There will be no equal intimacy
to what has been lost – there is
an echo – my repeat of what-ifs
& stale regrets rebound again &
again & a foreign text settles in/
I did not want to divide all those
spoils of a baker’s dozen years –
it was more [but I never told you
about my feelings years before]/
Tag: LOVE
There is no such thing as love
There is no such thing as love
[between adults] – consensual
stuff is rarely agreed/ Time will
peel atoms from lips/ We float
once drowned [once bloating]
in canals/ A filled condom will
drift for miles – rinsing semen –
there will be obfuscated knots
& wet ropes & we will spiel [in
tongues] as hard fingers strum
love songs [a frighteners’ tale]
across a ploughed hinterland –
here there were their long days
& nights of said-indiscretions –
like I love you/ Here stiff beams
slump with rust’s weaker grips
over rolled out repeats of lines
of steel & engineering feats – i
kissed here under a pier head
[a sky of rot was our constant
shade]/ I will not agree on love
Dead to Me
Mercury dimes in fools’ silver
to weigh my ghosts down [so
I’ll not rise – & other dangers]
Lost Phrygian caps doffed [no
sex – kicked-in manhoods] I’m
manumitted by Liberty’s kiss
Marianne spoke about such –
& then Paris turned on itself &
saw disgust – at failed royalty –
whilst on my eyelids lay twins
in metal shrines bearing dead
models – a poet’s wife? – Elsie
posed for Weinman – turning/
Liberty won’t release me from
my resting place – no last toss
of shiny coins to decide on my
fate beyond all – la petite mort
& other foolish points of death
settle among equal cold casts
of her coins & my cadaver/ I’ll
remain dead [& blind forever]
School Shootings
We aren’t rational creatures –
[state school re-calibrated us]
We fire a complaint with thick
skin on trigger fingers [& I will
peel it – until raw-gnawed – as
if rat-chewed] I’ll squeeze that
primed lever via my lit device &
raise my white flag – a practice
unforgiven by rah-rah Etonians
with their ragged Union guidon
I know a cruel psychopath – all
of us have at least one nearby/
But narcissistic people kill too –
small memorials mark each fall
where they pull & breath – out –
& aim direct from a firearm/ We
are walking targets – bull’s-eyes
slapped on our backs by lovers
& haters [as they measure out a
range they know is in their skill-
set]/ They have a gun club – rifle
handling is taught from birth – &
other stuff for assassin-love/ Lie
on your face – as blood-spatters –
descry a grave-deep hiding place
Leonard Cohen Bought Her Diamonds
He bought a paste jewel
in order to undo her bra –
[& she said it as b-rawwt –
it was sweetheart time to
bare her thickish-charms]
He sighed & so fathomed
her submissive way as he
said this hotel is my home
[some rooms held his lies
limply on hangers – songs
pressed by sweat] All was
fixed stiff in starch [& by a
blue pill two hours ahead
to keep Leonard hard as a
chook-frying man on heat]
Cut to another scene – his
hand holds an Amex card
& he pauses – a long beat/
Credits roll/ Skip an option
& she selects OK [yes I do]
She will have words written
by Mr Cohen – verse into a
song – but not a Marianne –
such composition is a once-
in-a-lifetime [out of his love]
Authentic
I am no more,
I am this line,
You will take it
being
no longer mine,
now wired inside
your enquired mind:
You are no more:
You are my line.
Limits
He once hip-waded
across this life,
now no deeper,
just ankle-high;
those he’d stripped
in his mouth
He’ll now undress,
but in his eye:
A shot of water,
without whisky,
into sleep’s
half price dreams,
no sweated sheets,
no fingered-loving,
but he’ll wake more fucked
than he’s ever been.
MIKE BELL | 10,000 Poems 