I don’t need this
anymore than you do
I’ve taken all that I
can hold
all that I could
hope for
I wish that I could
breathe through
all this city smoke
all these broken hearts
all these silent stars
all these neon lights
shining so lonely and
blue just for you
now I’m tired of the lies
and I’m tired of the truth
now everything golden
has gone
I don’t believe this
even though it’s true
I saw you smile and it
made me smile too
now I curse all the rain
and all the flowers
that bloom
tell me why do they
die so soon
now I’m tired of
the lies
and I’m tired of
the truth
now everything
golden has gone …
Clay.M

To love yourself is an art.

Nameless men sketch their fantasies along my hips
admiring me as I were their
                                                           masterpiece.

**** in an antique wooden frame
    that hangs by my throat,
                                                            gagging.

I am somewhere
in the distance
in that place you can
no longer reach
I watch the dust dance
in a stream of
yellow light
as the shadows shift
they become obsolete
like tiny deaths
I wish I could learn to
laugh again like
mad children
I wish I could whisper
the pleasant dreams of
fallen angels
as the moon hangs in
half light
there is a sadness in
your voice a loneliness
like mine
from your lips drift
a thousand sorrows
maybe if we close our
eyes the world won’t
seem so sad
we will meet beneath
the covers of
untouchable love
we will make our way
to the wild coast
looking out across
the endless mad ocean
we will watch the
ghosts rising like smoke
above the angry waves
we will hear the heavy
breath of an angry god
and if I hold your hand
without a single word
do not be alarmed by
my awkwardness
I can not compete with
the poetry of waves …
Clay.M

I was on a train from
Paris to Amsterdam
and with an empty page
a sad smile and a pen
she was looking out
the window across
the apple green fields and
into the valleys of cobbled
villages and ****** churches
and as the dead air of Paris
was leaving my mind
I began to read the reflection
of questions in her eyes
I wanted to tell her what
she already knew
that the answers are in
the rhythm of the rails
and to only underline
the words that matter ...
Clay.M

When the sky is
dressed in midnight stars
and my mind is heavy
with questions
I let these tiny dreams
spill between the blinking
lights of the city
I know words sound
better at night
when the silent stars
cloud the sky of every
lonely hunter
I read the old poets
the teachers of
sorrowful things
I know she is here
I see her smile through
the dusty light
I am high enough
to see the ugly
side of heaven
I am high enough to
feel insignificant
and if I happen to fall
from this great height
how soon will I be
forgotten …
Clay.M

I wake up early
with this poem in my pocket
and the sound of the sea
my arms stretched out
across a crimson sky
the sun rise of
untouchable love
I catch my
invisible breath
I see you smile only
in my memory
the waves of emotion
are reaching out for a
soft place to land
as the wild flowers bloom
in an open field of a
thousand sleeping wishes
I miss what I
decided to destroy
when the spring wind screams
at this world of broken dreams
I search for level ground …
Clay.M

I found this poem
undressed in a
restless - evening
I listen to the whispers of
butterfly - wings
my questions are
confused
the stubborn moon
only answers in
dramatic - rhythms
why does my mind
always run back
to those mountains
so far from me
I am a foreigner here
a fragile thing
I heard you are
writing again
I heard your
voice has become so
beautifully - Innocent
I know that I
stood in your way…
Clay.M

There is a silence before the war
a fragile anticipation

throwing flowers into the sea
I watch them drift into
the setting of the sun

now dripping in winter shadows
I have fallen into a wind swept field

I found love in your sad eyes
then watched as it flew away
like a sea bird in a storm

now I see you in the distance
like a soft piano memory

in the stillness of simple things
midnight taps at my window
all past wars are now
hiding in heartbreak

now as the light grows dim
there is a soft touch of peacefulness
a dark chord on a blue guitar

I can not sleep
it is not over …
Clay.M

It’s a new morning
the ghosts of old ideas
howl like lost dogs
I open the window
like a book of secrets
the air is clean with
a hint of Jasmine
the olive tree is
whispering wisdom
while the lazy breeze
dances with the leaves
I listen to the
language of birds
I hear poetry in the
slow movement of time
I admire the colour of
Lavender
I drink my peppermint tea
I pretend - I write
I am far enough away
to feel a spark …
Clay.M