The memory and the dream are one and the samea phantom limb that I would break my own dear heartto have back, restored to me It’s as if I can see my own sight fadingwhile the quotidian seeps, heavyinto the fibres of my beingI am overwhelmed by the here and now, wishinginstead to be whisked away to there, to then Four years beached on my … Continue reading Defining horizons
I watch the weather where I was
and where I want to be;
too cold for summer, too hot for winter,
too comfortable to be close to anywhere … Continue reading Mediterranean (from Tarifa to you)
Paradise, he declares while I proceed to speak of chains. I am Con-Tiki in reverse, a raft that’s weathered wind and wave. But I’ve tethered me to this here shore, I’m jealous of the roaming tide; these feet that wander rarely now, this heart traversing cloud. Freedom, his desire’s for while forty-five million slaves cry out. Deaf to their lament, their groans, blind to his own … Continue reading Paradise
I. It’s been one of those nights when sleep escapes and in its wake these words that race, stampeding through your mind; longing to be verse, yearning for release they cry out ink me, ink me onto parchment. Metabolise the pain, sweet heart. After all, it’s like any other bitter thing – the bile, the aftertaste, it will linger, but it will fade. Swallow, stay … Continue reading Aperture/Closure
This post was originally titled “Poems about boys”. Then I thought that was too racy and also inaccurate. So I changed it.
There are two poems, both inspired by – but not actually about – boys. But this is poetry, after all, so who am I to tell you what my poems are “actually” about?
If you’re still interested in my attempts at creative writing, please read on … Continue reading Blisters, sparks / Unexpected sentimentality
Lately I’ve been spending time alone on the train, with the trains inside this mind where I am surrounded by a symphony of synth senses full, spirit high glass in one hand, heart in the other screaming into the void and it can’t resist me one with the universe just a drop in this ocean but I am invincible. Music dries up to a foggy morning dawned … Continue reading Trains, Platform 29
In the days before I converted to Mac, defragging my PC was a standard part of my life. I would order things in neat folders and subfolders, name files consistently and accurately then conscientiously delete them when they were superseded by newer versions. Alas, my PC would still take its sweet, sweet time with even basic tasks. It would limp along on the best of days and … Continue reading Defrag this
The opposite of vertigo
Is your wings poised for flight
and your feet stuck in cement;
Is the skyward pull that makes
you ill to be on the ground.
Gravity versus your dreams.
The opposite of vertigo
Is conversations about the weather
and getting angry at traffic;
Is display windows taunting you
with things that won’t make you happy.
You can see right through them.
From the pit of your stomach
to the tip of your tongue
the air here’s thick,
swallows up inspiration.
The opposite of vertigo
Is the sickening sensation of settling;
Is being shackled when you should be airborne.
The opposite of vertigo
Is the curse of those who come down from altitude;
Is the Icarus in you and me. Continue reading The opposite of vertigo
Draw me out of stormy water
My first breath is marked by grace
Make me someone else’s daughter
Heart that doesn’t match its face
There is a blueprint to my heart
Chase it up my family tree
Peel away this royal mask
Disarmed, now trace me back to Eve
Fire within and it consumes me
Lift my hand, in for the kill
Fire before my eyes I see
Instantly the world falls still
Pack my bags and leave the road
Suddenly I’m homeward bound
Might and mercy that was showed
A destiny, a new hope found
Even pain it had a purpose
Rejection taught me who to trust
Didn’t see it at the time
The diamonds being formed from dust
Here before this multitude
Seas will part and nations fall
Incongruent heart refreshed, renewed
Tuned in to the celestial call Continue reading Out of Egypt
I.
It was perfect in a bittersweet way
The overcast day
The fresh flowers
The waiting
The shades of black and grey
The Padre Nuestro
The father’s chanting
II.
They ushered him through a maze
of flagstones well-polished by the varnish of water
and the heavy footsteps of generations of mourners.
For fifty pesos a stranger sang
as we showered him with rose petals and rain.
Amidst her wailing and her brothers’ silent despair
and the cement mixed and laid thick to immortalise him,
the sky stops crying and its blue eyes blink
and I, for a moment, stare into eternity,
into sorrow, into loss, into hope.
Avenues upon avenues of memories
in this city of the departed;
yards and yards of carnations
doing their best to defy time –
but who can resist?
Grief made her embrace linger, made us angels
without wings, and stranded on earth,
but angels nonetheless.
III.
Another Padre Nuestro
Another sigh
Another moment without him
The first of too many. Continue reading Victor
