love

Mendes 

He wants to hide with me 

in a tree-house of secrecy, 

cuddle into me 

and plant himself in my fertile soil.

He smells like wooden cologne 

and he holds me like he needs me:

up here we’re safe 

from shutters and flashes. 

It’s some kind of dream 

but I feel this like it’s real. 

Mendes, who are you? 

Why did you come? 

And why did we leave? 

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Amber

Back and forth
Pendulums swinging;
Back and forth
Birds singing;
Back and forth
Bells a-ringing;
Back and forth
Prophesies saying.

Silver coins kiss his mind:
Betrayal awaits, so unkind.
Toxic thoughts: an acid rain
Shower down and make their stain.

Was there amber in the sky?
Behind the tree where Judas hung?
An oil painting filled with crimson dye?
And late sorrows on his tongue?

Back and forth
Trust broken;
Back and forth
Tears awoken;
Back and forth
Tombs reopen;
Back and forth
Truth has spoken.

Another Love Poem Inspired by Loss and Bitterness

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.

An Answer To A Question Posed

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?
Will it?
Waiting… For a bus
that might not come.
Feet start tapping.
Sighs start escaping.
Patience starts flickering.
The wind blows,
papers fly.
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.
Bus U5.

Butterflies

Sweet creation
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
tear
those wings off!
Let me tear up.
Death begets Life;
Life begets Death.

Fly now, sweet thing, fly now!

my Parents

they raised me not to take
but to give where ever possible
my Parents
gave me everything i needed
i did not have to ask
my Parents
did not raise me with the back of their hands
but with the love in their hearts
my Parents
taught me to be helpful
and loyal to what I do
my Parents
were never inconsistent with their love
so neither am i with mine because
my Parents
taught me to have a mind and heart
before an ego or agenda
my Parents
will never leave me
even when they pass
my Parents
are the reason i will be a good parent
and my children will owe it to
my Parents
have made me into me
and i thank them
my Parents

pretty boy smoke

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
that
pretty boy smoke
in those pretty boy lungs
filling me up with pretty boy thoughts
your package came with
no warning
and if it did I don’t care
pretty boy love gonna
die
anyway pretty boy smoke
those
pretty boy smile
james dean
pretty boy style
pretty boy smoke
my pretty boy dream

Today & Tomorrow

For O.H.

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.

Do I love you?

Well?
The answer?
The answer:

Sitting on a creaky wooden bench
beside a small lake
motionless
eyes fixed in a trance
a tear
one
then another

A ceiling midnight blue
a bed beneath
spotlit by the silver moon
crinkled sheets
silent tremors
then sleep

Red rose water droplets
fragranced
thorns lots of thorns
green thorns
on this red rose
dropped

trampled
pushed aside

Love?
Yes
I know it
I know it well.