Hold Fast

Hold fast and don’t lose your nerve,

let the sounds of hope gently sway you to sleep.

When sitting alone in some unknown place,

Think of places you’ve seen

And people you’ve been

And those dreams that you’ve dreamt

Will come true one day

In a blink of an eye or an unusual way.

Don’t be alarmed if you find yourself hoarse,

Crying out for redemption

Or a new path or course.

Because you’ll find yourself one day

In a car, on a train,

On a road or a truck.

On a boat or a  plane.

Heading truly to glory,

To love or to faith,

To the arms of another,

Comfortable, safe.

Film

Sat across from me,

you smile and move your hand, that way you do.

I look up to see your eyes

as they close slightly.

Everything around fades to pale

and someone turns the sound down.

I imagine an audience

watching us on some screen. A popcorn-filled hand pausing

on the way to its destination.

Then we both realise, and laugh

and the credits start to roll.

Disco

Hangover from childhood,

Roughly returned in a short stay,

in a hostile environment.

Too loud, too warm, too lonely.

And too many versions of myself,

holding up walls,

nodding along to music,

hoping not to be asked to dance,

and hoping that they will be.

Radical

Card-carrying member of

the idealistic and reckless

society of fools.

And I’ll never be happy

until I’ve chased every cause,

burned every flag

and chased every government down.

I’ll sit with fire in my eyes

and I’ll burn down your lies.

And when the bar’s closed I’ll go home.

Announcements

Sorry for interrupting classes but the invasion has started.

Our alien overlords are massing inside Earth’s orbit.

It is believed that they have technology far superior to our own.

We have little realistic chance of survival.

It is recommended that all people on Earth seek shelter.

We should prepare for many months in hiding.

In other announcements Mrs. McKenzie reminds all second year pupils

that the badminton club runs on Fridays at lunchtime.

Thank you and good morning.

Camden

They sat for a while

by the canal in Camden

and considered quietly

their first altercation,

in person that is

having gone quiet at times

in phone coversations.

A hand reached out

seeking contact with another

and they forgot what was wrong

watching the boats drift past.

Held

What need have I of faraway things

and hopeless causes, when I have all

I need held tight in my hand.

Even if I open it up from

Fist to flat palm it will never leave,

But stay, resting between fingers and wrist.

Dark

I’m the voice in our ear,

The unsettling thought before sleep.

I am creeping doubt

And spreading fear.

I am shadows in the darkness.

I will open your eyes.

Waiting in blackened streets,

I coax you to coldness,

And tear at yourhair.

I will hold your hand,

And drag you down with me.

Inertia

There’s a strange kind of inertia

that sets in when you have little

to do but get up in a day and the simplest

of tasks take hours to complete

and the promise of sleep merely resets

the ride for another spin round and

another day older.

Letters Home From The Front

Eyes-hidden half lives, wandering slowly,

around another emotional parade

of whole truths and white lies

handshakes and goodbyes

and statements designed not to offend.

And all that we find in the hands of each person

is a letter back home from the front,

that promises meetings, greetings, embraces,

things that will never take place.

For all of our hearts are

thrown up in the air, on a blanket

that shows a year passed.

These voices that still call

and the sounds of the footfall,

are an instruction to go back to the start.

We turn round the dancehall,

and wait for the last call

and with pockets of coins we drift home.