Category: Poetry

And you are like that one thing
that’s just out of reach by
a hand that can only go as far as
a Facebook wall,
a box of badges,
a good picture on a memory stick.
Each day is a day away
from when you were here
and when you are not.

In this, the fourth year of Bamjee-Mayet:

There are no side-kicks here.
We save this world together.

—

Without you,

it was another lifetime.

With you

is all of this life,

all of this time.

—

 

I will chase your ghosts

on google,

search out your face

in every pixel,

pocket the sparks

your wit threw into the corners.

 

It is as if you have
lived five times over,
moving from mountain to mountain,
carrying our hearts on top of your own.

Here.
Take this.
Break this.
I must hear it
shattering.
Now.
Stand on it.
Grind into it.
Make the goddamn
dust sing.

I knew a boy
who puffed and passed on the roofs of higher education
with women who did no good for him,
who had his open heart shat in,
who then faked it because it was just harder to be real,
who dreamt too big for his head,
who did too crazy for us all,
who grew up
to become a father.

a belly swells only
with a yearning.

a list of names
full-stops on a stain.

I put poems
in your pockets
for you to find
when you are cold.

where there is love
there is God
where there is love