Wine bleeds from wooden flesh
From skin stretched over whittled bones
And with every gasping breath:
A cloying stench let clearly known.
Lenses hide me from a distant world
While coarse eyes mould a wonderland.
Everything drowning in yellow gold,
Stagnating under blue canopy grand.
Melting into the beneath earth
Muscle torn asunder.
A forced laugh of fabric mirth
A smile, weak of weakness under.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 6:09 PM UTC
tender barbs caress
pallid skin
soft black thorns
whisper
and feel
flesh so thin
lightly they tug
and
gently they pull
tasting to pierce
let crimson fall
pure
brilliant
white
only in tragedy
can end
this night
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
1. To the man who never turns off his window fairy lights.
His stars were magic,
Face of immortality -
Our light dies with us.
2. To the man who never closes his curtains
Hollow and broken
A wailing demand for love
Heard by few but some.
3. To the housewife in 104b
The bruises will heal
Foetal on the kitchen floor,
Grasping tight the hilt.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:07 PM UTC
All alone
In the middle of the floor
Lies a leather brogue -
Nothing less, nothing more.
It's toes are battered,
Ripped and weary -
In fact the whole scene
Is a little dreary.
The deceased shoe's lodger
Along with his feet,
In sprawled horror,
Lies broken and beat.
A once great mind
Here lays at rest.
There's no doubt about it,
It was one of the best.
And just one thing
From his hand, I pry -
An empty bottle,
****** bone dry.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
He lures you down a misty route
Beckoning with a skeletal finger.
Wearing a long trenchcoat,
He tells you not to linger.
Obediently you step forth
Following in the shadow.
Shamelessly – of course
As the path begins to narrow.
You squeeze on through
Trying not to lose sight
As he fades from view;
Away, into the night.
Now you’re all alone,
In the darkness breeze.
The silence drones,
The walls begin to squeeze.
You struggle and strain,
As they compress your chest
But all in vain,
You did your best.
The silence is drowned
By a searing cackle.
He has you now-
Broken and shackled
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:37 AM UTC
You know we flew once?
Standing, watching the seafront
And we lept together
Caught on the wind a feather.
We spread our arms, flapped and whistled,
(I still remember how my neck hair bristled.)
We swooped close to the water to catch the sea spray,
While drenching your yellow matted hay.
And then back up again, into the gale,
To be thrown in whichever direction it did prevail.
The gulls cackled and laughed as we floundered in the air,
The secret to flying is not one they’ll share.
Your acidic eyes told me the secret was a lie,
All the gulls told you was to live and not die.
But when I landed you were no more,
And I was left standing on the shore.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
the US economy suffers a fall in
Consumer Confidence
and she crashes back to earth
with a faceful of sand
the trumpets quiver silence
the golden veil burns
to nothing
around her
she stands
naked
alone
in a dark room
a single spotlight
brutal white
merciless luminescence
shouts imperfections
at any to listen.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
I fell from a slick white haven,
From paradise to this.
I landed somewhere incomprehensible,
alien to that bliss.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:35 AM UTC
The men and the dogs
Statue staring in the street
Rabid and afraid
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
You all know how I died,
And I do not.
But I hope it was a fantastic
Spectacle of how to make your heart stop.
I hope I died flying backwards
in a crimson ball of flame,
Or fighting off a tiger
that never could to tame.
I hope I died with a smile on my face,
Beaming from ear to ear,
Or laughing so that everyone around
Could hear.
I hope I died doing something
To which my mother always said “No”,
“But if we don’t try,
How will we ever know?”
I hope I died not waiting for
Air to no longer suffice,
Lying in a bed with a tube
In every orifice.
I hope you did not let me age
And forget you,
Because I would be
Filled with regret too.
So I hope it was a spectacular expression
Of more than just existing,
I hope they oohed and aahed while
I flew through the air a-twisting.
And I can see some of you are grieving,
yet I know not why,
Because this is a celebration of
Life having been lived
And not a sombre lullaby.
So fill your glasses,
Cups and jugs,
And let’s see a smile on those
Ugly old mugs.
There’s a lesson too be learned,
and that is clear to see.
So without much further ado,
“Here’s to me!”
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC