Slips

There are days
When once again
The world collapses
Pulled from under us
Pulling us apart
A dark pit fall
Waiting on this moonlit path

We edge closer
Fearful of all the things
That have gone before
Wary
Cautiously
Not even holding hands
For fear of the guilt
of dragging the other down

We watch from afar
As the future races
As one of us reaches for it
The other steps back
Reaching for the hand
But it reaches out
Towards the light
That ever present future
The green green grass

And I slip and trip
Over hidden pits
And the race carries on up
And over
And home

I sit
Down
And
Tell myself
You have done this before
You are still alive
Get
Up
Now.

Arthur's Seat on Marathon Day

To weave through
The silver sheeting
Bananas and pears
To climb above
To sweat and climb
To perch on the outcrop
Hidden
Watching
The glistening crests
Twinkling stars
Of achievement and grace

A man in a leather Stetson
Takes a picture of gorse
With an M&S bag
You're not fooling anyone

It's a live band
Singing to the milling glistening crowd
And I wonder
Is that that band,
The one I met,
The one that once
didn't want to walk
in the same direction as me?

If I had someone here
If I had someone to run to
Would I be here?

Running races
up the shining path
Madness is spreading

The Passing Tax

Comfiness
Wine and chocolate
Laptops warming poor laps
Peppers vs Capsicums
Secrets
Daydreams and sighs
As one tries
to keep from lying
To the others
Of the deep down
Hidden
Carefully wrapped
In layers of fear
Delicate gossamer strands of hope
Tickling and warm
Rising briefly above the surface
To shine deep down in the soul
Spread endlessly
Shaking the bones and a smile on the face.
But it ducks beneath,
Softly disappearing
Beneath layers of thought
Of worry and fear.
The hope
To hide beneath
Lighting a shy light
Deep in the heart
Where I smile from time to time
And I find myself at my happiest.

Choice

It's yours

Fractions

You divide your time
Into little slots
Events and thoughts
Intermingling plots

A child full of confusion
Of uncertain striving
Certainly trying

Older years,
The moment you leave
Your mother's hand
And the tears flow
Free and forever
The hurt, a sulk and sniffing tears

Until you see
That life is yours
Yours alone
Yours to do with what you will
This might take years
Or never happen at all
This terrifying flower
Of responsibility and freedom

Cut short
When another comes
In its turn,
Whether you are ready or not
To give up what you've got
To take your freedom
That giddy awful life
Which was only yours
Now is not

That's truly the end
And a kind of beginning,
Of the end.
Either way
It ruins you

Nice things

That feeling when you can't really believe that things might, maybe, just might

Work out

And life might be full
Of hot cups of tea
And warm nights in
And telly
And chats
And life
Spent planning
Then doing
Then seeing all there is to see
That you can
That maybe
Just maybe
It might
Be alright.

And sometimes
It's not.

Sell yourself

Put it all out there
Your best and your worst
Ready to be torn apart
Made a fool
Or made a saint
A genius
Or a flake

See them sitting there
Checking you off
On their lists and sheets
Sharp looks and sharp words
They lean back
Share a glance
Look down at your life
In their hands
Raise eyebrows
Tap pens
Mouths twist as they ask
What you did
Where you did
How would you think
If you did this
What would you do
Speculative
Dream like
Come at me
I have them all
All the right answers
All the wrong ones too
All you need is to see me
To have me there
To feel who I am
And how I work
How I survive
In the dangerous places.