Monday 11 March 2013

Poem 3 - Train to Glasgow


Poem I found in my diary, written on the train to Glasgow from Edinburgh Waverley on August 28th 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 28th 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, 25th February 2013

Poem 1 Snowy Mountaintop


Thursday, 26th 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