HARVEY; A BOY SEEKING MEANING
A Boy Seeking Meaning is a collection of poetry I wrote and self-published during the COVID-19 pandemic. The book touched on a lot of personal and serious topics, from relationship issues to gentrification to the pro-life debate. It touched greatly on mental health and so it only felt right when selling copies during what many found to be an extremely difficult time, to donate the majority of the profits to mental health charities.
I enjoy writing on a range of topics, and in a range of tones and styles, most of the below are more serious, though a couple are (I hope) a bit more humorous.
Thailand, 2023
the lobster handed elephant trainer
red mud encrusted toenails
stand upon a phalanx of
emerald spears,
his cleft hands
brush against the
tarmac skin
and humid trunk
that drifts along that red mud
searching for gold
Seven Sisters Road, 2021
I took my AirPods out
as I stared at a lobster
claws tied up in an Asian supermarket
trying to eat a strawberry
'excuse me' someone said
as they tapped my shoulder
'sorry?' I replied
'are you going to pay for those?'
I chucked another strawberry in
and carried on listening to music
the shopkeeper wasn't happy
I don't suppose the lobster was either
Big Red, 2022
'So what's your name?'
I asked the old gentleman
who decided he was joining us for a game of pool
'Kev'
he replied, chalking his cue
'I'll break' I said, potting a single solid
Kev was a natural, stripe after stripe flew
into the pockets
like the hands of an awkward teenager in
new denim jeans
'You here a lot then Kev?'
I asked, looking over at him just in time
to see his wet dentures jump out onto the red felt
I was stunned
'Call it a draw I reckon eh Kev'
I didn't understand his reply.
Oyster shell ghosts
clams of calcified caches
a negative in the sand
of a boy in goggles
sanctums of seaweed
a red room of saline
and sunlight
petrified crab skins
turn to dust
underfoot
and soon
only shells remain
Deliverance
Raindrops stain the pavement
outside the infected home
where he treads upon
a cockroach underfoot
his skin slides off the bone
like wet meat
spilling amniotic fluid
onto the bathroom floor
it runs along the bathroom tiles
like an overflowing tributary
that molten fluid
staining all in its path
her likeness adorns the puddle
that soaks his feet
and stares up at him
at the husk he has become
the husk she has begotten.
Wrapped in B.E.D.
my stomach was full
and yet I ate
feeling sick, I gorged and gorged,
a stomach lined with lust
gastric greed,
I ate like I had never eaten before,
my trachea bled as I swallowed the broken ceramic,
tears came to my eyes as I shovelled in the tablecloth,
this hunger now suffocating me,
my jaw unhinged and my teeth fell out to make room for the table,
before I swallowed my tongue to make space for the chairs,
I found myself alone,
sat in an empty room,
surrounded by blood and dry wall,
and still I ate.
Here
Smelling of seawater, smoke and sweat,
we sit, telling stories of who we want to be,
upon the dark, mossy rocks that cut our feet
staring into the suffocating expanse of blue,
we know how it feels to be alone
so we taste the salt from each other’s lips,
and run our fingers along each other’s skin,
the folds and crevices now cartographic outlines,
a map with no clear destination,
the outlines of her body now coastlines,
shores I never want to depart
we forget about the world for a second,
at least the parts of it we want to forget,
unburdened by borders I explore the hills of her hips,
and gently climb the summit of her breasts,
I fall into the cavern of her mouth,
her teeth, stalagmites and stalactites,
my tongue – an unwary explorer
discovering swathes of waxen beauty
and plains of moon-lit pastel
carefully tracing down her body,
before we sit, adorned with seafoam and sand
thinking of tomorrow,
basking in the heat
and cradling grasshoppers