The past reverberates through me in the present

stains my clothes pungent.

At fifteen, a boy stole the solace of the dark from me

in his bed

with his hands.

Now when he touches me,

he must keep the lights on.

In sleep the past has me,

travels upwards, claws at my throat

and I cry out

for the dark to let me in.

At twenty, the boy who stole the solace of my...

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I’ve lived around the world.

In fact I moved when I was 18,

I left my home and found another,

But was that home?

Layered bricks and walls with posters,

soft warm bed and candles lit by it

to make it

home-y,

But was that home?

‘a house is not a home’

yet I still feel like I really miss

my house, where my mom and my cat

are waiting patien...

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Looking around the scenery bores me I can't lie

Almost as if the walls ignore me the paint won't dry

Too stubborn to settle..repairs go back to unrepaired 

Once prepared now unprepared 

Scared of change but now not scared 

Light bulbs pop  blown fuses 

Trying to compromise with the boiler 

But he refuses 

Doors on and off..conflict with hinges 

The freezer won't stop cry...

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Tufts of dust 

Caper about my mosaic glass.

Blotches of ferric rust 

Offer me an unceremonious welcome at last.

Things I'd once befriended

Seem distant and cold.

Deaf ears to the chime of my footsteps

Tell me they've forgotten their companion of old.

I wonder when those mellifluous repartees

Turned into hollow echoes,

And the blithe breeze 

Into a stiflin...

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Corners caress the bricks

breading that familiar shape,

in which to pace fingertips,

reimagine and fall

the abode of cliché,

the same smitten desires,

plotted here in prints of feet

the way they moved,

the way they moved,

the way they moved,

nostalgic tracks swoon you low

to the floor, roused but not here.

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We love to have a tidy house
But we really don't like to clean it
If only someone would tidy up
I would have some place to sit
Days pass and nothing changes
Till you feel that nauseous pit
Then you realise the rooms a mess
And it makes you want to quit
As you start to clear up all of it
You think to yourself, "oh shit,"
"How did I ever live like this?"
It's really quite a tip
Time flie...

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Home is where the heart is
but where is the heart
It lies in wonder and glory
Or is it in the fame of society

I can't seem to find home

Is it in the light rays of hope
or in shallow waters of pain
A house never feels like home
or is it just the lonely heart speaking

I can't seem to find heart
for since the beginning
 it's divided
into two part

So maybe i'll keep looking
for t...

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When I have gone

what waits this room

with its vacuum

                where I sat?

Does

my chair sits sightless

musing at my absence

midst space bereft

                   my music play on?

After I have left

ask my empty bed

all sheeted void

                about my dreams

Does

my mattress dent

minding my long night wraiths

maintain my ...

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I caught you peeking through the window,

Of this old abandoned house,

Finely crafted from the dreams I left behind.

I stopped you dead in your tracks,

The tracks I once wandered when I discovered this realm.

How did you find me through this smoke?

It was much to blinding for me.

You took my hand and walked away,

Only pulling half of me with you.

If just for a moment...

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YOUR HOUSE

You build your home in a dangerous place: don’t you think you’re at risk against nature’s might? A danger of landslides and bush fires all waiting to happen to you and your little home. You say the view is great and there’s so much land.

Just stop and think, remember back to last year and the tragedy when ten died fighting to save what was theirs and failed.

Now you...

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CONVERT

Old factory was due to be knocked down and turned into rubble, recycle the materials and use the land again. A new start? Yet this building is structurally fine, a few broken windows and missing tiles, the idea of demolition is okay but you lose the heritage and a piece of history. Is that a good thing? How about doing it up and converting it to flats?

Keeping the building...

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ROOM HOUSE TELLY WINE

Time stands still in a front room in early ’95.

The telly is on but the sound is off,

All About Eve plays on the stereo,

soft vocal tones and powerful guitar.

The clock says a time but that doesn’t matter

as here it is timeless.

Bev drinks a glass of wine

while I have the rest of the bottle

and a full bottle of Thunderbirds.

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