and i

sitting down tense
in the dark night chair
don´t creak !
don´t wake him !
strive to breathe silently !
and i, my old sheet stained with salt, sperm, green seawater
taut like a force 8 is blowing
creaking, groaning, cracking
just holding
despite patches, compromises and rough repairs
my heart drumming
on the taut animal skin
it won´t last for ever

heart and a voice

i wish you that the voice reaches you through the lines, rulings, organisations, the winds screeching their beliefs, through industrial disasters, blighted lives, cor blimey trousers, televised horrors, revolving glass, dervish skyscrapers reflecting sexual desires, the predators with their apex cards, staring ambiguously at their slaves, and through those perversions prowling your night's mind. your heart that you have from your mother is no servant, no, no, quite the opposite. i wish you because you are born of woman and to spite the layers, the cultured drapes, clinging, seared into your skin, despite your brain wound as a massive industrial generator, its parts heat stamped with serial numbers, its coils and the thick honeyed epoxy, its moveable and stationary components, slopping around in acid baths, the stench of the seals and the burning tyres. your mouth may well be mouthing cruddy texts from the long gone, from talkers whose utterances chanced to stick on the wall o' tears, the singers, the judges and every ordinary human idiot who walked this little earth, scratching a micron off the surface before it's carelessly wiped away by rearranging nature, by the great mass murderer, the messenger without a message.
i wish me or you or someone or anyone that a voice sounds which you hear with your heart of different ages, the heart you have from your mamma, as you are born of woman, a voice : child, everything will be fine.