Heroin Moon

under the strobe of a heroin moon

Emma has a mission to make oxygen masks hipper
yet ultimately it comes down to tits and teeth
and summer licks
the bass line and the drum in sync
E-motion moves
dancing girls in giga byte soundwaves
with micro dot eyes sea leg jive
drives the suicide kings to death by tears
or so the story goes

and i’ve been told
to keep the snap snap papparazi happy
this age of plenty is a myth in the making
from stage diver to mini cab rider
according to the rush hour road kill
retrospective prophecy
youth over
easy

 

©2008 P.A.Levy
First published 2009 by The Clockwise Cat

 

In Gob We Trusted

we were only playing at being kids
sat timeless on the bridge
legs kicking air
gobbing into the murky cannal

you tilted your head back
to achieve a greater velocity
then catapulted your whole body forward
projecting a glutinous missile of gob
at a plastic bottle
bob-bobbing-bob
in the act of drowning

such a squeal of delight
(as if you’d won the world cup)
as the phlegm sliding slug-like slid
from the bottle
into sludge brown water

it’s just like life you victoriously proclaimed
in the fashion of an after dinner speaker
to be a success
set your sights and with all your might
go for it

I stood up - unzipped - aimed - exclaimed
life’s a pissing game

the bottle finally sunk
with two glugs and a resounding plop
so we headed home
for tea and jam sandwiches

 

©2008 P.A.Levy
First published 2009 by The Legendary

 

 

Jericho Men

on their way home from the pub the men
with their shirt sleeves rolled-up
ready for good old-fashioned violence
shout at a wall
urinate against it to demonstrate contempt
throw bottles as an act of intent

aggressively the wall collapses
towards them
the men in their rolled-up shirt sleeves
have their faces smacked
by their own voices
instantly they are emotionally crushed
but from under the rubble they’re couch
ready for a spot of therapy

because these days we’re all camera
protected and the current trend tends to be
wire fences
it makes shouting pointless
as the sound goes right through
and is never heard again

 

©2008 P.A.Levy
First published 2012 by Pyrokinection

 

iBlonde

molotov cocktails
high heeled expletives
napalm hot
primed and ready
i am your conception the
glossy purr perfection
blonde bombshell
now be careful not to go off
in my hands
SPLAT!

then there’s the tension
the trepidation of
a booby-trapped kiss
from a lover you know will
break your heart into little bits
(time and time again bomb)
but in his arms
an atomic reaction

and when he looks into my eyes
he sees my history
documented into a dolby surround
soundtrack of him telling me
i’m beautiful i fall
head first
in the fermenting odour of poor
judgement

but never mind all that
he took my number
POW!


© 2013 iDrew
First published 2013 by Black Mirror (mag closed)

 

iHoliday

after we made the sun
and taken great care with all the stars
lighting up every one
we filled our universe with hard core
drum and bass
danced from midnight to noon
totally off our our face
i thought this summer would never end
i was wrong

it was back to the weekly grind
the clock always ticking the phone
always ringing stuck in traffic
without a song
nothing good will come of this
all my footsteps
are full of bass buzz
because i thought this summer
would never
end
i was wrong

© 2013 iDrew
First published 2013 by Reality Beach #3

 

iSocks

my bed socks are poetry
my bed a womb in afterglow
my toes like curled embryos
my position foetal as i lay alone
my love plan was made in taiwan

my broken sleep spooked and un-dreamt
my whispered longings now never said
my dresses look like ghosts of me
my epitaph reads ‘died unnaturally’
prematurely

my haunted heart has memory
my bed socks are knitted poetry
i’m cold
come back my love and cuddle me

 

© 2013 iDrew
First published 2013 by Pink. Girl. Ink.

 

Still Love

in the dead of night i took it (i named her it)
into the winter orchard cradled in my bare arms
like a wild animal scraping away at the dirt
i dug a hole my nipples cried
soaked into the earth
thirsty earth

then you walked in
late
the telly was still on even though
i’d not been watching anything but light flickers
you said we were dead
but i ignored you i don’t want things to end this way

i laid it to rest the soil not frozen yet but cold
and as if mumbling a prayer i was thinking of
its conception when my inner thighs were sticky
and moist with cunt juice and sperm
and now as my inner thighs again sticky
and moist this time with blood and afterbirth

all you can say
with alcohol breath and the scent of
another’s perfume clinging to your work suit
its over
we are the ashes of dust

 

© 2012 Charlotte De’Ath
First published 2013 by Bad Acid Laboratories


I Died, Again

lay with me and die let me twirl your final
breath between my fingers
to rest on my blue lips and form your name
close my eyelids
like a curtain call i can see the shade of kisses
echo from the killing floor of my romances

in your arms i am a womb ghost
as ectoplasmic night-time love songs
crackle over scratches on old records
the needle gets stuck love ^ love ^ love ^ love ^ love
until we crash against the turntable
violently undoing each other down to our bones
quickening towards the wholeness of our heaven

but it won’t last
and you will leave me a black reflection widow
slowly turning to dust you walk out the door
and into the graveyard histories buried
under my bed with every headstone i had loved to death

 

© 2013 Charlotte De’Ath
First published 2013 by Bad Acid Laboratories