Black pain comes with the rain
Rain bouncing hard
Covering the yard with chronic drops
Unhappiness, an empty black hole
Threatening to collapse inside itself
Into nothingness.

Indefinite black pervades the air,
a darkened sun casts no shine
luminous black, like concrete surrounds you,
light is absent, Cimmerian shade is all.

Sonorous, sullied, sooty black cloaks all.
Shimmering, in the corner is a jet black,
obsidian hard sparkle, it's just a puddle.
A puddle made to sparkle in the street light.

A joyless sight in the darkness of a Stygian night.
Indistinct figures rush by, oblivious to the sparkling puddle.
Somber souls,mournfully groping homeward in the false electric light.
Home to a comfortless home, having failed to see the sparkle in the dark.

You were my rock
But time and feelings have eroded that rock into a pebble -
soon nothing but sand will remain.

I wish I could see the beauty in the world
one, that is clearly dreary, cynical and cold.
This old planet, home to millions of species
and billions of humans, hanging in orbit,
turning, turning, forever turning.
I want to see the romance of the stars,
without knowing they're dead cold and lifeless.
I want to hear music in the crashing waves,
without knowing the seas are rising, and species are dying.
I want to touch the earth and feel its life beating in sync with mine.
I want everyone to taste clean water, hot food and freedom.
But, I know that this show called life is full of spite,
there's no *** of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Just a huge arch of colours in the sky caused by water droplets.
There's no lollipop or band aid big enough for this broken earth's pain.
Lollipops and rainbows only equal tornadoes, and rain.

Tonight the moon stalks my steps,
it watches me with baleful stare
daring me to break my pact.

I know it wants a sacrifice
a body laid out on ice.
But I dare to return your stare.

These iron bars cast lines.
Lines I cannot cross.
Crimes enshrined in moonlight.

You stalk my mind, my soul, my dreams.
You keen to me, to be seen.
You beg more bad to be done, you stalk me when there's none.

My life, this pantomime

Unread
Unsaid
Undone
Unsung
Understand
Undo
Unlike
Unloved
Unafraid
Unattached
Unavailable
­Unceasing
Uncanny
Unclean
Unzipped
Unusual
Unprint­able

A heavy sigh escapes my lips
I need your seed to feed my need
Your taste still lingers on my lips
Your hands still feel moulded to my hips
Your absence has made the bed go cold.
Our heat has dissipated between the sheets
My greed for you makes me want
Your absence wants me to hasten your return.
I cannot call you, but I need you now.
Only you can help me regain feeling where
numbness resides, to feel the pressure of you
on me, in me. But you are not mine, I am not yours
We are both wanton ******.
I concede my place to second, no gold band upon
my hand, my conscience makes me short of breath
Indulgent, wanton, sumptuous gratification,
if thats all we are together, then fine, I accept.
But, I need you now, and always.

A tie that binds,a sacred bond undone by lust.

Please handle with care the man sat in the chair
he's not a millionaire, but priceless to me.
He's not a Saint, he's made mistakes,
he's as stubborn as they come, cantankerous and moody,
but while he's there in your care, please bear in mind,
though, grouchy, argumentative and he's driving you to despair,
he's mine and my siblings dad, he's a husband, a grandfather, brother,
uncle, nephew and once himself a son.
Yes, he's been bad.
Yes, we've made him sad.
Yes, he's a flirt (that's for Mam).
Yes, we're aware of his faults, that makes him human, but, he's ours, and we'd like to be selfish and keep the moody, grouchy,
cantankerous old man a little longer.
So, please just handle him with care.

It was unfair that I loved you first
It was unfair that you and I were cursed
It was unfair that with no one around we were free
Just you and me, joking, talking, knowing

Peers are just the first form of abuse we suffer in this world
Words hurled, lips curled,
We drifted apart, whispers became louder than shouts
I found out that you'd kissed her

I didn't cry, you weren't mine to cry over
I didn't show emotion, that takes time
I didn't pursue anyone else, I insulated myself
I didn't experience anything but loneliness and bitterness

Facebook show me those peers
Reveal their lives, their pain, their happiness
She's on the social network, she runs, drinks wine
Is married, is a mum

I look for you on there, you're not
I am, but if we find each other again
Life has had the last laugh
We are both married. Unfair.

From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There's nothing worth the wear of winning, But laughter and the love of friends.
Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953), British author. "Dedicatory Ode," Verses (1910).

Dear Parents

Thank you for deciding after two years of marriage to have a child, me.
Sorry I wasn't the boy that so many of my family desired, sorry I was late, sorry that you missed the "Rumble in the Jungle", if it's any consolation I know who won.
How I came to be is quite beyond me. Father's family disliked mothers and vice versa. Dad a steelworker, Mam a trainee chef, dad flipped a coin with a mate, my mother was the stake.
Four years later sister came along, then another four years the son, that so many yearned for made an appearance.
I saved my sister's life from my grandparent's dog, lost an ear in that battle, a bit like Van Gogh. Plastic surgery at seven, still hate Cocker Spaniels to this day. I tell everyone I saved her from a rabid Doberman (I know parents, there's no Rabies in Great Britain) what did I get for my trouble? A stuffed white cat and a sister that I made sit in a cow pat.
Thank you parents for sending me to a school that made other kids suspicious of me. A welsh medium school, might as well have been Hogwarts, but they taught me well, (I can swear in five languages) and read and spell.
Dad taught me how to head ****, mam you taught me how to make cake.
My sister taught me how to share, my brother taught me how really not to care. Live each day as if it may be your last, I told my brother that often.
Dad, one of 13 kids, mam one of 3, like me. Dad, I hate your sisters that are alive they remind me of the Moirai, or the three witches from Macbeth, I've tried to like them but I'm terrible at lying, and to be honest they are in their late 70's so they must be close to dying.
Mam, your sister is a lesbian, I think her army days gave that away. Your brother like mine a source of consternation a Navy man that never went to sea????
Now, my grandparents are all dead. Apparently, I have inherited my father's mother's temper. She disappeared for 3 days when she thought she'd killed my grandad!
I'm married now, no rug rats thank God, I'm aunty material, selfish and wicked.
Now, this sounds I know a little quaint and odd, but I know we've had our share of bad luck, but, 42 years wed, still in the family home, surrounded by trees, neighbours we've known for years and people we'd like to poison. But,we've laughed so hard mam you have a hernia, dad you are the male equivalent of a ****, you'll be flirting in the OAP home **** yes, sorry parents as one of your three I get to pick the residential home! And, as they say,that is a good life.
Jo **
P.s I didn't mention our family mental illnesses, early 20th century communism, possible adultery, coveting the neighbours Ford Capri, or pet cemetery in the garden. I'll wait til all are dead then spill about the good secrets.

Woman born with a
Hope filled soul
Openly emotional and

Individually complex

Atypically childless yet,
M**other to man.

In soot black darkness we lie
between thin, worn out sheets.
A cheap hotel, false names,
cash only, no trace.
Our bodies became a canvas
to sin. We pivoted on an axis of
need, our madness and sadness
lost amongst the tobacco stained walls.
From chin to shin we've tasted,
tainted lust, clung mewling to each other
anchored in this, coal black, soot black,
ebony black night.
Skin to sin we wait for daylight, its
redemption, and chagrin and sadness
to leave. Anxious and unbalanced
we wait for planets to align, so that we
may await the day that this darkness
fades to grey

Like fairy dust caught in dappled sunlight they dance.
Swirling gracefully like a ballerina pirouetting
on a child's music box.
Graceful specks of fine dirt engrossed in cloaking
surfaces smooth and coarse.
Like petticoats caught in a summer breeze
rippling, and dipping, causing a sneeze.
Dust motes like a kilt swirling,
whirling in the kaleidoscope of daylight,
engross you in devoting a poem to their dance.
Those molecules, atoms of time passed.

Bacon sizzles
*** fizzles out
Bacon comforts
Relationships cause discomfort.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My love is a gun
And the bullet’s for you

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest of them all?

Is it me or is it you?
But you are me and I am you.

"Magic mirror in my hand, who is the fairest in the land?"

It's not you, you're too bland, like the bear's porridge,
lumpy, thick and grey. I think you were unplanned.

"Mirror mirror please understand, I need to know who's fairest in the land"

Oh, please take your pleas and understand this, if I were flesh and bone I'd give you a miss.

"Mirror mirror tell me true, do I look good to you?"

I'll tell you this you needy miss, I have no potion to cure your ails,
and wails and needy questions,
your face and body cannot be endured,
(not even by the big bad wolf, and he likes wrinkly grannies)
If I were you I wouldn't hesitate to put my head into the oven
I'll get Gretel to shove you in.
"You ungodly witch to be burned to ashes"

Mirror mirror on the wall why are you cracked?

In this palace of madness reside creatures of fury,
of time, of earth, of light and dark.
A callous canvass upon which to paint such
murderous intent, spite and gleeful joy.
Malice hacks at the door.
Black blankets the beckoning mountain.
Maggots putrefy this palace of decay.
Trackless steps lead to the mountain,
worn away by thousands of pounding feet
over thousands of years.
All stepping into the casket of night.
All stepping into chasms of phantoms.
Enchantments abound this un-hallowed ground
memories, anxious to stay locked behind the door.
Madness clawing, devouring sanity step by step.
Turn back, for insanity inhabits this palace, and,
Here be dragons.

The vampire is at the door
The wolf is in the yard
The ghost is in the house
The lunatic is baying at the moon
The siren is off the shore
The serpent is in the grass
The pain is in the heart
The killer is in you.

How am I still holding on?
Wasting my time
When I know you've gone

I still drift back to younger days
I wasted my time over you
I tried to understand, I failed

You stayed with me up until I realised,
you were gone.
You were never mine.

I saw you the other day
I was sat in a café people watching
I saw you, I watched you.

I ached for you, for me, for the past
For regrets, missed opportunities, failed declarations
Realisation that together we were friends, almost more.

In a crowd we were separate beings
Societal dictats stood in place, never to be questioned.
I watched you in the crowd from the café

Watched you looking my way
Steam from my latte bringing a haze to my eyes
Oh how many nights I cried for you.

Wanting you, needing you,
hurting inside for you, denying others "just in case"
You denied me then I deny you now.

Stay in the locked box deep in my soul
Memories in a woman's heart
can never be stolen or forgotten.

I left the café with an ache
Turned the corner, felt your stare
Then, saw my husband standing there.

To him I moved my wheelchair forward
To him I kissed my ache away
To him I will always stay

I turned for a final glance
Looked at you standing in the drizzle
You stared not at me, but the chair.

Realisation shone on your face
Confusion clouded those eyes
I am her, but not now.

Your height, your hair, your brown eyed stare
You're all that I remembered and more.
21 years have spun away, as did I that day.

Intricately laid by a master mason centuries ago,
the cobbles have become shiny and worn through use.
If we listen closely at the  echoes contained within,
what would we hear? The din of old, the clatter of hooves,
the patois of tradesmen, the fisher wives bellows?
Or, just life as it was, moving along at a pace we today find slow?
The sun beats down on the Spanish stone, firing them hot and
languid, pace has slowed, need has slowed, greed has slowed.

Dusty cobbles leading to cool houses, siesta has called and all obey.
The midday sun beats down, only tourists looking for quaint shops
remain, decrying the heat, ready to swoon.
Sweat drips onto the dusty cobbles, and is soon boiled away.
Blood has dripped on these cobbles, human and beasts.
Only to be scrubbed by the crow black crones that sit and watch the day.
Afternoon lull, boats bobbing slowly up and down,
babies rocked by a quiet lullaby.

The sun lowers bathing the cobbles in a pink, orange glow,
quiet now, Spain is sleeping, forgetting her past, the Moors are long gone,
the Armada been and gone, bullfights are frowned upon,
their Kings and Dictator laid to rest, only foolish tourists throng the
dusty cobbles, oblivious to their history, looking for that awful gift.
Spain's pain is echoed in her cobbles, few hear it, but know this,
if you listen you'll hear the heat, the pain, civil war,
pride and flamenco feet*.

I float on gin soaked nightmares
Yoked to the liquor like a babe to a bottle
Coaxed to sleep slowly, dosed on 70% proof
and with it the night's terror starts.

Gin addled, lying in sweat soaked sheets
Memories raise their heads above the parapet
These memories coaxed from their corners
Coerced by addiction.

My addiction I saw as a benediction
A positive to all the negative.
But my submission was not conviction,
it was hell and condemnation.

Now, my nightmares torment me,
like purgatory, no rest for the wicked,
the fallen, the flotsam and detritus of life.
Stricken I can only question....

What's it like to drift off quietly?
Not to wake with a scream trapped in your throat?
To count sheep instead of the faces of the long dead?
To slumber in peace, cloaked in love?

If you can answer these questions,
please let me know.
Pop a note in bottle and give it a throw.
If it washes up I'll let you know.

Slide to unlock you command
I do so with a sleight of hand
Enter passcode you demand
I press four digits, and up pops your brand.

I check my apps, play some games,
Update, mail, and Facebook old names
Shuffle my music, delete and reply
All the while asking myself "why?"

I'm a consumer gone mad.
The world turns and I'm sad
People die every day, in such horrific ways,
Yet I slide and unlock, and do as commanded.

After all I'm a human re-branded.

Weave a spell with your words,
entwine the words with my heart strings.
Knot them tight so that they never loosen.
Hold fast your words upon my heart,
impart your loving syllables into the chambers of my heart and soul.
Gracefully guide the silver thread through my core.
My heart gracefully guides your hands as you work to bring what is truly your spirit to life, in me.
Teach me that love holds true, braid yourself to me.
Scarred though it may be, my heart belongs to thee

Glacier like, she moves slowly
Heavily made up, doll like, Maiko
Moving toward her rite of passage in a
highly colorful kimono with extravagant obi.

Her bright face and silks are an unspoken code
Her parasol offers limited protection from the sun
and less to what's to come.
Although trained, this transaction is not of love.

Its been written in the stars that I will be
Starstruck by your personality, and your
clenched fists
Supergiant of manliness that strikes soft
flesh, sparks bruises, causes pain.
Leave, people say, but I can't, love is a giant supernova.
Sparse is the love for me, infinite is the universe.
The stars I see now are not of distant galaxies though,
but rather the start of a concussion

My body temperature rises like the moon.
Odd that the sun is the symbol of heat,
yet, most heat is felt at night.
Subtlest of sighs and I am undone.
Buttressed and encompassed by you.
I want to bite, nibble, peck at your neck
Like an artist with granite I want to carve into you
I crave you, I want to market our practiced need.
Subtle yet lulled, our lust will be boundless.
Founded on our need to keep our word.
We together are a force, a natural force.
Unreserved, unobserved, unconcerned
I allow you to flood into me.
Hazily, I am drawn to the figure on the floor,
we swore no more, but the thrill of the slow ****,
allows us to be enthralled, exhilarated, liberated.
The moon wanes, the body grows cold, we soar
as we clean the gore.
We swear 'nevermore' but are we just Poe's distraught
lovers, falling into madness?
The madness of the bloodlust, ******.

Softly swishing on the air, a breeze gets caught in my room.
The gentle air does little to cool the fire ablaze on the bed.
Shallow breathing fans my ear, as I lie across your chest.
The rise and fall of your torso remind me of the rise and
fall of us during, this, our final night alone.
Summer is turning to autumn, soon the leaves will brown
and fall. How quickly a summer's night breeze can cool ardour.
Passion, heat, intensity all have seen the inside of this room.
What happens when they leave? Do they leave on the last breeze?
Tracing your body with my nails, I feel you stir, yet you murmur
her name. You moan and arc your back, a droplet of sweat rolls
down your neck, catches in the hollow, glistening, listening.
I lift my head and dart my tongue to your neck, lick the sweet sweat,
and know that when the weather breaks, and the breeze turns clouds darker with rain, you and I will be here again

I stare at the kettle, I've forgotten to flip the switch on
A teabag lies in the bottom of a cup
I look at the clock and wonder where the time has gone.
I'm in the kitchen, there's something wrong.
I see the sink, the fridge, the oven too
Stop, please, let me think.
I turn back to the cup and it hits me,
There should be two.