bed and.....
in someone else?s
i awoke,
late one evening.
memory door remained locked,
no key.
white becomes blue room,
clear firmament.
had slept by sunset sky : filtering through curtains ajar,
glaring through my fluffed vision.
awakened by purple moon.
rising, clouds d r i f t e d,
memory was a inflating balloon given form by morning passing,
fogged light, yellow ray
dancing on
my pin iris.
my hands were stained ochre,
my stomach an acidic pit.
i raised my heavy head from a grey pillow,
and leaving a sweaty face imprint.
neurosis like a ringing glass rim echo.
my eyes wide awake,
my mind surprised.
i saw
breathing sheets undulating like a gentle sea.
i found
spirit dregs in the back of my mouth,
my company incompatible with my memory,
the nausea a wailing baby. the wake-up call:
i lied that night, i had vapor-lust.
now
i lay beside a woman.
implosive guilt
unraveled
and
discarded
like a droplet
by
her blue bell face.
©Stewart Tunnicliff
Beached.
We stand on the shore.
Waiting for the tide to cry,
for the passing of time,
for water to wash over the grime
collected in the cracks of our shattered self.
A return to health
And what is known.
It is shown in the falling light
of a sunset.
What is yet and still not
Been or we have forgot
the pull of the Moon.
Come up too soon
when drowning because we swim
against the breaking waves.
Wish to raise like the sun rising,
Only to fall from wisdom melting
like wax dripping
from our fragile wings.
We return to lie on the shore,
Breathless and more??
©Stewart Tunnicliff
the big in the tiny.
The child holds out her hand.
I see the openness in this gesture.
I see the beaming face.
I see the smile in her eyes.
I see the delight at the colors of the waiter?s uniform.
I see the fragile strength of the young.
I see the compassion of her hugs.
I see what she gives, and receives.
I see her small hearted laughter at her cartoon food.
I see a smart appearance. The care of devoted parents.
I see the differing looks of strangers. As am I.
I see the pleasure she projects onto others.
I see her trailing of the rain on the inside of the café window.
I see the great works of an active mind.
I see the dreams, drifting unformed. Visions to create.
See beyond the chair, and the motionless body, to the potential of an able person.
©Stewart Tunnicliff
Heart of Darkness
tooled up to tha teeth.
Give it up!
Still lookin fa a fuck, a ruck, an a roll,
tho no longer on the dole.
Got a new deal, in the shitty schemes.
Na stealin others dreams and things.
Everythin´s old hat.
Ex Pitta pat.
What the fuck if Phat?
Who the fuck ya lookin at.
Everythin´s new an improved,
im y 1oth floor, 10 by 10, tenement flat.
Who sez ya can´t hear the screams,
when ya squashed in liek sardines.
A has ma bevvy, ma Becks, ma Bensons, an
ma Burns fa the tunes.
An room fa a bird who goes good an soon
after a want´s to watch tha footy.
As not in to that smooty, smoochy shit.
When ya a hit, ya know what it means;
A shag piece to break in the new jeans
and then up t town t get smashed
with the lads.
Everythin else is pants an fads.
When ya got a leary, no one squares up t me.
Ya´ll see what it is to be.
A white fist breakin inta tha heads of darkies.
©Stewart Tunnicliff
Legend passed.
A blood tarnished broadsword and battered shield lie in a lost tomb.
The knight?s now wear their shields on their chests.
A club emblem replaces their breast plate.
A black band is worn like a Queen?s ribbon, round the arm.
Shirts and shorts their battle dress.
Shin pads their rusty spurs.
A match their honor fight.
The pitch their battlefield.
The defense their armour.
The strike force attack the back four like the siege on an enemies castle.
A pass replaces a parry.
A dribble and tackle is foot work
like fray and clash of metal was sword play.
A foul is a black knight?s deed.
A red card is banishment, like Lancelot, to the tunnel.
A free kick like a lance in a joust:
Breaks through the wall, knocking the champions off their steed.
A shot cuts into the net like a blade into a foe?s chest.
The shout of female fans is the siren of modern damsels.
Feet wound supporter?s pride.
Knights no more.
Teams fall through the divisions
like Kingdoms through history.
Blood is spilt but no men fill the open graves.
