Little Green Man

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But also things look weird, and muddled in between.
You try to eat an ice-cream stick, but leave the cone behind.
You fly up an escalator, to be told you should have climbed.

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But you are also muddled and weird in between.
You make snowballs of shaving foam, but find real snow too cold.
You collect tinfoil from the bin, but aren't so sure of gold.

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But people are so weird, you're muddled in between.
They want you to be quiet, then ask what they have done.
They go on scary rides, then say it was for fun.

When you are an alien, not only are you green.
But home seems so far away and its hard being between.
You want to know how things should work, while you are still on earth
But your eyes are fixed on what you've known, since your second birth.

This one is from many years ago, not the best poem I've ever written, but it's one that always sticks in my mind. It probably needs some work but it would feel weird to go back and edit it all these years later I think, so here it is, in it's original form. 

Inverse Sadness

I have something to say, but even I don't know what it is.
Maybe if I go to sleep with a pen beside my dreams,
Or do an ink impression off my heart,
We can both read what is written there.

The heart-head line has been severed:
It makes educated guesses that are factually correct,
Looking in from outside, cool and detached,
Reflecting you.

My heart begins to reveal it's cards,
Like the final round of knock-out whist.
Still you look expectantly, but now without the magnifying glass.
Soon you will wander on, forgetting I'm not fine.

What would you have me do?
Plunge my hand deep into my chest,
And pull out the offending heart,
So we can cross-examine it into submission?

Perhaps, I should operate to reconnect
The dodgy plumbing?
I can't map this out for you,
Because the mirror comes up blank.

11/1/14

Message in a bottle

The code seems unbreakable,

The environ a swirling mess,

I can't join the dots,

All I do is guess.

I have no idea what kind of hand I hold,

Although, I have all my cards face-up.

I know I missed class,

The day they set this up,

And I've been improvising since,

The effort eats me up.

I walk and crawl but never run,

The child inside is overcome.

I oscillate unintentionally,

..........Or maybe I don't.

The crime cannot be judged by the defendant,

But the judge cannot understand.

I've come so far, but not yet passed the starting line.

I am a message in a bottle.

Written: April 2009

Jail

Inside my ribs it aches without you.

Or it would, if I hadn't encased my heart with glass

So that my body could carry on:

Perfectly isolating and containing the problem,

So that I would continue smoothly,

Like a glass lake on a still day.

Now I battle within, asking myself,

Is this the end of the poem?

Do I carry on walking away?

Why would anyone open the gates,

Knowing poison would flow through the streets?

But is living under siege, living at all?

If you cut off supplies, the people will die,

My body needs oxygen to live.

But facts remain facts,

You are still far from me,

Even, if I shatter that glass.

25/4/10

One-way mirror

Your broken image stares back at you:
Cowering, hiding, casting furtive glances.
The clock ticks and you hear nothing changes.
You’ve ticked off the last of your chances.

You sit alone, covering both mirrors:
With sweetness, with metal, with orange glasses.
You are the only key but you don’t fit.
Another day, another night, morning passes.

On the other side of the wall
We can see you, a flower unfolding.
You are encrusted with jewels.
You are so beautiful it hurts.


Inspired by L, C & C,
other people I’ve known,
times in my life,
& a line from a U2 song.

24/2/09