Coming Home?
We lie entwined, the silence
Between us punctuates the
Bardic tangle
Our very joining
Elemental, and now I
Feel all of me
Deep within, her
Murmured moans as
Moorland wind
The warm enclosure
Of her
Unforgettable, burned
In memories, suspended
At synapse, who could
Have known, that chance
Meeting, a poet, catalyst
To digital unfurling
“Single?” Maybe
“For you?” Definitely
Gin- trap mind
Perfectly encased, a
Porcelain shell
Living paradox
Powerful, brilliant, brave
Yet fragile, butterfly
Wings, perfect
Webs, freshly spun
Delicately poised in
Corners behind the
Weary facades of a
Long forgotten town
A star
Some other space
Long hidden in
Routine’s shadow, now
Burns bright, fierce
As flame, draws me
Now, moth-like. I drink
Your scent, touch
Your words
I know that
To bathe in the light
That’s you
Will wash
Warm
Fill me
And I will wake in
Another place, unknown
Yet familiar
I will ask myself
“Is this home?”
The Great Railway Station Robbery
Surrounded by the kind of silence
You only don’t hear at night
Broken only by thumping heart
And tinnitus hum of expectancy
Creeping to the fence with shotgun footfall
Grasping tight the tools of our temporary trade
Black bin liner to the left
Car wheel brace to the right
Something big going down the night
Of the great train station robbery
Trying to find a place to cross
We almost missed the gate
Where we could walk right on through
And reach the platform
Sleepy enough by day
But now under an umbrella of silence
That I call palpable
And our footsteps
Turned cacophonous
Amid our sensibillia haze
Before us we see
Its dark outline
We creep up close and there
Like the golden fleece
To the munchies crazed, the very stoned
Yes,oh mechanized wish granter
The cadburys chocolate machine
Furtive looks around us
Pulses race within us
Smack………..
I bring the wheel brace down hard
For a first time shatter
We reach beyond the sharded edge
Of the jagged hole, grabbing
Furiously at the pocket sized bounty
Bin liner greedily swallows
Dairy milk, whole nut, dairy crisp
Fruit and nut and we’re off
Tachycardia cuts through the bong haze
I swear I hear the bay of the hounds
And banshee wails of sirens abound
We burst into our place
Laughing manically now
Contents spilled out onto bed
And I remember the giggle of boy men
As they watch the multi coloured cascade
And brace themselves for the sugar rush
Of the finest cadburys could offer
A difficult journey lay ahead
Wasn’t gonna be easy I knew the risks
I’d never really liked dairy crisp
All of it was a game to me
Spent my nights smoking bongs
Snorting coke and talking shit
Listening to endless prog rock
My accomplice though
On the great train station robbery
He really was there to get a degree
Not to fuck about, playing Frisbee
At first we both went astray
But after a while it was just me
And while he knuckled down
I carried on peddling dope, going to gigs
And he didn’t want to play anymore
So I found new friends
Easy to do when you’re the dealer man
The man who can
In the end though
They didn’t want to play either
They were there for a reason
It wasn’t just about having fun
Like it was for this one
Then years later I saw him again
The great train station robber
Settled down, married and happy
Baby on the way
They called him doctor now
Didn’t seem like my rustic mate somehow
And me, I was still mooching around
Wearing black, an enigma
In my own mind
A high plains drifter
It struck me then and now
Maybe felt my first hint of regret
Him a respectable member of society
Not my country sidekick anymore
High flying research positions
Being flown off to Singapore
Me in illicit retail management
And words from school
Came back to me
A gifted student
Could do more
***
Nick spent most of his childhood in Cornwall, hanging out at the beach, enjoying the outdoor life, a mad- keen surfer and cyclist which he still does to this day. He is a musician and poet. Coming from a songwriting background Nick has been writing poetry with a view to performing for the past 18 months or so, although he has written simple little poems for as long as he can remember. A regular performer on the Devon poetry circuit, Nick writes on a whole variety of subjects from ecology, to food obsessions, dysfunctional upbringing, addiction, anti-Islamophobia, to an ode to a guitar. He may well not be as funny in real life as he is in his own head!
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