Substation

Substation

Substation

listen;
the hum of it,
the ‘innocent,
kill you in an instant’ hum,
it’s a plaything,
a temptation,
an outstretched arm
a burn like no other
raw power within distance
it’s best to ignore
but there’s nothing you can do,
go run to your parents
if you know where they are,
do you know where they are
can you see anything,
but me?

Posted by jason in Poetry
Tomorrow

Tomorrow

Tomorrow

The mist, a hanging web
on which a thousand breaths
will pull and tear and form.
In the field of dew
you’re there,
hushed, yet still
bewitched, the thrill of light
caress.

Tomorrow, I will come and
be with you.
Drink and eat whilst
the gentle roll and move
will lull, will keep me
with drowsy sleep
and sweet,
scented air.

Through windows washed
I dream.
My eyes and mind escape to where
you stream and live.

Posted by jason in Poetry
Reason

Reason

stopped in a quiet place
nature’s soon forgotten
there’s a reason I am here

perhaps it’s simply not to be
anywhere else…

her mind it works so slowly
and maybe in a month or unfriendly year
it might just come to me

come to be

Posted by jason in Poetry
Then He Walks Away

Then He Walks Away

Then He Walks Away

he stops to speak to me,
and were it not for the glass
between us,
we would understand

and I think he’s happy,
he could be hungry
or just a day away
from breaking down.

so I look for the hinges
but there are none,
we are stuck in our space
I try to explain but he can’t hear

~then he walks away~

Posted by jason in Poetry
Hard To Write Of Love

Hard To Write Of Love

Hard To Write Of Love

It’s hard to write of love,
Cumbersome to think of such uncertainty,
Yet so bloody glorious.

Elation,
Fulfilment,
Denial in the face of understanding.

This path is no longer straight,
No longer the singular focus
Of my own attention.

If life is short,
Love’s shorter still,
I’ll wait awhile and bathe within.

And should she ever know,
And should she ever love me back,
Then watch out world.

Posted by jason in Poetry
Overstretched

Overstretched

Overstretched

I brought the bough;
within the sand it lay
and whilst the moon lit us
I wondered whether it may catch aflame…
Sand in toes,
not as soft as you may hope
yet as we spoke
I brushed them clean,
and laughed at washed up
drunk brown bottles…
My lungs breathed so deep
it was as if
they were overstretched.

Posted by jason in Poetry
Brownian Emotions

Brownian Emotions

Brownian Emotions

The rain plays with
subtle drops
above distracted minds;
the cars pass close
the windows up
the onlookers; out-lookers
refocusing in-between each swish
swish.
No children half wearing rain coats,
stepping over cracks,
to break their bubble,
holidays have kept them inside
leaving just the walkers,
quiet, not so quiet.

Work is forward,
homes behind,
but here in the middle
anything can happen.
Particles,
a few hundred million,
bustling, jiggling,
Brownian emotions,
waiting for the first move,
whose move?
I pass before the resolution,
the swish of the wipers
wiping their image,
maybe it was nothing,
maybe it’s just the rain
on the window…

Posted by jason in Poetry
Split Seconds

Split Seconds

Split Seconds

If I were a thief, I think
I’d steal your heart
keep it in a pearl
hung from a chain,
and wear it all the day.

If I were a thief, I think
we’d have stood a chance,
but as I stand here now,
I open stupid hands
and let you fall.

Posted by jason in Poetry
Four Hours Sleep

Four Hours Sleep

Four Hours Sleep

four hours sleep
still too much
eyes heavy for the morning
hear the house slowly stretch
foundations start to change
from the bed,
the lights still growing,
ceiling faces seem to smile,
four hours sleep
and beside me
miraculously
she’s still there.

Posted by jason in Poetry
Hearts in the Sky

Hearts in the Sky

Hearts in the Sky

I threw her my heart,
just threw it hard as I could,
and like a lantern
caught in the breeze,
it was taken away.

This heart, no longer mine,
up in the air
noticeable,
yet not so noticeable.
And the days,
sometimes they took it far away,
and others nearer than I dared to think,
or look;
or let myself imagine.

Look up,
there are hearts in the sky all the time…

Then one stormy night,
I told her what I’d done
so she wouldn’t be afraid,
should she look up,
see it silhouetted in the moon.

And for the longest time I thought it lost,
a dream, a silly dream,
and I acted so;
acted so it hurt;
so it hurt to smile.

But love is a funny thing,
a powerful, funny thing,
that one day isn’t there,
and one day is,
like a lantern in the sky.
And have you ever heard the story,
of the girl who dared look up
lift her arms, and
like a fairytale
hold a heart so close?

Let me whisper this…

If hearts are to be caught,
they have to be thrown,
thrown as hard and fast as they can,
and if this is done, if they catch on chaotic winds,
they stand the smallest chance
the slightest chance.

But, of course, this smallest,
slightest chance,
is sometimes all they need.

Posted by jason in Poetry