................FOE IS NOT A WRITER BUT FOE LIKES TO WRITE.................................

Sunday, 19 September 2010

TERRIBLE TERRIBLE THINGS

Slower, slower, please, I cant keep up.
Ill have to retreat to the darkness and withdrawal of my night watch.
Okay, so you cant run as fast as me?
but you can dance?.
Come and dance with me, he smiled.
He circled
Silly
she forgot that only sharks and vultures circle. 

Maybe I wont come back this time,
She silently hoped
(well at least she made it look like she was fervent and fearlessly hoping 
but she really never meant a word)
Now what the fuck was that about?

the tide is rising higher, with each cold exhalation and every cold clink of the coin.
Strike curiosity into action
Rise
Arise
Throw your religious crutches into the fire
We have nothing more to restrain our desire. 

WE GROW LIKE VINES ON THE WALL OF OUR FUTURE
OUR LIVES HAVE BECOME SO ENTWINED, 
IT SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE TO PART THEM.


WITH 
EVERY
PASSING
DAY
WE GROW TIGHTER


AND WITH EVERY
PASSING 
DAY
WE SQUEEZE THE LIFE A LITTLE MORE OUT OF EACH OTHER

BIRTHS AND FUNERALS

She had a lot to say about our inexplicable drawing to life and death but thought it rather like tempting fate by dedicating a whole chapter to these wholey momentarily unwelcome topics.
(plainly, she wished for neither death nor a baby)
and wished to just leave it at that.

AUTUMN FALLS IN LOVE

he didn’t fill a hole, like so many before him had.
like human poly-filla.
you can even make jokes about it.
i know 
you know what i mean.
the scales were weighing in heavy, the time was running out, no amount of money saved could pay the fine.
ever.
Not that you would even want to pay it. 

The weathers changing.
The long sleepy amber afternoons.
morphing yellow gold red orange brown to navy grey silver purple.
Oops and
Violet and indigo
Sorry, they felt left out.
.we had a meeting.

I dont think he trusted her.
but then why would he, she hardly trusted herself.
although lately she was greatly pleased and surprised by the progress she was making.
they both seemed to deserve it.
she was in love?.
she was without a doubt, definately, besottedly and allegorically in love.
it sounds a bit wanky to say but, this ran deep, like ancient legend deep.
she could recall and predict the 
future 
and the past.
She saw her old spirit and could even smell the market place in his eyes, when they dreamed they would press their heads together and become perfect symmetry, 
sometimes 
they would even dream about the same things
He cast a fine spidery web over her and she knitted it into a soft hoodie for the winter.
It was all true
even her aunt had said.

but her father,
 well now that is a different slice of racoon pie.
he, well he, he didnt even notice a thing, well, except for the missing cutlery, but we all kind of expected that.

Sunday, 22 August 2010

RED SHOES

Delusional?
Just the fact you think you could be delusional, makes you and your delusions real.
To think is to make real.
He taught her that, well, 
he said
thoughts are things.
He
.he
.he said
He
he
She
could go on forever.
she had hoped, 
he
would join her.

She wore red shoes that day.
All the african schoolchildren sitting on the pavement, whistled and shouted as she walked past.
Even they knew she was up to something - something they wished they could be a part of,
even they knew.

THE WHISPER SHE COULDNT IGNORE

Three times that day she had called its name, 
THREE TIMES

Yes, yes she knew that now she would have to live alone.
A biography?
I don't think so.
Wandering and wavering, our roots lie within this ground, they wait patiently for us to
unite our earthly legs with them again, and once again become one with the earth in our death and decay. 
A marvellous fortune, 
i couldn't have planned it better myself.
roots, roots, oh where are my roots.
roots, roots, i long for my roots.

She always found it crazy, impossible, the way objects always seem to hide themselves,
the way objects pretend to sit still?
Bit you know that you don't and then you find them again and go 'aaah' but
secretly you KNOW that its not where you left it.
Also its consistency never let up, she could practically never put something down and find it again.
Scissors, pencils, sharpeners, pins......you heard me. 

DUSK = REHAB

'No, no, thank you very much Mr Moretti! 
Yeh everythings fine. 
oh that, oh its nothing, 
wait till you see what happened to my friend Jester.
Uh okay i gotta go and thanks again for giving it to me in fifties'

She always thought it better to linger with the dusk, to breathe in 
the blue-grey opium, 
the smudgy blue black air that opens the stage for night.
An ancients new day. 
The ever restless, changing of positions, 
transition 
positions.
She realised this was nearly rehab time, 
she was always getting drunk and stoned on dusk.

Then ever so quickly a sharp shard shaft of paranoid stung her, actually it more like
bit her.
Damn, it even left teeth marks.
Rose room spray, can it save the day?
The eternal question. 

JEMIMA AND THE FLAMMABLE MATERIALS

Jemima had found for herself a lover, 
she prayed that he would not burst into flame and scatter and disintegrate,
like those
who had gone before.
this was the one she had been hoping for, this was the one.
the notice read:
'NO FLAMMABLE LIQUIDS OR MATERIALS ALLOWED'

This one was going to last, even if she had to see to it herself.
She said it out aloud, 
to an imaginary audience, 
well imaginary or not, who can say?
It was an audience and she put on a magnificent performance  
 

WE WILL SEE

She, 
fell like an ash teardrop, 
she burst and scattered at the same time when she hit the ground. 
There were too many people, with too many sides to take.
Too many things to say and too many tides to get swept past on the rapids of the sidetides.
It,
seemed
magical
I assure you,
it
wasnt.
The harsh fluorescent light of day.
The constantly being on trial, will bring out - oh but - only your best qualities.
She
grinned and turned to hide her mouth.
We will see.
INDEED
We will see.