Poem 3 - Train to Glasgow

Poem I found in my diary, written on the train to Glasgow from Edinburgh Waverley on August 28^th 2012 which would otherwise have been lost:

As the sun sets on the borderlands

And the crispness of the Scottish air

Takes an hour to envelop round the chest

And shooting though the walls of Victorian industry

There is the purple shot of thistle

Broken up by Caledonian mountainfields

And the smell of hops and juice of gardens

At Carfin Station I am phoned

For two arms to spread at Glasgow Central

As I have decided to make my life in this country.

Jorik Mol – train to Glasgow, August 28^th 2012

Poem 2: Black Dog #1

Black Dog #1

I just spat on my father's photograph

I have his nose, my friends have said

I've tried to rid myself of anger

Roaring down the streets, roaring from within

But there is no such thing.

As we break

And winter on stockinged feet returns to spring

The tiles o' the time stare mockingly

From underneath the ice

At sightless eyes

I disagree with the term black dog

But I can feel it settling down, next to me

Somehow my protector

Less benefactor legal

More Prometheus's eagle

There might be, if I'm lucky

Mornings where I leave myself behind

There were those years when I tried

To become another person,

They are not to be repeated.

My friends think I'm a genius

My father thought I was an idiot

They are both wrong

I am neither.

I am mostly nothing.

I am a black dog

Staring through the ice at nothing

Amsterdam, 25^th February 2013

Poem 1 Snowy Mountaintop

Thursday, 26^th July 2012

There's a snowy mountaintop

Made of memories and dust

There's blood in there

And sweat and boredom

That's holding it from shifting

I am this glacier

Cracking, tearing at the seams

Falling in an avalanche

Falling cracking lumps apart

Breaking up and breaking off

Parts and pieces

Bits of me

Limb from limb

Veins from arteries

Bones from lungs

It tears me asunder

Breaking apart

Fall out in pieces

Fluids on the floor

Blood in fountains

Flesh ripped away like grass by scythes

Red and grey and brown and white

Pink and blue

Torn off in shards of colour

In an empty black ocean

All leaving light and torn apart

All raining, dripping, slipping down

Leaking over stones

Written in words

In blood and charcoal

Written as if fingerpaint

On a snowy mountaintop

Some poems

Comin' up!

Some poems I have written over the last year. Hope you like 'em!

More comedy coming up later in the year. I'll keep you posted with future plans.

x

Jorik