Crickets

We’ve all found places on porches where crickets click
And in these dreams the sun is setting
With a pinkish red hue, hazy and bathing
Us, as we bask, blinking as the last of the light
Slowly slips away

Clutch that cardigan tighter, slung over
Sloping shoulders as you lean back
And put your back into the swing seat
Sip on the straw and run thin fingers
Through rich ringlets of hazel brown

Relax and breath, and breath and relax
Little gasps of life enter your lungs
Between the drags
We’re living in the gaps between the day
To day, as each day ends

Whilst this weather holds
And whether you’re still holding her hand
When the seasons change
There’s no reason for ruining rhyme
With a shot of reality squeezing through the catheter

So click, clack and skip away little cricket
Grasshopper, locust or whatever you are
When you’re at home in the garden of my home
As the sun sets and the tide of evening
Takes hold, you’re still sat warm and waiting

For all of this to end, for that alarm to shriek
And buzz, as you stumble into life
Head-first and blurry as it washes over you
The clamour and scuttle of it all
You envy that locust, that cricket

Sat there on your lawn in the dusk
Chirruping, chiming away
And recognise that it’s not the girl
Nor the drink, but the insect
Who truly defines your nights in the gaps

After all, after the blast
The clicking and chirruping is all you’ll hear
Not her, not even the swing of this bench
But only an insect, a noise
To soothe you to sleep with a beer in your hand

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Cyprus

After a week away in beautiful 30 degree heat, drinking ten generously mixed cocktails on the quiet days and eating two full plates of meat and cheese for each meal, I’m back from Paphos, Cyprus.
It was all for my friend’s wedding and the day went very smoothly, you wouldn’t be risking sunburn if you had an outdoor ceremony and after party in England at this time of year.

Morning sunshine
Morning sunshine

I last visited cyprus when i was about twelve and i saw quite a few old sights this time round that stirred my memories. I was mostly impressed by how relaxed and friendly people are. The history as a British colony is still prominent once you scratch under the surface and this influence is equally comforting and disappointing. With all the expats, British stores, restaurants, pubs and customs such as driving on the left, it can be a little too familiar when you’re trying to get away from it all but i guess thats a lot better than a hostile or alien place. I guess i mean that it just feels a little bit like a little britain with scorching sunshine and friendli…hang on, why am I complaining?!

Table decoration
Table decoration

Highlights, other than the gorgeous ceremony,

Segway tour
Segway tour

Segway tours (I have no idea how that nobhead Piers Morgan toppled one over)

I am a plant
I am a plant

Hundreds of rather cuddly fleabag street cats

Top Gun
Top Gun

‘Ray Bans’ that cost less than my suncream

Shipwreck
Shipwreck

The grim monolithic sight of the tanker that ran aground in Paphos bay nearly fifteen years ago.

This ain't Lowestoft
This ain’t Lowestoft

After all the sun, free drinks and reunion with university friends it’s now back to the good old British weather.

Skies

We see the same sky
You and I
Watching as the horizon
Blends with warm ocean
And aren’t you glad you’re laying here

That tanker out there
What do you think they’re
Thinking when they sit there
Watching and waiting for a call
To come to shore

Why do you think I care
She said as she traced a thin line of
Sand across
Her belly button
Idly caressing and eyes on skies
Distant, daring and blinking blue
Eyes
Behind Ray Bans that could define my life
I breathed deeply and furrowed forth

If life is a game
Are you winning or losing
I asked her
She sniffed and drew her arms around
Her knees
Poised, taut and drawing it out
I’m playing and that’s better than most

She left to the right
My feet dug in the sand
By the shore
With the sun and the sea and the scene
Still the tanker sat motionless
So here I lie with my eyes on empty skies

Jetsetting

Before this year the last time I had been abroad was September 2009, to Washington DC. This year I’ve already been to New York and now this week I’m going to Paphos in Cyprus and Florida for Christmas.

I’m not expecting it to be scorching in Cyprus at this time of year but it should be a good ten degrees centigrade better than the UK and I might see that thing that people abroad call “the sun”.

Look forward to obligatory photos of hotel pool, cocktails and beaches. Going to do my very best to get a tan.

I can’t wait, even if I did choose to spend 4 hours layover in a Greek airport just to save £40. I mean, Greek airports can be a lot of fun too, right?

Victory

I am a victory
She sung sweetly as
Her small form framed
The sky and sunlight shone through
You’re only so sweet for so long

Live life and gather your rosebuds
While you may, as there are many ways
For age to wage on that felicitous form
Smile and dance, hold on to something
The brightest of days not the dark of the dawn

Lights flicker and flash out far quicker
Than the charm of her smile fades
Give up, get up, move on
And muster every fractured fragment
Of what is left of your self respect

Drag up, dig in, weather another storm
Whether you want to or not
There is always something brewing
Humid, a static, there is something in the air
Here, an energy, a flare

A flair for melodrama, oh Brutus et tu?
Hey, her hips didn’t lie but the same
Couldn’t be said for her thighs
And we get up, move on, grow

Standing now before it all
As the grass opens up ahead and the
Sunshine has never shone this bright
Finally you get it
That head over heels bullshit
It all makes sense
As you hold her in your arms

An Elegy For Mortality

Stand up and be counted
Or crouch down, on all fours
And skulk, slink, slide away
It’s better to live on your paws
Than die in any shape or form

Bipedal or quadrupedal, it
Matters not, we all fall and
Rot the same way, like pears
Tossed from the tree to the ground
Far too early, and food for the ants

What would you do with ten more years
What have you done with the last ten
The same shit on distant days
A memory haze
Drip, drop, through the catheter

So, all’s quiet on your front
Or is it louder than a thousand suns
And brighter than a bomb blast
Call it what you will, a day is a day
Is a day, forms a year

Sit down and drink this, comfortably numb
Like your knees and forepaws
Dose yourself, dope yourself
And face another day