Fuzzy Recollections

Slow walk
Almost to stop
Hand in front
Flame hot
Reminds me of dreams
Of memories

One long candle
That burns the rest
The presence of the scent
Reminds me of past
Of tea in the mountains
Huddled round a fire
And too short moments

Late Spring

As she looks out, she only sees green
But over the hill there is more to be seen
The bump gets smaller, the baby comes out
She sees new horizons and consciousness sprout
New flowers by the castle all have re-grown
These eyes do perceive them with colour of their own
Fresh air fills her lungs as she breaths in the sky
Her heart plays the drums and the baby does cry

Pizzeria

5 A girl caught my eye
7 Onion and pineapple pie
7 She asked me to make it dry
2 OK
6 As I tried to dry it
9 The onions, they made me cry a bit
6 But the pie was divine
4 That's the last line

Current

Lips of drifting tidal

Ripple roll away

Glisten

Touching body braking

Slowly surge and swell

Splashes, remind us

We are not the droplets

We are all the sea

Samh

Gammy Jamming

29/03/2012

Come and see the folk band leg

With bodhran’s baton

Bellowing beats

Indenting a stretching skin

And the tight tuning tortures

Of a tendon violin

Collecting chords

Clamp residing pressure

Of the oboe deep within

Accordion aches

Pumping and swelling

Menacing mechanics make

The collecting clattering

Clashing keys

And singers

Creating harmonies

And all this with stage side seats

Lodged inside a bulging knee

Samh

Homing

17/03/2012

Empty, unconscious
Thoughts aside
Staring through the condensate
Two young girls
Wave across
But I can only smile
The calming, constant bumping
Cradles gentle sway
Hypnotising, locked in heat
Lingers, lethargically, through the day
Don't know how i got there
Or the time it took
But it was the correct destination
When my feet stepped off the bus

Samh

Absorbed

16/03/12

Stagnant air of adult
Boring shades of serious
Sinking draws, filled up clutter
Binding to the memories
Change that's wrapped in writing
Ladled logic soup
Scores of diced up, unread, classics
Consistent stirs and rippling loops
Eighty hidden sweet boiled gems
Tip to final hopeful step
One by one the polka dots
Hit the rusty deck

Samh

West Yorkshire

10/03/2012

Every inch void concrete, brick or stone

Blossoms beautiful bursts of nature

Crippled sticks creep through cracks

Of towns so full of nurture

Every margin man has missed

On every impossible angle

Land is steeped with climbing moss,

Shrubbery that does stand and tangle

Valleys denting rolling hills

Village dense survival

Where people, plants and precipitation

Are all equal friend to rival

Streams a winding mimic gliding

Landscapes cut from rock

Slants and slopes slither southward

With farmland sitting top

The sandstone, slate and dust collate

With rabbits, twigs and harvest

Creating colour scheming drawings

A crayon canvas with no artist

The weaving roads need willing walls

To warn off all the wild

Of dandelions and shrubbery

Encroaching from both sides

Houses, with the woodland

All hunching in a row

With embroidered finite fences

Failing to stop flora grow

Standing solid, spire churches

Are like pins stuck in a map

But at the very bottom

The graves lay under grass

Samh

Hoot

             06/03/2012

 Tight
 Endless
 Nervousness
 Yearning to be
 Emerging from this
 Arctic helplessness but
 Reaching calmly saying
 Open up is a family
 Let the body lead and the air
 Drop in so the rolling beat can move you.

I currently work for a company called Hoot, they have just turned ten years old.

www.hootmusic.co.uk

Samh

Fridge

10/01/12

What on earth to have for tea?

I wonder whilst I drink

A question, narrowed significantly

When I peer into the fridge

My eyes, first, glance the mouldy fruit

The cabbage and the mince

Defrosted, it was, weeks ago

No one’s checked it since

But what is this I see

Before me, is there something forming?

Maybe I could have this for tea

If it shows no signs of warning

I know now the nose knows best

Sniffing its smell is the ultimate test

Breath in sharply

I clamp down on my nostrils,

As tightly as I know how

As the whiff of wrenching waste

Squeezes on my bowels

Sensations of collecting vapour

Dampen my insides

Vibrations, like a caper

Sliding between the thighs

And yet I cannot slam the door

Or even move away

A smell that’s so horrific

It locks me in my place

Stretching out my nose

To this hypnotising stench

That reaches to my toes

And squeezes like a wrench

Arousal makes me wonder

If there’s beauty in this pain

And much admiration to gain

Do the senses find it so grotesque?

And ugly

That it’s exciting for the brain 

Samh


Here a recording at:
http://soundcloud.com/wirepipe/the-fridge