
smithy laid baskets of bread made
in wholewheat and pine wood nails.
The missed harvest of an angel's belief
divined in cottages amongst angular Snowden's contoured reliefs.
Aquiline water tethered in kicks of hair...
Read More
Delightful guile illuminates the smile
in the graceful eyes of your body's most recent reveille,
Lighting the way to the trail
of the midday marches with the fairground trade,
smithy laid baskets of bread made
in wholewheat and pine wood nails.
The missed harvest of an angel's belief
divined in cottages amongst angular Snowden's contoured reliefs.
Aquiline water tethered in kicks of hair...
Read More
The Best Of Pride
The first of the pride sleeps,
always the first to lay down alms
at the end of the row.
Passing florets of Collette's
little blue flowers flowering just a little blue,
just a little too late.
Useful lips in a swaying clinch,
that last inch between the kiss
became the breath of breaking health seconds before relief.
Listening to the afternoon...
Read More
The first of the pride sleeps,
always the first to lay down alms
at the end of the row.
Passing florets of Collette's
little blue flowers flowering just a little blue,
just a little too late.
Useful lips in a swaying clinch,
that last inch between the kiss
became the breath of breaking health seconds before relief.
Listening to the afternoon...
Read More
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
gigondas:
Oi vey.
huck:
hey man, 'twas a good night for sure. good to see you, tho we should do it again soon where there's more room for some proper pissed up chat!
DISARMS
Resetting bones on a tiger's palm
we touch the flat edge of the mirrored sabre
upon the supple serpent,
the supine answer upon milk-ed skin.
The sacred prayer of legs parted
soothes dreams put to test
down crumpled bed sheets,
the rain running ruin over mid-May,
Plying wine into the fearful scopes
of a hunter,
brought to bare
on the sacrificial sights of a...
Read More
Resetting bones on a tiger's palm
we touch the flat edge of the mirrored sabre
upon the supple serpent,
the supine answer upon milk-ed skin.
The sacred prayer of legs parted
soothes dreams put to test
down crumpled bed sheets,
the rain running ruin over mid-May,
Plying wine into the fearful scopes
of a hunter,
brought to bare
on the sacrificial sights of a...
Read More