In the shadows of wonderment
To the boy whom wears a boata hat saw him down at old bilos flat hes a what sit with a geetar sang me a song from an old tune ‘black n white’ flick picture show ..
‘I can give you anything but love’
graveyards sweat with the passengers
‘I always thought you were a bit of a janet’..as windscreen wipers moisten..sirens (for us), the roughness of her hair ..sitting by.kneeling for a graveyard keeper (Creeper) we see a peeper in the unkept lighting…the girl who plays in his hat..she cant quite play geetar, but shes pretty in the shadows, her upper arms ‘narrow’
so wheres the stars tonight? My midnight sighting of a shooting star?
Stoneographers scream
‘the bark it breaks quite nicely’..are you trying to de tune the music of the night with that racket?
Stop ruffling the pavements wonderers
‘who will buy my beautiful roses’
policey arrives and im shaking shudders..Andrew smoothly struts the streets tuts (my lips are dry) me, the stoneographer dressed in the blackness of the night
‘youll wake up all the neighbours!’, its nice just to be..and daddy I aint coming home tonight. Sitting in the same old clothes (hidden in my coat…waking in corners)
how her face traced a tear on my cheek…not a peak from the contents of that room…just joining the dots, painting the smiths and stranded on a geetar case (in the middle of a sea of records)
running rampid…at the last supper, the last four standing..stood in a night of ‘could’
the night though, not quite state of clouding, nah, nah, nah , nah a skin tin forehead
singing socks of black and white.. ‘sit tight’ she cries ‘hes king’ hes hunched in
leather..spending his last penny (quickened by a feather of rocks) coat hangers whisper ‘walk out the door’ orchestral bittersweet chimneysweeps.knock knock knocking on a lonely heart
why are you talking to the floorboards about me?have ya? Swearing bleeding joys..scratching the trees, knees of bark..of wicker
so stop tuning those sweet pleasant follys which make me love you
dustbins and rosettes
I sang ‘hello’
You spoke ‘goodbye’
We sighed together
Whispered forever
Id rather sing that I hate you than write that I love you
So youd hear why I left ‘heart theft’
Multi tinged personalities spindalled, wound, bound by a new found fountain friend ‘he lives in a spiderweb’
WE CAN BEG, STEAL OR BORROW FOR A FIX OF TOMORROW
Half heartedly I skip, dance, laugh anything a destraction for being alone…the ice has melted now, soles of feet have been greeted by the immigrants of the floorboards. The spot where …rather dashing in a top cap hat lifted an index card from my cabineted memoria childish days having to run to street lamps and touch them due to a voice in my head which would send my hands and feet on missions to tick or tap 3 times here or…
Where has all the night gone? Night folded by day the sun puts its hat on as today Is spun..34 to waterloo an even line of carefully pissed on ‘red telephone boxes’ 1 2 3 4 and all but once I notice one more..i saw a pink one just the day before
Now, an empty cuppa brew to substitute an ‘ I love you’ from a guards man at seven foot two
Under bruised apple lit skys…(a land)
Kept a jar of pennys by the old front door on his way out he takes a copper so when he returns he wont have any concerns but to throw up the coin and jump with his loin.
Lonelys climbing the empty corridors of her heart…poor girl lives in the generation of literalism robotic or real? There is no logic on black and white..she crys ‘just because its lunchtime it does not mean im hungry’
Now..ill tell ya something funny, now I aint got no money..but ill write you a ryme thatll thankyou for your time ..sing you a song that will write over wrong..fly a kite to a cloud you can belong.
Me…
Theres a girl at the window and shes rocking to and fro
Hands on her knees
With a gaze in the trees
Theres a girl at the window and shes rocking to and fro
Tell me what shes thinking
What does she know?
Theres a window to her heart
And a door to her mind
Theres a box on her shoulders
And a candle on her chest
Theres a shoe to her nose
What does she know?
Nobody knows?
(but ofcourse shes lost in her to’s and fro’s, yes and no’s, so and so’s, because it’s a little place called a window)
escapee troubles returno…oh no but the shoulders were dissolvants which resented my smiles..awhile..oh you don’t know me aswell as I know myself tonight…I danced with you all night.
The fullmoons out as are the wolves who hounded me..the fountain of wishfull watchmakers look to a time when ticking came from the heart of magic.
Magic whisks from the believer ..sleeves of gold…untold stories..left to unfold
The floor from which I bathed a wilted…belongs now to a purtruding flower..its scent memorably sweet as sour
‘I admire you very much as a person but I cant keep you to myself for long’
coppers in gold…storys sold
future on the loose of tightened dreams, fathers screams ..trees harmonise dissordily whistles of tramps
and now clearly under the door blows the breeze of loneliness..blood boldly pumps..yet loneliness..thicker in lumps
‘where did she run?those little legs that made me forget how to cry and toes that seemed to smile to a place you couldn’t grow a lie?
Where did she go? Into that night ‘evil row’ has caught its flight.
The voice…
He sang ‘the voice’ the name that captured their hearts yet a him through poisoned darts..it hurt to smile…the boy ‘world in his pocket’ to run a mile in a ll of a song, its minute..peak closer into his closet..his life aint a neverending musical deposit
In the uncomfortableness of her breakfast pipey..red loafer stools on a mount pleasant sunrise, a stool, a smile watch over with me a while…fingernail of unslept days..uneven nights, waking afternoons of burnt black spoons (once) full of sugar, tiles burdened by a photograph of cheeks pinkened by the wind of sticking adventure (black eyeliner to make her feel pretty) outblown by ices hairdryer) the bed resembles a carefully disfigured lego cube
Knock knock a giant magician jumped through the window into the flat..blackened by toenails..dungarees are ready for their taking.
Fate Plate
A cobwebbed shell of uncertainties dance the tap of fate..served up by the worlds ‘’fate plate’’ picture shows of ‘win a date’ tempremental smiles walking high on walls..roof tops ‘appearing’ tall, but look to the sky, only for proof of them, the ‘lie’ pass me by, sigh and hold my hand
Skip with me to the land of ‘others oblivium’ that double dosage of ‘kiss kisseum’ stack the hay and the needle appears clean ‘fate a lampost’ you in position of ‘lean’ ing, watching , waiting for lady love to walk on by
For every first time you commited the crime…my clock strikes the chime and time nods ‘its time’..but questions does life have a rythme or ryme?
The moth to the light
Drawn by beauty yet death on the cards it dies for love? Dances with fire…just to taste a place of higher?
Tonight the moth sleeps under my foot
The night raiders
Truncheon paraders
Lived in my bedroom
Combing my life with an official broom
Convinced of the word too soon
My spirit lives in nights loom
Belongs questionably to whom?
This world was never meant for you and me…strangers in paradise (simple ) you see?
I cant speak to words anymore..reality has evolved..crept into a snore
Red stripes have numbed the voice of reason
What becomes tonight of the me that they see? So different to the me ‘ I be’ …love, the ‘we’ and growth the ‘tree’
Budding a horizon which has taken tomorrow and bricked me into sorrow?
My words have led me to believe I belong in the shadows of anothers grave
Much love
kimberleena x
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