The Geranium Hotel Poems

I will keep this poem simple For all you poetic fools I was somewhere in Africa In a hotel without ghosts Death looked down From his balcony He was cool, blue eyes, and bald I stood beside a pool without water Looking at him on the seventh floor I had a hundred american dollars And a book of american poems He knew what I was looking for I did not understand what he saw Maybe he had a woman naked on his bed Sipping her tea or sucking pomegranate seed Behind me I knew was a continent Full of assumption and age About to be consumed by my own desire To see where history started (Yet I find myself becoming abstract) I turned my vision from death And turned it to the sky The weavers were silent The Stalks sat sighing on the roof An iron bar that held up a burnt light Was their perch They did not have a master Yet they knew that I was there They knew the blood that was in me Was tasty and full of spice They knew my heart was traditional And my ribcage made of go...

I walked into the room while thinking of our little story I should have written it down If only on my stain covered sleeve I should have turned it into a song And whistled it to the wind You seemed to have it transcribed onto a look An expression close to criminal intent A cross between lust and hate and docile integrity It's a joke I suppose, left out to sprout in the sun There was a way I could have left Yet no way out but through that door Its like trying to understand why a smell reminds you of love Why a certain pair of eyes reminded you of night Is it cruel to give someone else Your love? It was built for You, it has Your dedication written on the title page But You shall not receive The lost mention of the peppermint grind Your eyes were so dark all I could see were the reflections of the street lamps It will be your story I carry Though I know someone else will get to hear the ending I was just the start Though I did give you courage To walk through th...

The shadow that leaks from the open fly The denim is stiff from too many drinks Spilt in the crotch of the whiskey husband And the floating applecores fly through the air Softening the ancient Skin that has been passed from the Romans Like a lesson learnt from history Your family tree carries nails in it's trunk And a young man with a deer horn knife has carved the initial of a man into the bark Not unlike the bark of a tree fallen on its side Somewhere in an August, Somewhere with horses in the night The vibrations are being strangled with the whiskey breath And all the stars are reflected in the fest drop of excitement You can smear it, you can taste it Sweeter than any sweet you can rot your teeth with And the mobile phones with all the friends Are merely the new notches on the butt of the flintlock pistol And the bruises next to the notch are the marks from the cane While the warm beer has been drunk and then sprayed all over the white moon To calm the mur...

Did you have your memory covered In a hundred white layers of snow? Would you be buried by an avalanche If I ran away to you If I ran back to you? I let my memory go to weeds The flowers died and blossoms withered I forgot about the bulbs I forgot about the summer I walked beneath the sweet cool elm Like one in which we climbed and kissed And my heart shuddered- grew warm again And those bulbs they grew They shot from the ground The weeds they withdrew and the flowers of your memory blossomed And I wanted to run away to you Back to you Are you who you used to be? Do you daydream about the closeness? About the Heroes and the Myths? About the centre of the world In which we stand O! have you changed? These memories haven't, tho numbed they've been I've missed you boy I've missed you And all I ask is think of me and let the avalanche fall Be crushed, be smothered! I will come and melt it all, I will find you I will warm you i...