difference

The difference between want & need

there are times I need a beer

but don’t necessarily

want one

missed out on ice cream

when I wanted one

ended by eating my cone

when I needed

& it was not the same

I’ve made love when I wanted to

had sex when I needed to

& these definitely are not the same

I’ve wanted love

needed love

& love is always more satisfying to enjoy

when being wanted

than needed

The times of braincells

rattling down the back of my neck are fewer

because I stay away from you

cash stays in my pockets

and out of your favourite bars

ditto

frost cold mornings

bled head in hands

the wondering of why o. f.  why

scratches and wounds

breakages and spills

torn stockings

ripped underwear

once sleeved shirts

absence not growing fonder

‘phone numbers from strangers

looks to kill

images skewering love

white horses under princes

If I could hold your hand now

where would I lead

down into darkness

or up to light?

horizontal once more

bent against trees

curled to warmth

open to sun

perhaps

wrapped tight in movement

held in fierce arms

lips locked and sucking

while

soft crushes hard

wet defeats dry

and

only your hand can pull

me to safety

from the surf

of a once love

There are enough implications

consequences

in the words of my baby

to hold me down

for the next few centuries

but now she’s forgot

and moved on

to “Time to let Go”

thru’ the wire of careless indignation

on pages and the lips of friends

a rustling autumn of relationship

I sense her circling the city

never having had a sense of direction

wanting to find me

destroy me

kill me perhaps

with carefully chosen

artfully formed phrases

choosing them to fall instead

from those rustling

whispering lips of others

knowing that she cannot

lacking the grace

perform the surgery herself

and those in masks

too ennobled in faux dignity

and stupidity

to recognise

that words spoken words

foul deeds carried out

on behalf of for another

are but sweaty

low exercises in cowardice

Somewhere a death ray

my morning companion

no longer wakes me

pushing into the mattress

maybe a melancholy thinking

there is no one I want

to do it to or with anyways

does it, did it ever

matter?

& somewhere her death ray

has finally gotten through

this radiant charm cloud

offensive air of fuckoff’ness

surrounding in sweet cocoon

she said she’d kill

though I thought of that as words

& last I looked they’d bounced off

to join hands with the others

in a dozy does’y doe can’t hurt polka

maybe this time she has joined

with the other witches, bitches

& their combined death rays have created

a super spray gun of misandrist miasma

creating this mood of melancholy

time to roll over in the fug of warmth

pull the covers over

let the death ray bounce off the bed head

cast a bed protection spell

& send the poison back threefold

Punish

there are of course endless varieties

people wanting to punish

silence

withdrawal

anger

& I can’t be doing with

creating a full list

you no doubt have your favourites

& me I left mine on the train

when they get too busy to see me

forget to drop a line

I give a silent thank you

to the universe

for those who weed themselves out

of my bother pool

leaving more time for us

those left to bother with

to be friends together

who understand life is precious

short

& I’m so very pleased

you won’t be wasting

my mind

today

or any other day

hook of sigh

It was always love

each time I took the look

hook of sigh across the room

big eyes & smiles

that would come my way

could this be the one

who will stay?

& some were love

for a little while

others more than a day

& each one gave something

a piece of them to me

adding up to more

than I used to be

& in hope

they took something away

besides the disappoint

hurt I wasn’t to be

the one for them

shadows on the wall

I needed a piss

& being in the middle of nowhere

I pissed between the bikes

& he got all upset

it was over his precious bike

explanation nor apology

would cut it

as he began to square up

are you fucking serious?

I asked, all incredulous

he was a pretty college boy

playing at being biker boyz

on a bike his folks had paid for

when he graduated

from some good school

I was waiting for his fists to come up

I’d sidestep him kick his knee out

& improvise from there

yeah, ok, man, he went

just don’t do it again right?

trying to place emphasis

& that coming out in all the wrong places

I knew then we’d never be friends again

he didn’t like what I might do

& I didn’t like what he couldn’t

the real reason was over some woman

he wanted, didn’t want him

& I’d squeezed her for a while

before letting her go

he told people later

I was too casual with life

would spoil nice things

& of course I asked them

are you fucking serious?

I was dying

back then

stuck in a paying job

where I hated them

almost

if not quite

as much as they hated me

idiots always do that shit better

& I could feel the cold chasing me

so low I couldn’t cry

for who needs that?

I climbed the hill to look out

sat on a rock

saw all the beauty

surrounding me

tinged with grey

colours all flat

seeping out at the edge

& my friend who died from a heart attack

had told me

that creeping gloom

is symptom of a lack of oxygen

good blood being pumped around

by your failing heart

which if enlightening as truth

was hardly lifting the mood

& then a butterfly

crept into my vision

fluttering from left to right

up & down all over

& I forgot me for a few seconds

to watch the show

it came closer

closer still

then landed on my nose

& I don’t care

who you are

how low you can go

I’ll take a bet

it is harder to be down

with a butterfly on your nose

going all out cross eyed

to try & get a better look

What are you reading?

he asks all innocent

knowing my answer as ever

I find it hard to find anything

nowadays

that I’m prepared to give up good time for

my people are not in books

we never have good wars

don’t have writersblock

while being unfaithful to winter brides

live safe middle class lives

upturned by a casual slight

some summer garden romance

where people speak in exposition

angst is heavy all the time

or meet understanding publishers at parties

our arcs are pissing against walls

the ever increasing futility of it all

where we grab onto what we can

holding out against the shit that happens

trying to make a living with few skills

even less interest in loving the dead end

if you can find me a modern writer

can make something of all that

I’m in line at the bookshop

he sighs, looking into middle distance

I meant did you read the stuff I sent?

& I’d hoped that by saying all of this

he’d pick up he had nothing to offer me

again

the one

It was always love

each time I took the look

hook of sigh across the room

big eyes & smiles

that would come my way

could this be the one

who will stay?

& some were love

for a little while

others more than a day

& each one gave something

a piece of them to me

adding up to more

than I used to be

& in hope

they took something away

besides the disappoint

hurt I wasn’t to be

the one for them