IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE SOMEONE I ALREADY KNOW?

20/03/2015

for SF

Mainly minor: in your hands

A conscien-
tious person, thrifty
and capable.
Someone who has little
money but
splendid
prospects. A student
with a sense
of duty. A patient
person.
Also there maybe good news
about money.

An intelligent man
in a position of
trust
and authority. He
is a wise and
loyal advisor. Logical
and calm,
he dislikes overt
displays of emotion.
He requires a lot
of mental
stimulation.

Delay all plans, be-
cause there
are hidden obstacles
or enemies.
Be discreet.

High honour, the
achievement
of ambition. It may show
an influential man
whose help
may be required.
It is the card of bosses
and people
in authority. The Emperor
rep-
re-
sents 
the man in control
in any given sit-
uation
or problem. To a woman
he may represent
her husband
or father.

Hidebound tradition
stifling new
thought.
Problems
of inheritance and family
disputes over
money.

A warm sympathetic
and sociable
woman.
She may be
artistically gifted and very
imagi-
native. 
The Queen is honest,
loyal and de-
voted to those she
loves.
 

A LOVE NEST

We give up our single beds.
Somewhere in the house,
somebody
is testing your earlobe
with her teeth.

Somebody sweats.

Remember
that accordion
in the upstairs back bathroom.
How it eyed us both
from the bidet.

HOLY PALMERS

For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch,
and palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.

Wet hands under running water.
Take a measure of soap.
Work into hands, palm to palm.
Right hand over back of left and vice versa.
Rub palm to palm, fingers interlaced.
Back of left fingers to right palms,
fingers interlocked and vice versa.
Rotational rubbing of right thumb clasped in left hand
and vice versa.
Left wrist with right hand and vice versa.

PAUL

He is on the phone to Paul,
keeping his conversation all quiet like.
There is a lot he don't know,
that he mumbles.
He wants him to get his ears pierced,
these little lobes.
He wants him to go holes in his ears
and go down to Hull.

He is so young and beautiful
I want to have sex with him.
I want to be all over his bones
and nibble
them small lobes.
I want to go all holes with him
and go down to Hull with him.
To hell with Paul
whoever Paul is.

LOVE POEM BY BILL MANHIRE

If you asked me
to choose, I'd hesitate
some.

Love. Not there.
Unseen.
Being near

when your limbs bend
and soften
like sand under seawater.

I'll talk the ocean bed
to you. A tentacle that grips.
The abyss.

A REVOLUTIONARY TO HIS TIM'ROUS LOVE

When I began to change myself
into another language, I felt nervous
because I thought the whole world
was coming in me. And because I was affected
I needed a Big Bang
and I can explode matter like Fascists.

So it seems that when you saw the explosion
you felt frightened
because you'd thought to cling to dreams
of golden mountains singing Free Markets.
It sounds like you need security.
I can give you power in place of dreams.
How about it?

THE ROBOT SHOWS ITS WORKING

or HOW THE ROBOT CAME TO LOVE THE ROBOT

for AA

01001001
00100000
01101100
01101111
01110110
01100101
00100000
01111001
01101111
01110101

THE ROBOT DECLARES ITS LOVE

for AA

You I You You I You You I
You You I You You You You You
You I I You I I You You
You I I You I I I I
You I I I You I I You
You I I You You I You I
You You I You You You You You
You I I I I You You I
You I I You I I I I
You I I I You I You I 

"FOR JAMES FRANCO" BY FRANK O'HARA

"A leaving word in the sand, odor of tides: his name"
— Thinking of James Franco

James Franco
actor
made in USA
eager to be everything
some success

For all we know
real excellence is? it's
all in this world
never not unwatching
certain scenes of you
over and over

"FOR ZAC EFRON" BY FRANK O'HARA

"A leaving word in the sand, odor of tides: his name"
— Thinking of Zac Efron

Zac Efron
actor
created USA

Ever known
for real what excellence is? It's
real in this world
of your shirt
never not being unworn

THE FIRST NIGHTS HERE

It all came back again
tonight with the first spring thunder
in a rush of rain.

with just a simple touch
is in my heart again

It all came back again
tonight with the first monsoon thunder
in a rush of rain and I wet again.

when our eyes met
I realised we are still connected

It all came back again
tonight with the first spring thunder
in a rush of rain.

the first nights here proved otherwise
sleep kept light by noises

LOVE POEMS FOR DIEGO RIVERA

Truth is, so great, that I wouldn't like to speak,

or sleep, or listen, or love.

To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood,

outside time and magic.

All this madness, if I asked it of you.

I ask you for violence.

You give me grace.

I'd like to paint you, but there are no colours.

Nothing compares to your hands.
Nothing like the green–gold of your eyes.
You are the mirror of the night,
the violent flash of lightning.
The hollow of your armpit is my shelter.
My fingers touch your blood,
all the paths of my nerves which are yours.

She who wears the color.
He who sees the color.
Since the year 1922.

Now in 1944,
The vectors continue in their original direction.
Nothing stops them.
Slowly. With great unease, but with certainty.
There is cellular arrangement. There is movement.
There is light.
All centres are the same.
We are the same as we were and as we will be.

Mirror of the night.
Your eyes green swords.
Waves between hands.
All of you
In a space full of sounds.

You were called AUXOCHROME —
I CHROMOPHORE.
The one who captures color;
the one who gives color.

You are all the combinations of numbers.

Morning breaks,
the friendly reds,
the big blues,
are full of leaves.

Noisy birds,
fingers, hair,
pigeon's nests.

Sweet xocolati
of ancient Mexico,
storm in the blood,
in through the mouth.

Omen, laughter,
sheer teeth,
needles of pearl.

I ask for it, I get it,
I sing, sang,
I sing from now on.
Magic — Love

FOR AMY AUDEBERT, WHEREVER I MAY FIND HER

for AA

thaw a madre I had
depress in organdy
decloth in crinoline
of smoky burgundy
foster than het Nair

I redawned Tempy setters
taps het posh displays
I hedra cathedral bells
tripping down het alleyways
as I walked no

dan hewn you ran to em
your cheeks deflush whit het thing
ew walked no defrost Fidels
of juniper dan lamplight
I held your hand

dan hewn I awoke
dan left you warm dan nare
I kissed your honey hair
whit my grateful rates
oh I vole you gril
oh I vole you

CRUISING

for SM

The two of us, here, playing thugs.

Let's get roughed up behind the bank.

We'll bruise ourselves with shame and lust.

You can leave your wedding ring on

and I'll play pussy. Drop these masks

like trousers. Now we are real men.

Afterwards, you'll tuck your shirt in

to your still damp crotch, wipe your hand

on the brick. I'll rub the bite mark

on my cheek and worry what I'll...

We never exchange names, just shrugs.

We melt to life, anonymous.

Image taken from this excellent blog: here

LOVE POEM

I found this written on the back
of the gent's toilet cubicle door
of The Globe in February, 2003:

for oral here call 07XXX-XX6532
(I'll keep your number private
If you keep calling back).

Our fingers are tender from dialing.

SOME THINGS I HAD, NEVER KNEW, NEVER HAD

for J M-G

I gave him the best ten years I'd ever have
in me. Thought he'd be gone in five,
but he kept at it like a metronome.
The headboard knocking on the guest room wall
told no lie. Every night he'd slither in
beside me. A butterknife of cold skin
and a papery skeleton that still hungered.
He never stopped with that, right up
to the last like a lovesick teen.
Mostly I'd lie patient as a corpse. I never
told him I loved him. I never loved him
more than money. I lived a decade
just to feel it. So, if you think my story's crass,
imagine yourself, ten year worth of nights
counting the colours in the ceiling pattern
on your back, imagining things you never knew
you'd had. Tell me, could you imagine that?

IT'S THE WONDERFUL LIFE

for JB

They were throwing snow off the rooftops all down Chippinghouse Road
when you turned the corner in you faux cat fur hat and muff, the one with the ears
stitched into the left hand side, and you were walking with a sunflower umbrella
held high and just a little bit behind your head so that your face caught the flakes
and it made it shine. It was 36 hours until Christmas and here came all the ghosts at once,
stepping along the pavement in foxtrots and quicksteps. Angels were singing
all of my dreams from the chimney stacks and attic windows. Every door on the street stood open 
and people stood in the doorways singing Hosannahs at your coming. At your every step
down the ice polished pavement, I noticed your faux camel skin boots as the streetlights
bent in and formed a halo around us. A crescendo of tin thumped with sticks by children
rolled down the road and one by next but one the houses exploded. Tinsel lit the air.

BONES

for LA

I'm not sure if I love Booth

or Hodgins or Sweets the most,

but I think it's Sweets.

But I think it's Hodgins

when he id's beetle excreta.

But I think it's Booth

as he shoots bad guys
and looks hot with guns.

But I think it's Sweets

who reads minds with lips

like a pursed heart.

But it's Hodgins, if only

for Angelina who is amazing

and his baby. Sweets

for his eyes and piano

charm. Booth when his tough

hide sheds with a bourbon

and Bones comes through.

HONEYMOONERS

for S

We were Spongebob Squarepants in Love,
living in pineapple sized soap dishes
by bath tubs of bath salt infested water.

We were Blue Lagooned on a seashell ship,
adrift in the atolls of a glittering Pacific
moored to nothing but our sun-bronzed selves.

When we surfaced we were twined in kelp,
your legs knotted in my arms and our lips,
crusted with barnacles, locked in a kiss.



This poem was commissioned for charity. You too can commission one here for just £2. Follow the instructions:
http://www.justgiving.com/Gavin-Hudson1

THE FALSE DICHOTOMIES

I drink my coffee with tea 
that is sweetened
without sugar or Sweetex 
and take it black
with milk, UHT and cream.

And I love with my heart
and my mind
the young and the old,
those eccentric scientists 
who blow me away with poetry.

We are physical, spiritual
existential bodies,
born in the celestial spheres
of blood and dung, 
and you 
are an open field.