I have a confession
It's called an obsession.
A preoccupation
With my aggression
I feel it building
Like Lego for adults
Doctors say it's part
and parcel of my
Depression.
If that's the case then
All serial killers
and not nice people
are just depressed.
Not obsessed with hurt
or pain or emotion.
Just a little down
Take a pill
Chill.
Don't ****
Don't obsess
You're just depressed.

Spirit of the age.
Which age?
Indifferent?
Explicit?
Aesthetics?

Art
Beauty
Film
Music
Li­terature

Modern
Classical
Ancient
Medieval
Contemporary

Greek
Chinese
Arabic
African
Indian

Limelight
Sun­light
Moonlight
Twilight
Candlelight

My spirit straddles two ages
20th and 21st
Can it be that I've surpassed my
own time?
Alas,

Goodnight from this plebiscite
Sleep tight
Don't let the zeitgeist bite.

Stilletto slips silently
Finds its destination
Its work done.
Undone

Frightened by the thought of you
I try to forget you.
I try to recall imperfections
of you,
In order to make you weak
to me.
Weak in my heart
Weak in my soul
Weak in my love
All it does is strengthen
your hold.
I am the weak minded soul
blinded by the poetry
in my heart.

Time to strengthen my resolve,
but not to make it disappear
I need the song it brings.
I need the comfort of words
I need the longing of literature
not of you.
Enlightened by this revelation
I realise that I was the
romantique.
Living via the classique's
Modern life is too harsh
to bear a Heathcliff
on a marsh.

We dined in quietude
knowing that the meal
was our last repast.
Together, we'd had fun
now the game changed,
your wife was pregnant
with a son.
I ordered more wine
I didn't whine that
you chose her over me.
Bawling and weeping
Is not my style.
Should have known
from the beginning
you were a lying swine,
three months before I knew,
that you weren't mine,
married, you'd confessed.
In the process of divorce
you'd said.
Believed you, I did.
Affairs like prayers sometimes
go unanswered.
You and I this supper time
will not end the night
ascending the stair for our affair.

Biologically linked
His debut was celebrated
A son, at last
Gynaecologically whole
Daughters, well, ok
but a son, now that is
ideal.

I can recommend two things in life
Friends and shoes.
A friend will defend 'till the end
Shoes will let you cruise the streets
A friend will try to mend you when broken
Shoes will soften, and mould to you
Like a lover in bed.
Friends pick you up when you are down
Shoes become missiles ready to be thrown.
But, as a woman I can say the play
from shoes is better than friendly play,
Shoes attract, friends detract.
Both are needed
Just not on the same day!

Confused, amused by this life
I stand on the bridge and
watch the turbid water below,
churning, flowing,moving,
the haziness of the liquid calls,
jump, free fall, quit.
Let go of the railing,
stretch out and join
the flowing liquid.
Light dapples the water
the light is blue
the water grey
Blue light is coming from
the police car,
it's lights make the water
more, not less appealing,
I lean forward, hear the shouts
I know there'll be silence below.
I release my grip.
Into the deep murky water I go

Her body was her success
but, her intellect was just a guest
that came along to the photo shoot.
Undressed, she was perfect,
alone she was fragile,
a child looking for love.

Her effects were legendary.
Many have tried to capture her
essence, they've failed
Marilyn Monroe
a fake name for a real
person.

Norma Jean Baker
Brunette to Blonde
As her two personas intersect
it's hard not to feel regret
for the child with a smile
so wide, it reflected the sun.

We , the adoring fans made her public property
forgetting her individuality, sensitivity and
vulnerability.
We used and abused the sunshine
she brought, she lived a lie
We that supposedly were in love with her
killed her beauty, without and within.

Nembutal, overdose, suicide,cover up
believe what you want.
What's true is she had a
luminous quality, wistfulness, radiance, and yearning
that set her apart.

And, in her own words
"Give a girl the right shoes,
and she can conquer the world"
That she did, and still does.

Pretty in pink, I'd like to think I can write
you a ballad but all that comes is a pallid
canvas of colourless words.
I fail to bring the vibrancy in my heart
to life, descriptions of you, of your love.
Damaged, though I am, I know that you
and you alone love me.
In a way that no sibling, parent or other knows.
Yet,
acid drips from my lips aimed like an arrow
to your heart.
Fastened together by something more than
Love, why do we fight with such spite?
What sorcery binds us?
I love you, but that makes you mine
to ****.
Men may **** the things they do not love
but we women **** what we love the most.

We said our vows
in front of a crowd
of well wishers
and family.

We moved in
as husband and wife
and started a life
not in sin but love.

How quickly love turns sour
our wedding rings
they came to symbolise
flings and lies.

How quickly love dies.
The ring now just a band
of cold gold encompassing
a finger filled with hate.

A poison ring,
no longer are we yin to yang.
Yet the upswing to this decline
is that I watch the crystalline water
on a recliner, paid for by your life
Insurance.

Let me begin by saying
"I was a twin"
That's right was
I ate it in the womb.
Now it's not all doom and gloom
I had other siblings
But, one could say, that,
before birth I was a
murderer.
The evil twin.
Or, just peckish
Lecter had nothing on me!
Now, yes I did consume
my twin, but in my defence
(And my chagrin)
One of us had to win.
Imagine looking at a
being, your doppelgänger
from the room of the womb.
There wasn't enough elbow room
(or legroom)
for that matter
So, to my mater I apologise
that I cannibalised
myself.

Feelings are full of meanings.
Abandonment and pleadings.
Heart beatings.

Feelings are just sweepings
swept up off the floor from
pain frozen beings.

Feelings release the pain.
Which overreaches and falls.
Pain palls.

A dark cloud of dust
emerges to cloak
the feelings to black.

Feelings like seedlings
grow in the sun. Eclipsed,
the sun and feelings turn dark.

Bright, feelings ultimately
turn to gloom
Happiness vs sadness

Who wins?

Snowflakes slowly fall and
disappear into the ground.
Frozen flakes disappearing
into the snow,
returning to the drift.

Opaque light glimmers on the surface
I wonder if my face has remained
the same, fake smiles all around
plastic happiness built on
plastic dreams.

I moulded myself to being the wife
a puppet on a string, a thing to own
Vile vinyl, fake female
toxic, neurotic, inorganic
credit card lifestyle.

The snowflake has reminded me
of a purer time, a kinder, softer time
Snowflakes are unique
I am unique not
Plastique

"It was only a kiss" you'd said
to me, that ended
our wedded bliss.

I caught you and her
of all places, in
my kitchen.

New year's party for the neighbours
right next to the drainer
You, and her from number five.

Warned about her the day we arrived.
Gossip I thought
Jealousy I thought

Vicious viperous women
being vindictive
I thought.

Shows you what thought does
Did you like number five's thighs?
Her sighs?

Did you even remember your wife?
Whilst being depraved, full of vice
lies and cries of lust ?

I expect not, your head
was still full of her lips
Or is it her lips that are still full?

Relationships are give and take
You took too much.
I hate goodbyes.

You've been Blythe about
Your demise with
Number five, and her thighs.

So, to cut to the chase
We cannot revive nor
survive. Your kiss can consider me the ex.

Oh, and by the way
let's just say that the
slice I made today will make no 5
Stay permanently away.

My lover is a vampire.
Before you laugh I
need you to discover
how he became, firstly
a vampire
and secondly my lover.

He discovered me, alone
walking at sundown
waiting for the day's end.
Truth be told, my end.
I'd planned on lying down
in the long grass of the
sand dunes
fall asleep under the stars
and awake no more.

Summer was at its end
Cool breezes had returned
so when I felt the coldness
at my neck I assumed
It was summer's end
whispering goodbye.
Instead the words I heard were
"You don't want to die"

I thought a sculpture was talking
so cold, so perfect, so smooth
his appearance.
He whispered again
"You don't want to die"
How did he know?
Was this an hallucination?

"Let me show you why you don't want to die"
Immobile I lay as still as a corpse
he touched my head and
images raced through,
of him kissing me, loving me,
through the decades past,
my family, then them dying too.
I felt my tears on my face
thinking of my selfish gene
that suggested me dying.

With a gentle caress he kissed my face
I smelt decay, I recovered and saw
What had saved me from the incoming tide.
A structure of a man
so perfect, so beautiful
I discovered that I wanted him
more than death.

A hunger welled in him and I
He held me, told our story
then goodbye.
My summer lover had to go
the sun had returned
"Take me with you"
Was my plea
But along with the oncoming sea
he swelled my heart
then let it go.
Just like times before.

He kissed me deeply
and promised to return,
sulphur clung to his clothes
invaded my nose and as surely
as I walked to the shore,
He was gone
He was there no more.

If we were all the same
Would we be happy?

If we were all one
Would we come undone?

If we all roamed
Would we find home?

If we all atoned
Would we be clean?

If we all loathed
Would we corrode?

If we all moaned
Would we be heard?

If we all strolled
Would we ever get anywhere?

If we all condoned
Would we ever make allowances?

If we all loved
Would we ever feel hate?

If we all provoked
Would we all react?

If we all unfold
Would ***** laundry air?

If we all just decomposed
We would just become ghosts.

I went into this with
eyes and thighs
wide open.

I cannot sanitise my position
My legs astride
Your waist.

I cannot analyse our predicament
I sympathise truly
With her.

But, this affair started together
both to blame
no shame.

I'm beautified by your attention
Call it love
I'm mystified.

I only know I cannot
I will not
Give up.

I'm sorry that you're married
as am I
that's life.

Or is it oversimplified lust?
just never leave
I'd vaporise.

But, before we go back
to our partners
glide inside.

Again.

Unearthly longing puts a spell on me
prophetic and poetic words empty my mouth
you've done it again,
dashed and crashed my need of you in one move.
A marriage invitation. Ours?
No, yours and hers.
You'd promised that I was yours
you were mine.
But, you found deeper water to play in,
cream vellum invite
inviting me, the one that you'd ****** for fun
to be an honoured guest at your celebration.
My celebration also, alas for you.
Such beautiful flowers coo the guests
I smile, I've seen these flowers before
at my door.
They'd announce your intentions
frenetic, athletic, kinetic ***
was to ensue.
Hushed ahhhhhs as the bride to be
Stepped out
bridal colours of a ******
shame about the groom.
Numb I watch her walk to you
I know every inch of you
I know that secret quirky part of you
that perversely makes you gentler.
Will she find it?
She's at the altar, I start to feel frenetic
this is wrong I should be her
you caressed me first
you kissed me first
You were my first.
Wait, the vicar is asking for objections
You both turn, look out at us the congregation
I lock eyes with you
I look perky, your mask falters
It's all over bar the screams
You see dear I do object to being an object
who looks for a concealed pocket sized Beretta
at a wedding?
That red stain will be ****** to get out.