U.V.Ray

 

u.v.ray left school at the age of 15 without any qualifications and proceeded to spend the next twenty years drifting around back street bars writing his poetry on beer mats and cigarette packets. His work has appeared in both print and online in magazines and anthologies around the world and his second collection, Road Trip & Other Poems, is due out in 2010. He remains the un-darling of the British literary scene.

 

u.v.ray's website: www.uvray.moonfruit.com

 

 

Brooklyn Bridge

 

There are no answers

where the eye dilated

catches the stars

in the numbness

of retrospection.

And death’s hand

clutches the still heart

to its chest;

the spilled blood

like a million roses

cast adrift

on East River swell.

And in the long shadow

of Manhattan,

the coming sound

of the dead man’s bell. 

 

---

 

 

Dancer In The Stars & Stripes Bikini

 

older than the other girls

a veteran of the

stage

 

she is beautiful

 

with her bottle blonde hair

and cellulite

 

spreading her legs

in the violet glare

of neon spot lights

 

been working the joint for years

 

but no one will ever know

the depth of

her real feelings

 

or taste the bitter

sweet beauty of her tears

 

night after night

writhing in cigarette smoke

and ten dollar stares

 

she makes me think

of all those lonely

seas

 

a garland of roses

 

reflected in eyes the colour

of autumn leaves

 

and how her skin

looks so blue

 

glistening

 

like an iceberg

in moonlight sonata 

 

---

 

 

Gasoline

 

careering through the rain

 

I'm down

to skin and bone

 

the blood rush

 

searing through my veins

like a razor

blade

 

with senses split

 

gasoline in the

hot wire

 

just one more fix

 

& I'll be tearing up the

tyres

 

city to city

 

death the penultimate

high

 

street lights strip joints

& amphetamines

 

on the road

 

motels and endless skies 

 

---

 

 

Angelina

 

eyes hollow

 

as two smoke ring halos

 

exhaled from the muzzle

of a double barrel

shot gun

 

burned out

 

on a diet of cigarettes

and crack with

drawal

 

amber street lights

 

torn stockings

 

lipstick & spiked

stilettos

 

touching the crucifix

around her neck

she says

 

the only way out

is stone cold

dead

 

or by divine miracle

 

but she knows

that isnt going to happen

 

because god

just doesnt pay the rent

that way

 

---

 

 

Tyne Cot War Cemetery

 

I thought I saw a beautiful red rose

 

blowing in the wind

in a corner of the field

 

but it was just a blood stained rag

caught on a barbed wire fence