Smells of Time

In you comes -

in your sad seven year old

ironic tracksuit

and pair of box fresh.

In you comes -

looking for deals

on the board

behind the counter

which we knows

show best same day

as last time, last week, last month.

In you comes -

doing quick sums

and ordering a dozen shots

with your release money

which you quickly shares out

to punters who isn't interested.

In you comes -

barely missed

and completely blitzed

just another forgotten

madman.

In you comes -

a madman bent by routine;

a madman twisted by addiction;

a madman caught in the to and fro

of the outside which has turned its back

and good riddance.

In you comes - 

a madman smelling of time.

From City Trilogy ( Part 1 ), 2020

Steve Coel

c. Liar - Maisy Gordon, Collage: An 11.59 Publication

Rings on her fingers..

 And so it starts..

Two chases. At the same time. The novelty of poverty..

Words spoken out of turn. Causes offence..

Everyone's seeing signs that ain't really there..

First kiss of the day..

Protection. Hiding away is not an option..

Next to the fire escape door. Corner seat facing the entrance..

Threats; the bad kind..

A last major offence of the day. More to follow. Lots more..

Discarded

You's got the twist..

Secrets shared for information..

Truth shredded in a moment..

The silent bombshell suited beggar..

Notes

In your spring hat, tied with lost string, you search the free paper for clues for which day you now find yourself..Waiting. Waiting on the corner beat today for the next delivery in the rain..Disturbing the glances from local windows and trolley men..the clump of wet shoe against cracked kerbstone drunks..a high street roars with the anger of closure and debt..even the most fucked up has memories when called upon. Is called survival so it is..

Rings on her fingers..

First Draft - Steve Coel

Steve Coel

...and bells on her toes.

The fight..

looking the other way..

the arrests..

bad debt, bad deals..

the rumours..

the quiet word..

secret meetings..

a major disagreement..

bloody hands and tip-offs..

a one night stand..

burnt out cars..

random warnings..

scratches on working cars.. 

meetings in shopping mall car parks..

people go missing..

a public celebration.

Steve Coel

Discarded.

Stolen trainers and suede overcoat..

owed wraps and scissored finger tips..

sellotaped glass'..

Fake tan and orange lipstick..

kitchen knife strapped underneath skateboards..

grey trade tracksuits and knitted beanies.

Steve Coel

Notes.

So you's been shadow hunting? You fucker..Isn't nice. Know what I means?..It sure doesn't look as if it is going to end well..Peoples already got their mobiles out and others are instinctively putting their hands over stashs and stolen wallets..Stock taking bad debts. How come she always ends up doing all the groups dirty work!..From the stickered shop window the tidy looking young women shakes her weary head at the nasty row growing on the pavement outside..It was always about dodgy deals and money owed. Always..She was bored at seeing the same exhausted faces everytime too..The sound of blues up the street usually moved on most. But not all..CCTV(s) are clicked off, wiped or even removed.

...and bells on her toes.

First Draft - Steve Coel

The Other Day

Clear your mind, listen carefully and don't stop breathing.

Blue Slate..Waiting Patiently..Perfect Outing..King of Stars..Big Impact..Love Your Work..Straight Ash..Some Nightmare..Star Ascending..Born To Reason..Deadly Accurate..Hurricane Alert..Save A Forest..Universal Effect..Final Attack..First Voyage..Wild Water..Leave Me Alone..Some Can Sing..Midnight Glance.

Cliff Edge

Steve Coel

The Other Day

Clear you mind, listen carefully and don't stop breathing.

Simple rules..Bass Rock..Orient Sunset..Palm Beach..Brides Hill..You Say Nothing..Pure Genius..Court Blaze..Winged Blaze..Little Red Lion..Ring The Moon..SeaSearch..Hit The Rocks..Temple Man..Golden Town..Strong Team..Instant Replay..Hit The Beat..Secret Victory..Harbour Storm.

heb deitl

Steve Coel

The Other Day

Clear your mind, listen carefully and don't stop breathing.

Pure Bliss..Dock Road..Indian Harbour..Blue Monday..Big Picture..Control Me..Keep Rolling..Everything Now..Red River..Rootless Tree..Winged Isle..Lockdown Lady..Tide Times..Third Wind..Main Fact..Not So Sleepy..Beat the Storm..Afraid of Nothing..Pirate King..Famous Dynasty.

Ask the Lady

Steve Coel

The Other Day

Clear your mind, listen carefully and don't stop breathing.

Butcher King..Like the Sound..Get the Appeal..Western Starlet..Atlantic Storm..Real Dude..Free Dancer..Melody of Life..Global Art..Perfect Rose..Poetry and Art..Fun Light..Hungry Tiger..You Say Nothing..Union Gap..Like a Demon..Enduring Love..Stand Up and Fight..Walk to Freedom..The Big Story.

Steve Coel

The Mercy Path

Once you bypass

the last starched lightning tree

you enter a hillside world

of midnight stream

and border wire music.

Here, across shilling debris,

early shadow

and blisters of high mist,

nature composes movement

from iron and broken bone.

heb deitl

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Time has no future along forgotten paths. So be it. 

The Mercy Path can appear to be grim, tired, depressing. It is however, often beautiful.

No Paths

Here,

where young people

never return

and there

are no paths,

is the place

language goes to die,

and old people

still stop to watch

lost cars

drive pass.

heb deitl

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

There is an echo of hardship here and little to celebrate.

I have, it seems to me, become increasingly focused on what is being left behind. Forgotten.

The Proposal

Cut

into bitter grey stone

by masters of dead trades,

is your complete life story.

Brief like you,

words from broken parents

target the elders,

who created your passing.

heb deitl

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

So many things around me, in the local and wider community, seem broken, fractured...

Paper Towns

 

Paper Towns

All along the Mercy Road 

in six month empty paper towns,

elderly people in torn slippers

walk painfully down rusty nail footpaths.

Their cotton bags : half full

hold forgotten out of date tins of meat and dried fruit,

as they chat to each other about childhood, romance 

and warm hands.

Life is ending here

these places once called home

and memories will soon be forgotten

as nature wipes away all marks of living.

Mercy Road

Steve Coel

Mercy Road

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Half Stolen Buildings

 In regulation daytime armour

cracking with coarse whispers

and yesterdays broken promise,

the young girl pushes

her vape shadowed baby carrier

past steamed up shop windows.

Her world is the High Street

where each day

a bitter grey tide

shambles downhill

towards abandoned blue churches

and disappearing city light.

And it is here

her plastic shoes slap

into one off needles

that litter fishless gutters

and where even on dry days

the pavement is damp.

High Street

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Rub of Hand

There is a singular peace to be found in spaces where nature is busy removing memory.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

Because here, where rusty wire gravy becomes encrusted in cement and everything is always broken, the rub of hand and mark of machine have all gone and time is now taking another stumble into unseen swollen puddles of oil, urine and bottled music.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Shadows

In the nick of time power station reflection

you upgrade yet another dog end

and once again check the hidden shank 

in your Clink Hotel grey.

A long time is short here,

because outside nobody stands still. 

And routines are dictated by the coded message 

of engine, animal and whistle

and by shadows that appear 

and disappear on park borders.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Wired Woods

Day Time

The crump of ancient motor and distant shriek of bird split open the clipped hedges and gate of curved fields and cupped minds.

Here, where brown water fallen from rusty pipe clings to chipped rock, is where sweaty paths lead up into singing overgrown wired woods that close in on long forgotten cylindered reminders of hard labour and childhood.

Night Time

Stepping inside the broken windowed shopfront, you walk in silence, smoke in hand, through ankle cement, wooden glue, canal wire and rusty nail.

Walking Notes

   Steve Coel 

An 11.59 Publication   

Truth is...

Truth is...

you's defined by what you is...

by what you does...

by what you wears...

way you acts or reacts...

way; way before what you says...

so...

you's on the downside corner

smoking a newly picked clean

switchblade butt end 

left for you

in local park overnight...

this is not ever nice...

you two, we sees 

sticks too close

to each other,

is the general 

local give away,

didn't listen to 

instructions see,

did you

so...

no respect will be forthcoming...

you's trying too hard

to impress

the 

wrong people.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

The Adult Corner

Clipped metal

drunken cars clutter 

the broken citadel

at the head

of the illegal 

van garaged highway.

...the coffee blast

from the 

shuttered arch

is matched

with snatches

of whispered vaped chatter...

A stubble walk

across butchered

sleeping paths

..and loose change

on the blind side

of the adult corner ..

As Seen*

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

One Previous Owner*

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

Low Mileage*

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

* Print / Poster

The Mercy Path

Once you bypass

the last lightning tree

you enter a hillside world

of midnight stream

and border wire music.

Here, across shilling debris

and early shadow,

blisters of high mist

compose movement

from iron and broken bone.

The Mercy Path

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

Clog Street

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

The place I was born, is not the place I grew up in...

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Heavy Locks / Middle Lane Birds / No Paths

Quarrels echo

across the yard

toward a large

watery gate.

Grey

figures turn

hiding their hands

and run

as animals scatter

with the wind

that howls.

Down the hill

women gather

and men glare

from behind vast whiskers

in photographs

of heavy locks

that fasten decisions

from the outside.

Middle Lane Birds

Steve Coel

Along hidden

grassed up 

middle lane birds

swoop as insects

skirt and skit.

Time here

is held in place

by bells

distant with summer

brown and crinkled blue.

No Paths

Steve Coel

Here,

where young people

never return

and there are no paths,

is the place

language goes to die,

and old people

still stop to watch

lost cars

drive pass.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

Cheap Red Wine

Even on sunny mornings night time shadows move among the rusting steel underpass

..and the road above is ripped through with blind street eyes suffocating in splintered rain.

Oily shapes are squandered along the collapsed kerbside shop fronts..

as twisted paths sheepishly carve a route across knocked out grass and broken bales...

Here salt smashes into rock path and dripping cliff; here, where weather growls at footsteps, and distant noise is ancient and honest.

The cracked window wired doorway smells of cheap red wine and restless sleep as, stubs of burnt paper, shaped into tomorrows nightmare, mark the time where dreams begin and life ends.

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

All this seems too familiar.
Perhaps this isn't a good thing.
Who knows?

Walking Notes

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication