The Geranium Hotel Poems

The spine was broken Pages fell like tears to the floor The title page was written on The dedication was flawed Rotten fruit still smells edible Love songs may be out of key The night may be clothed in black Let's turn the light on to see A man he shared my double bed He got tangled in the sheets When he awoke hard and naked He realised he was me Teenagers they buy diamonds The elderly buy hour glasses Sweet young girls let me shake their hands The boys, I fuck their arses When you split a peach in half And find the marzipan in side You sell it to an arab And then you sell the hide Oh ego you are my crown Eagle you are my compass Oasis palm you are my staff Would I be destined to come last? I grabbed the screaming lamb I strangled it and cooked it on the fire I prayed to Juno and to the whore Dessert was the vulture upon the wire As I stabbed the crackling flesh With an erotic silver spoon I felt a slight electric shock...

Every step is a shock like a thought the colour of you A soldier searching and a fool fighting 'The knowledge is a cultural confusion' Bah! my grandfather would not have let me fall into this sentence My gay sensibilities pushing me far beyond him and his peers I couldn't make out his apology or his echoing face as I shot off into the theatre Somebody said I should try praying, I have never prayed, unless you include that panic attack Great shuddering clicks are all I hear banging against my cochlea While the anvil and hammer storm against my ancestor's blood "Reminding me it's getting cold" That quote was possibly taken from one of the very first prayers I ever saw framed Words lined side by side can be kind to theatre goers Harsh to farmer's sons and masturbating school boys What sort of man are you? Tell me if you are the kind that would prefer to be king or prince? A book alone or a shelf in use? We found the piano, somebody, proba...

Dark are the changes that break with each sleepy blink Over eyes the colour of the Olive tree leaves that are curling in drought We could stop the light from filtering in and the resemblance would leave us The sturdy courage that night brings would wrap itself around us I hear the music from below the cliff, I hear if from below the fall strange brightness it brings to me like a house fire upon the hill and for the sake of the tired I will end my musings, that which I ponder although the new chapter has not yet begun O! why should the great resemblance be commented on? Why should your grey green olive leaf eyes be closed to the night? This cigarette burns itself while these spirits burn my thoughts I saw one grandfather, dead, in my dreams I saw another, dead, in his coffin Looking vulnerable with his final surrender Am I simple? Am I agreeable? I would like to think that all I need is night's courage I am lost in the valleys of a jacket and shirt Falling deeper ...

The old wireless's noise fell down the cracks between the floorboard The noise ate at the colour on the walls and the colour of your eyes All the while you explained what would happen when the sun died And I looked at you in the light of the flare, the ship was sinking Though we were healthy, weren't we? Yes. and we didn't care. Our worries were similar to every other 26 year old listening to water eat mortality Waves curling over limbs and hearts bursting with love and wonderment Oh we had mountains to climb yes but the rivers deep drew us And took us, floating, bound and pondering Trying to come to grips with the thrill of chasing and letting go While all the poppies and all the Iris' swayed in breeze Their dew covered leaves restlessy waving at the sky that was going to fall Or this is what our hearts told us... Funny they should tell us this and nothing of love We hugged and we shared our thoughts on each others legs Yours like great hairy trunks an...

Not really understanding how anything works anymore And the crimson panics are inevitable- hundreds of them But the heat swelters up causing ripples in the air Things are laughter, things are loud like door knocks or heat beats But none of this I understand I have written you short stories and spat on the wood to polish it Watched countless nights turn to their bellies  Why must the fires burn behind the smokey faces? It's not like horses could take us there It's not like we would want to return yet we will One day Smelling of cigarettes and stale beer When you kick the gravel the dust flies up and sticks to our sweat When you kick at the thistle the heads fly off and land in the grass Where is the desire where are the legs that ran? And the corners of your eyes will begin to burn  But that is the price that one pays for the freedom that you handed out We caught our planes when we were alone We sstood in the skeletons of the beached wh...

I walked the shore that carried itself toward the sky It wasn't far that I needed to go, though I knew I would go further The waves were ripples, the tide was out, the sun was high I heard the water crash but to me it was a mere murmur Gulls flew with wings caught on the wind invisible kite strings untangled All the grains of sand seemed to make a desert that i chose to walk on For a comfort and calmness to breath life in the mind that was strangled I heard the water crash but all I heard was his song The sky was grey or was it blue? maybe somewhere in between The head land wasn't far with its lighthouse standing proud I turned behind to see a wave wash my footprints clean The gulls all cried but all I heard was his voice sing strong and loud I paused to stare deep at the water, deep toward the sea Maybe I thought I had come far enough as far as I needed to go There is nought the sea can teach on love's sweet misery For when i listened to my lover...

Aggrieve the levitation into a dizzying torment A trickster singing a song from a tree's branch Big the boat that holds the strangled poetry's symbol Little arrow point to me hold down my New York symmetry Everyone is an anti-orgasm anti-climax merchant Smashing the bed head against the needle and pin I am the old man fearing the bottle and the open window Where does the camera lie, who shot the glass from the head? Relaxing because the days are passing and money is bread 1 is the fire, 2 is the fuel, 3 is the smoke, 4 is the rain He sam me coming and I saw the nudge in his jeans Canyons of masterpieces echoing the songs of S.Y. I read the letters from the white shirts in Mexico Enough was talked of, enough was said, but nothing of the flashing light Blisters broken, worked to the Friday, the birthing room was destroyed I have a sleepy poet in my mind, sailing with his brother the wind Did we ever get it together? sleeping on our sides in the ...