untitled
suspended pearl
like dust caught by sunlight
this part of me is precious and must not be
touched by unclean fingers
it’s so delicate
like a nuclear bomb
oh i see it now
it would destroy
it is perfectly capable
it would probably even enjoy
a great relief really
it’s waited a very long time
blackness
panther’s eyes
kill,
but also -
extreme serenity
maybe the moment between
the pressing of the button
and the explosion
this is where i live
september 2025
there’s fireflies here
there's fireflies here
on this quiet hill
one on my jacket even
and twinkling lights from the town across the valley
and the sound of crickets
and chickens
and dogs in the distance
and the sky is dark blue and pink.
but mostly it’s the feeling
something still and quiet and listening
and much much bigger than you or me
and i guess im telling you
because all you can do is sit there and receive and feel and imagine
and i wish someone could come and be here and feel it with me in real time
but that seems to be rare
and im quite protective of this rich quiet
tired of inviting then feeling it disappear between my fingers like wet newspaper
so i won’t risk it this time
ill enjoy it alone
and capture this feeling in a bottle
maybe with one or two of the fireflies
and release it to the ocean
maybe it will find you
april 2025 @ the fool's valley
a request
oh you want to hang out with me?
that’s great!
come and join me in a quiet moment by the trees
we can listen to the wind
feel the bird’s chirps tingle across our skin
maybe even
sit patiently with the the viscous shapes
of mysterious emotions
as they move through me and you.
but please,
(once again i’m close to begging)
can we take a break from naming it all?
it’s starting to feel obscene
this nasal extraction translation transaction
of my soul to yours
i’m tired of the jagged scalpels
and the microscopes
and the machines
we could just sit
and look out at it all:
the huge sky
the huge valley
eachother’s eyes
and love without knowing
april 2025
a plea
can you
(are you capable? willing?)
please
(it's not easy for me to ask)
sit next to me.
(a big exhale)
while i experience this human experience.
sit next to me
and do
nothing.
just
sit.
please.
i’m almost begging
april 2025
the fairies’ linger
have you heard the story of fairies,
drawn to the quiet places
that linger after a group of people
meet and part?
a few drift over to savour
the quivering hush
charged with life and joy,
laden with unfulfilled longing
they drink
the fading echoes of laughter,
soak
in love poured from smiling eyes.
some forgotten souls are left behind
the fairies sit between the vessels of the fecund heart
and in the creases of the eyes
drape on the lips
and nestle between the teeth
to listen to the whispers and tears
of a bittersweet heart
march 2025
surrendered presence
exstisential emptiness.
barren, dystopian rubble.
these are the hell realms,
we do not usually meet here.
but i invite you to stay,
make your self (un)comfortable
universes are created in these places.
if you’re lucky you may find
amongst pain / fear / emptiness / alone
a young hopeful seed:
the first stem and leaves
of your new life.
everything’s falling apart
and it’s a pleasure to have you here,
to grieve my crumbling crust
and savour my soft new skin.
september 2024
thoughts from someone at a gig alone
blue light coats their coats
and outlines their silhouettes
so that it’s difficult to make out
which of them are the trend setters
and which are the trend followers
and which are the trend breakers
and as the room bubbles with chatter
and froths with thinly disguised idle lives
they all glow with the same blue
which is fitting because they all look the same to me
and also fitting because blue is the colour of sadness
and it feels sad that they’re trapped
in a world of needing to be
and trying to be
and wanting to be
but also fitting because i’m sad
that no matter how hard i try
i never will be
and as i look down from the balcony,
my own face also coated in a blue i can’t perceive
i can’t figure out if they’re the ones trapped in ideology
or me
april 2021
london
little houses
stacked like boxes
pixels in the web
beneath our feet
grids intersect
connects the lines
above our heads
natures branches disobey
winding round in disarray
their only plan
is cosmic play
embracing god
and natures rays
sunlight leaking
cut by buildings
breaks a path
through listless air
and gently touches
angel leaves
“hello, again”
both gently breathe
august 2021
workaway
house stood naked, it’s roof ripped bare.
it had been a long month of work and repair.
but the helpers were leaving and soon it would seem,
house would finally be granted its dream:
to be carefully restored to its former glory,
with a brand new roof over the second story.
house had seen others go through the same,
with new stone walls and tiles all fixed with a crane.
but since it was standing house never had seen,
another house built by such a small team.
using only their hands, sometimes spades and shovels,
and wheelbarrows, ladders, ropes, and trovels,
the small team had toiled under the sun,
from morning until the day was done.
and house felt proud of the care that they took,
and promised forever to stand as strong as it could.
august 2018
portraitsbynoor 