You love it when I write you a sweet love poem,
but rage scarlet when I smash you like limestone
with my shiny words and these strange metaphors…
We fell like Icarus, hubris was the cause.
I saw your lusty list of your past lovers,
I was but one under your starched white covers.
Staring at the city with you – I felt whole.
Now I’m left with pepperminted loneliness and paracetamol.
How does it feel to be free from my millstone?
Read between these coloured-in rhymes: there lies my tone.
Now you’ll see me in the shadows of the full moon,
surreptitiously shining on your bed: we died too soon.
As he sits down at the bus stop
and glances at his watch –
a bus pulls up.
He looks: B4.
It’s familiar, he’s seen it before
but he knows it’s not his.
When will the bus come?
Waiting… For a bus
that might not come.
Feet start tapping.
Sighs start escaping.
Patience starts flickering.
The wind blows,
A napkin, stained, flitters to his feet
like a butterfly learning to fly.
“Love needs faith”
written in black ink across one corner.
A bus suddenly pulls up.
The doors open.
A hand reaches out.
His smile reaches in.
He takes his hand.
flittering above the river &
between the overgrowth,
floating, naïve to these contemplations.
Explosions of noise on those fragile wings;
the air tastes of dark blue misery.
Yet you’re so peaceful
in the Garden of Eden
before the Fall of Man…
Before Man became man.
Come here, sweet beauty!
Stay a while.
No, don’t try escape my clasp!
Here, let me
those wings off!
Let me tear up.
Death begets Life;
Life begets Death.
My nourishing Spirit!
O, my eternal Freedom!
Forsake me not;
Forgive me evermore!
My words are only half-filled
While your form is Divine.
Leave me not, wise Bard:
Keep touching my conflicted soul
With Your inspired Wisdom!
they raised me not to take
but to give where ever possible
gave me everything i needed
i did not have to ask
did not raise me with the back of their hands
but with the love in their hearts
taught me to be helpful
and loyal to what I do
were never inconsistent with their love
so neither am i with mine because
taught me to have a mind and heart
before an ego or agenda
will never leave me
even when they pass
are the reason i will be a good parent
and my children will owe it to
have made me into me
and i thank them
saw you standing there
in your veil of smoke
a little wisp around your head
like some kinda devilish halo-noose
blowing fumes from those lips
all ruby and full like the moon
pretty boy smoke
pretty boy smoke
in those pretty boy lungs
filling me up with pretty boy thoughts
your package came with
and if it did I don’t care
pretty boy love gonna
anyway pretty boy smoke
pretty boy smile
pretty boy style
pretty boy smoke
my pretty boy dream
Glasses smashing against this tall wall:
sharp shrapnel pieces
pierce the air, make bleed.
Screams echo forever in this dark hall,
even the pale moonlight refuses to shine through
and trees outside collapse without cause.
Burning cheeks from assaulting eyes;
stabbing knives twisting inside.
No sleep, only interrupted silence.
Silence interrupted no longer.
Waves lap gently caressing fine sands;
crystal water cooling and calm.
Sunlight swirling and dancing delightfully
onto glistening droplets of water on skin –
tanned and silky from loving hands.
Noah’s white dove, olive leaf in beak, glides
all around and everything is at peace:
an upward curve on your face, a delightful crease.