Marc Carver

Marc Carver

By Marc Carver.


Dance your fingers over my chest

then drive them through the un-pubic hair

like a child pushing sand

leaning in with all their weight on those spread fingers

give me those hungry eyes devour me like you have never seen a man before

never turn away not even in sleep

lick my face and beard like a dog

vice me with your thighs

mount me like a horse

ride me like a buckaroo

and one last thing

be gentle with my little tender heart.






As I sleep, touch your fingertips along my fingers and arms

like a pianist for whom the music has stopped.

Or even the air between and slight

a gentle wave upon the quiet sea.

Rest your cupped hand upon my bent head

feel the pulses of love come from inside

like a lighthouse searching the sea

and feel how much I want to love you

you and the whole world.

Let me love you if only just for a bit.



I told her once

as she placed her hand upon me in bed.

Only in my head of course.


I couldn’t dare to speak the truth only to think it.


I was sure she knew anyway

and didn’t want to know.


After all

we were like two crabs

with our pincers stuck into each other

unable to prise ourselves apart.

Two bulls with our horns locked


A woman told me the other day

crabs mate for life,


no, maybe it was something else.



There is an angel at my front door

I don’t see him but I know he is there .

He is like a bouncer

he turns away all the undesirables.

Sits on a pink deckchair

and waits

He smokes a big cigar and has has a few slugs of whisky from the bottle he hides in the bushes only when nobody is looking.

He fans his wings out in a massive y when young ladies walk by.

He dances sometimes at night when everybody is asleep.

Other times he just stares up at the stars and wonders where his next job will be.

Hopefully it will be an easier job next time.

There is an angel at my front door.

I Don’t ………………………………………………….



I saw a woman with a blind dog

waiting to get on the tube.


As I passed her I winked at her.

She did not wink back but she saw me.


Maybe it was the dog who was blind

or maybe she hoped she was.



As we sat in Nandos

a woman got a drink from the machine

then she stopped and let out a big fart

but like a magician pulling handkerchiefs from a hat

it went on and on.

The man getting some drinks started to raise his eyebrows

then it came to an end and she walked off.

I burst out laughing but nobody knew why.



The beggar sits there everyday like Socrates at the city gate.

I want to shout at him

“Hey you this is not ancient Greece, why don’t you go home?”
I am home, he might say.
If that is right he has the biggest home in the world

and not only that

it is free.



How is it possible to stop existing to even think of it

and besides

who will turn the lights out when we leave

who will upset the neighbours

who will insult the wife.

No I must go on.



I felt like asking her

if she ever got tired

tired of trying to swim upstream all the time.

Why don’t you for once turn around

and let the river take you where it wants you to go for a change.



I pressed the button for the lift

it came down but the door didn’t open

so I started to bang on it like a front door

The doors opened and the people started to laugh as I walked in

“Did anybody hear knocking?” I asked they must of thought I was drunk at 1 in the afternoon.



There is a photo of me holding up a bear in front of the hermitage on the wall.

There are thirty of my paintings in this room alone.

I talk to dead people here in this room too.

I know there is a magic in life and you should not care about any of it.

I keep thinking as I lay here

I am a all or nothing kind of guy and I prefer nothing.

The time is coming as sure as the clouds when I will have to go out into the world again who knows what I will find.

Photo by Trent Foley.

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