Anthracite

A form of limbless terrestrial locomotion
like an incoming lazy tide

I move in and sit
a proud faineant today

Face carved into a stone
austere lines and curves

Don’t talk to me but I am back
chewing the rancid cud of the week

She spoke to me of love
this good friend of mine

I am pleased for you my smile said
but under I was afraid for her

Her heart was for a bad seed
whose roots would tear and rip

Are you sure of this man that has your eyes
I can sense is eagerness for something

Something you long for but never had
please don’t make this mistake my friend

But then maybe you should
then pain will be your clarity

I must try though, to warn then walk
do my duty as a friend and then cry

As her trust is sliced again
and I sit and listen

Until next time

Breath rolls into me like a wave into a cove

my eyes flick towards an old, sometimes welcome friend

my head like a playground at 4 am

slowly the tap of thoughts open and dribbles

nice things at first of life and my kids

then like a jack booted Nazi other thoughts arrive

the soldiers line up behind my eyes ready for the fight

the welcome mist of comfort arrives right on que

as I win another war of who I really am

the strength of winning this treacherous war

enlightens my start and makes me want

the life I have is a good one

the pendulum called feet swing towards the floor

I stretch like a titan and take the air I want

another day is here just for me

A child struggles through the ripples on the beach

his laughter at a simple and free joy

I cannot help but smile and leach off his excitement

as the joyful tear races to my stubbled chin

Sometimes I am standing and very strong

I can do this, yes, for times very long

Sometimes I think I just need a hug

Is it my future in the bottom of this mug?

Sometimes I think I try to hard

Am I trumped by my own high card?

Sometimes I think it’s just too much

A one legged man with a broken crutch

Sometimes I feel all alone

Have I been to long, on my own?

Sometimes I want to shout and rage

Until I pause and turn the page.

Sometimes I think they don’t care

Is honour and empathy something rare?

Sometimes I think there is no love

Just black crows and no white dove

Sometimes I have to smile and pretend

That it’s all ok, it’ll be good in the end

Sometimes I’m tired and had enough

Is it ok to admit it’s a bit rough?

Sometimes I don’t want to be so exposed

But I’d welcome a smile dressed in a rose

Sometimes I steer a ship through a storm

And on the other side I am wet and forlorn

Sometimes I dance to a tune in the middle

A spiteful master and his screeching fiddle

Sometimes I think I am beaten

Bruised and sore, nothing to sweeten

Sometimes I think there is really only me

That’s ok really, not unusual to see

But that’s only sometimes

I think today

I’ll be ok