Barrista

Appreciation of simple pleasures

Is something that grows on you

Out here.

I have water to drink.

This is good.

I won't die today.

Not from dehydration anyway.

There is food to eat, so starvation

Is also out.

I have clothes.

I can afford to shop at a supermarket.

I can sit in this coffee shop

And spend the same as week's worth of my cleaner's wages

On a drink and a cake.

Funny.

She will probably never sit on these seats,

Or drink coffee drinks out of tall, glass mugs.

Is that unfair?

No.

That's just how life is.

The Furnace

Heat.
Like stepping out into..
What?
A sauna.
But without any steam.
Or a door.
Your body screams,
"Turn back!
Get back on the plane!"
But something inside you smiles.
Something purrs deep in the pit of your stomach.

Adventure.

Dust.
For miles around,
Stretching out in every direction.
Making the still, hot air heavier.
It slides into your toes,
Mulches into the sweat on your plastic sandals.

Wind.
There is none.
No gentle breeze to relieve your dripping brow.
No ferocious gusts to sway the palms.

Just the dusty, dense, dry heat.

Test

How high can you jump?

Really high?

Prove it.

And so he jumped,

And he fell,

But he never got up..

Five Card Hold 'Em

Chips clatter, crumpled cards cover
The beer-stained table.
Voices are low, strained from years
Of abuse; domestic arguments,
Football matches,
Alcohol.

A man watches as his week's wages
Slip smoothly into another man's pocket.
He'll win it back tomorrow with what
Spare change he can scrounge
From the ever unwilling public
And sofa cushions.

The keeper calls last orders,
He says he'll stay for one more,
To put it on his tab.
He'll pay it all back with tomorrow's win.
Assurances as empty as his glass.

He shuffles through the night,
Back to his one-room apartment.
The bathroom is at the end of the hall,
Too far tonight, he pukes out of the window.
A faceless voice shouts abuse from the dark,
Fleeting moment of human contact
Before the night sidles in through
The open smoke-tainted pane,
Carefully smothering him,
Pushing him down,
To bed.

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More Than Just Play

The view:
A lattice of wood,
Arms reaching out to greet one another
As old friends reunited.

The gentle breeze is scented
With firs and wild garlic.

The sounds are magical.
A hundred birds compete to fill the air with their song;
A bell chimes and overhead a plane engine moans
As a small power drill squeals to challenge its magnificance.

The witches practice their incantations,
The apparitions' chant floats on the breeze,
Sinister and deathly,
Silencing the birdsong.

Steel sings out as swords meet on the field of battle,
The clatter of weapons rings across the greenery;
The grass shivers in anticipation,
The trees lean closer, eager,
Willing on the champions.
Suddenly there is another sound;
The sword is swung
But rather than blade
It finds flesh.
A splutter.
The drag of steel
Against bone.
The fight is won.

A cold wind unbends the trees,
Turns the grass away.
The warrior's body lies
At peace.

The grass is soft and warm,
The sun, bright and relaxing,
The air, cool, fragrant,
Scented with garlic
And rose petals.

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Virtuous Liar

I can be that mistake you make,
A punch-drunk error,
One night friend.
I can be the night of laughter,
Of passion,
Never repeated nor regretted.

I can be your friend,
Forever at your side.
I can be your enemy,
Always holding you close.

A brother,
Supportive and trusting,
Violent and guilty.

Your past, future,
Now, lying next to you,
Keeping myself alive,
Holding you close,
Draining your warmth.

The quiery is not 'can I be trusted?',
Rather 'can you trust me?'

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I Am A Traitor

I am a soldier,

I am a fighter,

I am a life-saver,

I am a force of nature,

I am destructive,

I am submissive,

I am a saviour,

I am a failure.

I am a demon,

I am a god.

I am finite,

I am life-long.

I am defined

By every breath

And every movement

Which I take

And make.

I am a hunter,

I am the prey,

I am a tiger,

I am a snake,

I shall lead you into

Temptation,

And deliver evil

To your door.

I am a singer,

I am a dancer,

I am an actor,

I am a director,

I am on stage,

I'm in your mind,

I'm unforgettable,

I'm undefined.

I am nothing more

Than the sum of my heart's

And mind's

Desires.

I am madness.

I am your deliverance,

I am your prison cell,

I am your charity,

I am the gates of hell,

I am a consumer,

I am a product,

I am a speaker,

I am obnoxious.

I buy brands like Walkers and Heinz

Not because I adhere to the commercial-driven society

Which plagues our every waking moment

But because they taste fucking good.

I am a comic,

I am a rapper,

I am serious,

I am sincere,

I am political,

I am correct,

I am a player,

I am alone,

I'm indecisive,

I'm out of touch,

I'm in your closet,

I know too much.

I'm undeniable unobtainable, unenchanting, yet so very

Desirable.

I am a reader,

I am an author,

I am a publicist,

I am a masochist,

I am a belief,

I am a sin,

I am an idea,

I am a grin,

I am gorgeous,

I am wild,

I am a child,

I am hatred,

I am pain,

I am disgust,

I am vain.

I am religious,

I am a martyr,

I am a lover,

I am a sinner,

I am a smoker,

I am a driver,

I am a half-baked, pretentious wannabe who can't find balance between trying to hard and not hard enough.

But how you label me does not matter,

I am

Who I am.

I don't need to change,

I don't have to alter.

My skin is my own,

I wear it with honour.