In between love and loss
I tread water
Under a black sky
Fighting the tide
In between love and loss
I think too much
Standing on the wrong side
Of a broken bridge
In between love and loss
I see pictures fade
And memories licking wounds
As I walk forever
In between love and loss
Everything that seeks attention
Is forcibly ignored
Contentment is turmoil
©JMcN2013
No Baptists at the river
No fish in the sea
No faith in the system
Don’t pray for me
No heroes for peace
No end to the wars
No banker in jail
Despite being the cause
Of all what’s wrong
Invisible money makes a deal
The devil gorges on the flesh
Hunger is all that’s real
No salvation army
Just automatic clichés
Soldiers don’t see the light
Just hear Generals speeches
No saints in the making
Amongst the chosen few
Those that govern
Will never hear your view
History is full of poverty
We create life to burn
What is that we teach
That our leaders never learn
No innocence at the alter
God does not walk this earth
We are not judged by principles
It’s all about monetary worth
©JMcN2013
Next To Me
I fell into your eyes
That summer in June
I did not see you coming
You never saw me swoon
That crash against your lips
Was cushioned by a kiss
I remember it so well
It’s still the thing I miss
I wandered through your smile
To be seduced by your laugh
And the way you flipped your hair
Used to cut me deep in half
Everything that you did
Was beautifully insane
I used to watch you fall asleep
Just to watch you wake again
Next to me
©JMcN2013
‘I’m off on my adventure mum, I’ll be back for tea’
‘Okay don’t be late and don’t do anything that will get you into trouble’
‘I won’t’
‘Take your picnic with you I’ve put extra biscuits in for your friends’
‘Thanks mum’
Dougie closed the door and ran off to the big dark imposing building with its huge green doors and thick padlock and chain that kept its secrets in. The small crack in the wood of one of the doors allowed Dougie to peek in but it was so dark inside he could just about see different shapes of what that looked like boxes. He felt guilty that he’d not been honest with his mum, he wasn’t going anywhere with friends today he was going on his own personal adventure.
‘not many 10year olds would do this’ he said to himself ‘I’ll be the first and all my friends will be jealous’ which made him smile.
Dougie looked at the tree he was going to climb it wasn’t that difficult a task and he had reached the first branch during a test run the week before. He was convinced that he could crawl along the top branch that stretched on to the roof of the building he wanted to get into. The grand plan was to climb down the chimney like Santa does and see the secrets of this abandoned place. He pretended he was a pilot doing a checklist, tighten rucksack straps, nothing in pockets, old blue plastic milk crate in place for first step on to the tree, no one looking, deep breath and go.
The first branch was easy as were the next five then things got a bit sticky the big branch that led to the roof was still four thin branches away. Dougie pulled at a thin branch to see how strong it was, it didn’t snap so he climbed on to it. He did the same test for all the thin branches all fine his confidence growing he was really beginning to enjoy this adventure. It was 10 am on a scorching day in July he was up a tree about to land on the roof of a building that every child he knew had a different idea of what was in this mysterious place and he was about to conquer and tell! Other than a few scratches Dougie finally reached the base of the big branch. His heart began to beat faster he was slightly nervous as he crawled across but he was now just above the roof and only a few feet from the chimney. Finally he was ready to step on to the roof which was 30 feet from the ground. Right foot down feels ok left foot down, what was that noise?
Dougie though he heard a strange creaking sound but convinced himself that it was probably the big branch bending back into shape after he got off it. Two more gentle steps the chimney was an arm’s length away this was the stuff of superheroes. Then it happened. The creaking noise was the old asbestos roof finally giving in. A hole appeared right beneath Dougie’s feet and he was falling towards the floor of building. ‘MUM MUM HELP ME MUM’ he screamed as he hurtled towards what he knew must be a hard floor. ‘I’m sorry mum’ he cried as the guilt poured in. He was terrified and crying so hard that he hadn’t noticed that he was still falling long after he should have landed.
He also didn’t notice that he had been falling for at least 2 minutes or that he was the right way up! He stopped crying wiped his stinging eyes with the base of his hands. The falling continued but somehow it seemed soft. Everything was tar black there was nothing around him not even a noise to comfort him yet he no longer felt scared. He tried different positions on this amazing descent, sitting in a chair, lying on a settee, driving a car, flying, running in mid air this was fun.
To be cont.
©JMcN 2013
Bobby stepped off the coach at Victoria Station, a shithole full of fumes and creepy rats scurrying in between the terminals looking for lost dumbfucks like him to cajole into darkness or rob and disappear. There are too many people here. The country boy guide book (folklore) shows the path of misfortune. If you’re broke its bedsit land for the first few days then if you find work maybe a studio flat or shared accommodation or if the money runs out before you get a job you run back home to the shit that drove you away.
Bobby met a couple of heroin soaked people who made promises they would never recall. He felt sorry for them until they kicked the shit out of him and stole his money except the small stash he kept in his shoe. He would remember them. Shepherds Bush was busy lots of different coloured people leading grey lives Bobby checked the address he had written down just after stepping out of a phone box full of broken windows to find a £20 note on the floor. ‘This makes up for the drug fuckers thievery’ he thought and smiled at his good fortune.
Crow House was a tall almost stately building that was in need of a wash. A 1930’s Town House that was probably ashamed of itself now. Bobby rang the bell a portly woman in an apron holding a mop looking older than she probably was opened the door. The woman seemed in a rush and looked like she was in the middle of cleaning the place, sweat like raindrops on windows were easing their way down her forehead. ‘come een’ she said paddling her hand towards her ‘I show you the rooma’ Bobby decided she must be Italian even if she wasn’t. The House was split into a couple of flats and 5 or 6 bedsits. The carpet on the stairs was cheap deep red and patterned with silver seahorses, which frankly is fucking weird. ‘This is the rooma, you paya deposit and I calla for the renta every Friday in da morning or in da evening’ she opened the door and left him to inspect.
Bobby glanced around thinking ‘this is the size of six open coffins’ before asking himself how the fuck he came up with such a picture. A single bed stuck in the corner with blankets that look liked they’ve been stolen from vagrants in the park. There was a sink with a small white boiler above it providing water hot enough to burn your hands every time you turned on the tap. A two ring cooker sat on top of a table resigned to its fate. A bigger ugly brown table with a linoleum cover and three arthritic chairs (‘why three’ he thought) were opposite the bed. The most striking thing about this room was its piss yellow ceiling complimented by a deeper piss yellow light. The wallpaper was of course piss yellow too with strips of it arching like a swan’s neck as it peeled itself towards the floor. There was a three bar electric fire that seemed to be waiting to malfunction and burn the place down ‘da fire is onna da meter’ said the Italian woman ‘thatsa fuckinga expensiva’ Bobby thought.
Bobby handed Italian woman the deposit she gave him two keys one for his room and one for the main door. He thanked her closed the door and walked over to the window to admire the view of other people in other bedsits looking at him.
He was tired it was late he laid down on top of the bed took a book out from his rucksack that had been left on the coach by someone. It was called The Wild West. He opened it read the first twenty pages about a lone cowboy pioneer. He smiled thinking ‘just like me’ before easing into sleep.
©JMcN2013
At 17 everything I knew
Was nothing
I fell in love
Every other week
I thought possession
Was part of the courting
My older sister said it was
Her boyfriend agreed
I tried it for myself
It backfired
I felt smaller
Than I had before
At 17 I was probably 15
Even though I could drive a car
I still acted like I was at school
Trying to make a girl swoon
The summer was noisy
A cacophony in fact
I only say that because
It was a word I had discovered
The fairground seemed old
But girls were there in groups
I was with Johnny Boy Wonder
He made the girls sigh
Though I never understood why
At 17 I did foolish things
And woke up in a cell
I got off with a warning
This town was bigger than me
Jobs were uninspiring
Love was not how I
Thought it would be
So I left and went abroad
This was wholly unexpected
And surprised my family
And me
©JMcN 2013
She found a pillow full of scars
On a blood stained bed
In a rain soaked room
Where a dream lay dead
The hole in the roof
Let the moon shine through
She could see her truth
As it fluttered and flew
The door was creaking
Curtains danced a tired dance
She seemed to be speaking
Whilst staring in a trance
I’m not here I’m not on trial
I am not dead or alive
I float in a sea of denial
It helps me survive
She noticed a spider
Weaving a new web
She felt deep inside her
Nothing has been said
That she wanted to say
She fell to her knees
But she didn’t pray
Or say forgive me please
What’s done is done
Now its for others to do
Her life was undone
Her skin turned blue
©JMcN2013
