Haiku

Two, young and trendy

One, in his hand a chap stick

London’s air strips him

 

Londoners look grim

Hurrying impatiently

Life’s relentless grind

 

Death message by text

Unfinished business by choice

A revengeful death

 

Long travelled marble

Re-used again and again

His curves adorn it

 

Skin so very soft

Indian hands my friends says

Caresses I seek

 

The mind understands

My heart and soul embraces

Polyamory

 

Gay patriarchy

Unless proven otherwise

Exclusionary

 

Grow a big strong heart

Be as you wish to be seen

Loving keeps me sane

 

If your plan a fails

There’s 25 more letters

Trees stand, and let go

 

Seeking the Stone Age

Youthful feet chase Pokémon

The tide turns again

 

Fleeing refugees

The boy sits in bloodied shock

To have lived through this

 

At the grocer’s shop

I was the English grandson

Apples torn in half

 

Mint imperials

From tall jars on high shelves

My grandmothers treat

 

Patience by gas light

Blue pipe smoke, tales of New York

Bluebottles and wasps

 

Fun filled long summers

An old quarry, rough playground

Blacks mad bull raging

 

Two communities

This man has no connection

A tree without roots

 

Curiosity

Fertile imaginings

Seeds carried far away

 

Reckonings of life

Lives, leaves carried on the breeze

Face it, don’t look back

 

The mind seeks answers

Souls crave loving nourishment

Carbon is inert

 

What is the spirit?

A thing we cannot behold

Childish innocence

 

My androgyny

Undifferentiated

Juxtaposition

 

Gender bending men

Male dominant narratives

An oxymoron

 

How men think they cope

Troubling masculinities

Find that inner child

 

I knelt beside them

Imagining their ardour

Consummated love

 

They fade, loose colour

Like the love they once shared

Memories echoed

 

Six dry red roses

Rest, abandoned with a view

Tokens left behind

 

Red love tokens rest

On the edge of an outlook

Faded, dry like life

 

I found love tokens

Resting, left behind, marking

And I thought of you

 

We miss each other

Dried petals connected me

Our love reaches out

 

They lay on the ledge

Once blood red, filled with sap

Now discarded, lost?

 

Six ruby red stems

Lie in winters decaying

Ashes long gone now

 

First, procreation

Then recreation, ah sex

So, concentration

 

Chit chit chit, a wren

Robin’s solo lullaby

Lavender browning

 

Days grow, short again

A last bloom of butterflies

Green nuts underfoot

 

Late summer echoes

Red laden hawthorn boughs bend

And the sun grows cold

 

Convicted eyes leer

Contemptuous of our stare

Menace, starkly bare

 

Shimmering moist

Love and joy swim openly

The stream flows through us

 

Love can suffocate

My world feels a lot smaller

Autumnal breezes

 

The black iris chills

Their rage enhanced

The fear is in them

 

Sex connects us all

I stopped validating him

Relationships lie

 

He has a presence

His eyes smile and that’s a gift

Him revealed by it

 

My world feels smaller

There is less connection now

Like a lone wether

 

Lost and found

Coveting and loving

We need to talk, men.

 

Timeless weathering

Grockling rocks at bloody bridge

Cascading chorus

 

An otter edges

Blends in spaces, affording

Safe passage beyond

 

A lonely leaf falls

In my solitude I grieve

For all loves lost leaves

 

He said he loved me

Now he says he needs space

Driftwood & solitude

 

Heartbreaking is real

Heart aching physical pain

Separation hurts

 

Standard

Do you want cream with that?

A full carton of whole milk

Landed on the road as we arrived

With a dusting of window pane.

There was shouting, and then

A ramekin of jam followed.

Our presence is declared

We climb the stairs.

The flat’s kitchen is in disarray.

Two men sit at the kitchen table.

A, ‘fuck yous anyway’ indicates

Another in the room above.

He is sitting on the bed naked,

A tea towel covering his,

Embarrassment. Rocket

(Because we are all known

By our nicknames) edges the cloth

Up to ‘check’ for injury.

There, slightly the worse for wear

A Pavlova sits perched or impaled,

Hard to say now, the crisp

Outer is cracked and broken

And the soft marshmallow centre exposed.

 

You want cream with that mate? my colleague

Asked, I turned, beating a hasty retreat.

 

 

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Love Hurts

It must have been some party,

Chairs overturned

A window or two lying

out on the lawn,

a disarray of bottles

and life’s accumulated

possessions.

‘No nothing wrong here

Just people going a bit wild,

Sorry for any upset

To others, really

Nothing to see here.’

 

A friend intervenes

with words of

desperate concern.

 

The bruises to her torso

Are revealed reluctantly,

where hidden, is an amalgam

of so much violence.

A canvass of yellow and blue,

black and purple.

He was an artist

of such passion and

careful design and detail.

Well practiced, brutally

honest and focused.

Relying on his muses

capacity to suffer.

 

And she had

she did

She would.

 

 

 

 

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The Dancer

A blank, pert canvass,

Save for that studded collar

And….. striking tattoo.

Pink rose petals surround

Two bold boots, alone

In the spotlight; calling?

Ballet tights envelop

Strong, thick legs,

Pumps slide on

Studded black cuffs,

Challenge.

A gimp mask and white pants

Complete the arrayal.

A horny prince scampers,

Strikes a pose.

The boots remain,

Silent but calling.

Flat against the wall

Posing like some punter

In a basement bar,

Graceful but desiring.

No less, and

No more masculine.

A man torn for

 A moment of freedom.

Boots on, tights off

Tights on, boots off

All off

He falls, and rises

And rolls, sweats sheen

Smears, as

Crawling, naked,

The leather boots

 Are licked.

Moistened, left

Glistening like,

An obsidian cock.

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