Sunday, 18 October 2009
in her spider web larynx.
That final scream is snared,
woven into a lace labyrinth.
She is suspended
in a ghastly, gargoyle nightmare.
Scared, her metronome accelerates.
Stare into a macabre eclipse.
Sprawling shadows awaken,
Crawling up white walls,
Creeping across creaking floorboards.
Adrenaline rushes through manikin limbs
Her lungs burn with muted screams.
The bed sheets bind her down
with the weight of a million fears,
left at the mercy of the incubus.
A shadow noose clasps her neck
As she gasps for breath.
And in a flash she awakens
Her skeleton aching.
The shadows retreat into a dark corner
Lying in wait.
With cheeks on porcelain seats
Whilst body heat seeps from smiles.
From tall we fall and regress into foetal stains
Veiled in shame.
The same souls glide outside
Flush! The u-bend swallows my pride.
Shudder in cold piss puddles, bewildered, befuddled
With single ply sheets laid out mattress like
The cubicle thuds, blood smeared lullabies
Paralysed fingertips, paralysed minds.
Paralysed smiles, let me sleep for a while
There is no admission to my cubicle domicile.
The train sighs, lurching to a halt
Platform crowds swell and pulse.
Get caught in a rook, rucksack on back,
Vying for the last remaining seat.
The carriage reeks of piss and antiseptic.
The train clears it’s throat, grunts
And jumps, shunts into life.
Anonymous landscapes rush by in a smudge.
Canals, warehouse and chimneys bleed into scenes of sunbleached grass and cattle.
The reek of manure seeps in through the doors.
Pass train boneyard, the breathy horn blasts,
The air gasps as a city bound train speeds past.
In the distance a freight train rolls by and by and by...
And I forge my way back.
Back to the slagheaps,
Back to mundanity.
Back to the shipyards,
Back to insanity.
She slithers from countless rivers
giving of life and death masterly,
A mighty serpentine liquid tapestry.
She carries us vessels as we roam,
foam trailing our aberrant voyage.
Our boat’s bow crashes through wake,
which leaps, clinging to the air like midsummer sleet.
Breathless, no one speaks.
En masse we ponder, our virgin eyes wander,
tracing images of thatched bamboo villages
where diligent villagers labour.
We inhale and savour the moment.
She takes us through cryptic waterfalls, fountains
and vast smoke topped mountains
that leer over us immense
from dense fertile canopies of lilac and green.
We helter skelter her vascular curves,
swerving flocks of emerging rocks,
bulbous, like the heads of bathing hippopotamus.
The jungle flotsam dances, chancing currents
Before getting swallowed into her muddy surges
emerging breathless from the merkiness,
surplus to her ferocious thirst.
The humble coffee grind verges collapse as we pass
and tumble into the percolating mocha waters.
Camouflaged spies peer as us queer passersby,
with our peculiar features and our alien eyes.
Rising on the horizon
we see hives of corrugated iron shacks
and primitive huts,
sat at the foot of mother nature’s bust.
On approach our engine splutters and cuts,
the rudder adjusts.
And we twist and drift, with a knock,
into the embrace of her floating bamboo dock.
We have arrived.
Drawn in by dancing Palace sprites,
That buzz with delight by starless night.
They survey a myriad of bumbling drunks
Who down their ale and stumble from clubs.
They sway, crisscrossing the rivers of spray
That slither beneath Mancunian Way.
They sail beneath bold rattling tracks,
the freight nymph dances with a flash
sprinting the vine of cable thread
that dissects the night sky overhead.
Gluts of ciggie butts lie in the gutters,
Drunkards splutter on Topshop’s shutter.
Hairy fairies getting quite contrary
Knocking back shots, the surly get lairy.
Chants and screams vociferously erupt
And ricochet through red brick viaducts.
Stagger through blaggers veiled in thicket,
“Ay ar mate, dya need a ticket?”
No response, bus coughs n takes its leave
As drunks heave and weave into the urban eve.