Finlandia 2

I'll venture out 
Umbrella wild and inverted 
against relentless winds and a bitter frost 
I'll lose you in conversation (for the laugh) 
but I won't ever really lose you again 

I walk to meet you 
I walk with you 
your ghosts 
or maybe just the one: 
disguised as a demon, quite cleverly 
it's only give away, being the vapours of Hell's breath 
through the freezing night air 
Tatters cancelling a last shout; smoothed clean; naked; vulnerable 
In this presence I have no other choice 
Soothed in untoward decisions and filligree distractions 
I'd give anything for warm strawberry light (tease) 

You are justifying being a dick? 
I can only justify loving you 
It's easy 
Every last meaning, feeling, agonising question 
it's all got an answer 
a solution only I see (it seems) 
and loving you, carries no promise 
it just is


~ SRWB 2010

Finlandia 1

There's a song I love - somewhere

One that says it all

that will make me feel again

insiduous lifetime help is stalling

I'm falling

I fell

nothing, I reprimand myself when I say or think that

everything starts with nothing in the worst way

deciduous - .... what do leaves do?

die

fall

crash

burn

potassium deficit cramps my soul

it is a ..... I've said it too many times

a cricket bat is the next step

I'm too british to do baseball

it's old skool - not cool anymore

and I'm riding this (wave?) scene until it's done

skool is dead - find something new

bury the ghouls and walk a fresh grave

I'm in awe

I'll never write like you

that syllable that makes a soul dance

and find the atmosphere in which to grow and 

grow

stealing a flame isn't the game

but I wish... yeah

payday is coming

an illusive holiday

no date... no time

just be there

I'll wait

~ SRWB 2010

30 New Years

Broken anniversaries and besotted philosophy - forgotten death dates

Quotations, it's been said before - it'll suffice

Ashes; whiter than burning cold and time is,was once,once was, I knew all of the patterns

Clocked stares through windows with pagan labels and certification of every hope pinned

Mirrored often, night long and day hard, and groaning, incidental and wanting from a misplaced image and a half-assed song

Crushed colour in tile pigment is long gone - weaved reflections on a listed surface

Inhale the right way. There's pleasantry and facade in ambiguity and buried smells

Reminders in old sheds, blackened before they're even new or quickly forgotten amongst the wrinkles

I admitted my failings right there; went with them; lost all reason; fixed the bike again

so that it could continue its life of leaning against walls that could not exist without it

In my mind, I fixed it time and again, sprayed the metal and lost my sensibilites along with the sound of the engine

My cheek on the leather of the seat

He lost it to four wheels in the end. We'd have predicted just the two.

Smiling at a dancing madman doesn't encourage him half as much as shouting his demise

What would you think?

An interlude - a never beginning - a laughing screen; screaming insanity makes cash

and uses it to buy more; more madness in a cheap suit and a thick smile

Spiders on the wall, in cages I never entered, nor sat in for long

Endless wandering (in hopeless night?) - I let you down, didn't I?

Or would you laugh? Along with us and our flourescent drinks on sticky dancefloors

Maybe shake your head with a half-smile and a portent of what is to come and how it should be avoided, always

So tell me

Here is my right arm, my hand still attached and twitching

I'm handing it over

Payment for half an hour across a table

so you can tell us what the hell is going on

~ SRWB 2010

Untitled free verse on a definite subject - death

I felt like sitting in the corner of a darkened room,
with lillies and a balloon, to watch it drift until
it bounces against artex sharpness; to burst?
or float back down over time - shrunken and lost
It was not to be, not allowed
I am here, in a gladrag black-stained reality
Worshipping your demise with tears and sobs
that intermittently accept the kind words
with polite nods that say I cannot speak right now
Only neologisms can save this day
in another language -
far away.

The swathed silk of a death-box is echoed in this makeshift space
Intoxication in a tent, made for the stink of remembrance
Suffocated gatherings; all exits hidden amongst rancid fabric

The playlist is you and you alone -
 "You...
are...
my...
angel"

Will the grave markers be side by side?
Engraved with hearts and doves;
maybe embedded with a small, gold frame
The ones that keep your photographs safe from the cold
whilst telling strange visitors that this was once so real
Or maybe they will hutch you both up in one hole?
eternally fighting for room (and the duvet)
a dual feed for flora, thriving on putrid juices
and rotting flesh.

The lights blow, the satin billows, glasses shatter
the mourners cease their morbid revelry
A wisp of something flies, it becomes dark and cold
I start to smile, I knew you would come
Never one to miss a party, especially your own
The drapes are dragged and torn
your guests cower in the missing corners
their faces morphing into true-form; monstrous hatred
A hurricane rips through this fake parlour
It rampages against the non-existent boundaries of grief
"Have fun" appears, dripping in blood-red graffiti
from the presentation stage - the focus ... the pyre
Your memorial table is cleared within seconds
The carefully wrapped tokens of patronising sympathy
crash to the felt-boarded floor, mingling with party trash

A gentler light enters (stage left), calming your hateful storm
Facing each other, cancelling out their judgement
You picked her up and left then, forever
 - after that final "fuck you"
with an angry last shout; you are gone
I told them you wouldn't like those flowers
but they didn't listen;
so I'll stand before your lolly-stick cross
underneath my see-through umbrella, in the rain
Remembering the time we cremated hope, very quickly


~ Copyright Charlotte Sometimes aka SRWB 2010

Apocalypse With Stoli

If I alone were to sit here
waiting for rivers to run red
and earth to crack underfoot
I would simply drown myself
in narcotic slumbers
and Stolich-nay-aaah elite

"Smooth like an alibi"

Staying alive would be far
from my madding mind
Stillness and drunken rambling
protecting all known secrets
clutched as a desperate shaken fist
until the tragic end of days

"Everyone is someone's secret"

But I find myself a protector
of more than secrets (and lies?)
Nothing to do but turn them away
and wait; whilst tightly defending
a cherubs thoughts, in a moment
of realisation and death



~Copyright Charlotte Sometimes aka SRWB 2010