It has long been an ambition of mine to have more tattoos than I have arms and early last month I achieved my goal. Photographs have been photoshopped only to remove my middle aged spread.
I had the Samurai for quite a while and gradually added the Hanya Mask and the Koi over the past months, oh the smell of nappy rash cream and the lovely lovely peeling skin…..mmmmmmm….peeeling skin!
Artwork and Ink by Jo Pink at Nigel Kurt’s funhouse tattoos in Barnsley, well worth the long waiting list.
I spent the runaway night
trying to measure what would lie beyond a reprieve?
Some short attention span?,
a petition of petty promises made to outweigh the clawing mud
and unseen sharp edges yet to cut.
I tried my death of you,
down remembered paths to the water’s edge,
unseasonal and biting cold;
“I knew it wouldn’t last”
the mocking whispers from the reeds concurred,
but I swam downwards, regardless,
to where the vows were buried,
lusting after the end.
© D. Archer. July 2013
You tell me
that it’s all over,
I tell you
that it’s not over,
we go around in a perfect circle
and never speak again.
© David Archer. July 2013.
Coy my siren,
you lay in pin-up pose,
wearing a quiet smile
lips lust filled
with one perfectly painted
My neck you bit,
My ear you teased,
my heart too soon spent,
beached like a shipwreck,
my mouth dry to speech.
The bed only for sleeping now;
long gone your ruby-red thrills;
your perfume faded from the pillow,
replaced with tears
for the trust I killed.
© Copyright D. Archer October 2011
You sit in my one remaining photograph
unburdened eyelids closed
to the coming coloured weather
and I as with all the world behind you
find myself lost again,
drowning in life’s undertow,
blindly never thinking
until you went
you would ever
© David Archer. May 2013
OK people, you know the drill, pseudo sentimentality season is almost upon us, if we all join together in fighting this non stop commercial day of heart bleating soppyness we can get through the hours and get back to being our own lonesome selves.
You have been warned!
Image Copyright D. Archer. February 2013.
Sunday morning was meant to be spent listening to songs like these. Keep the faith.
From the corner of the room
where even the shadows hide from themselves,
along with the remains of the day
and everything worth saying, I stand
as close as the paper to the wall,
listening to your smile.
© D. Archer. September 2012
The rollercoaster dived
and in two hundred and forty seconds
my whole life left my chest;
reality derailed; headlong I plunged down
another broken track
destined for second best;
An unknown box car
gets to travel your french curves
whilst I sat motionless
feeling cheated by the dream operators’ words;
But time and distance are
no longer a concern of mine
not now I have seen up your nostrils
and heard the colour of your sky;
When the rollercoaster resumed
I realised I was sat at the top;
you had held my hand all the way there
and I was finally looking up;
I can sea the horizon
it is Quay shaped and fits me like a glove;
In the first four minutes I really was drowning
but by the fifth I was drowning in your love.
© Copyright D. Archer November 2011