With her cowpoke
She went riding out with him
One dark and windy day.

The desert had forsaken their love and left their hearts astray.

As sharp as a cactus' spine, her lips did pine for days.

They sat around their victim's pyres tasting burnt bone, curdled blood.

She saw the mess of her cowpoke, blonde and brown beauties layed in the mud.

She asked why must these girls die
If their looks were truly good
He mumbled that his heart had been broken by the stormy flood.

So they swept across Arizona with it's bright windy haze
And withdrew their revolvers with eyes that met in gaze

They downed a couple of beers in the dusky saloon
Until right in front of them was the old rusty moon

Tonight she will riding out in the ****** lands
Where with her man she'll be soaking her rigid hands

In wine that oozes from the corpses in the sands
And in the sheets ridin' she'll take command.

'Are you pleasing those Lions?'

She thinks to herself under Nelson's Column.

'I am no hero of the Nile, nor of Trafalgar. I am an empty vessel.'

City of Angels, yet full of devils. Will she find the exit from Oblivion, in those molten, vermillion revels?

'And will you climb that stairway to heaven? Is it true that what glitters is gold?'

That golden dust, which lies on her beside table, sedative for her sorrows.

'Oh he was a foul coxcomb. England expects every heart will follow its duty!'

She is followed, by those feral eyes;
Those on the underground, those in the streets

And those who she will wish
her eyes will never meet.

Friday- the most promising day of all.
The beginning of the weekend, but the one day that will spark appall.

Down on Mainstreet all the girls
In their fringed dresses, pouting their foxy lips and their hair waving in short messes.

The hags frown as the winged ladies pass by- displaying their carriages a little sly.

Oh, but Jane's favourite speakeasy was 'The Back Room' down on Norfolk Street: the place where the lost creatures meet.

Tin ceilings, velvet wallpaper, plush thrones and back in that dark corner, there is the sound of low moans.

'A whiskey, neat, please' as a shadow in a tuxedo walked towards her and he whispered 'Hi,' in a sensual purr.

'Who are you?' he stirred,
'Oh, I'm Miss Doe' and he lept into the stool with a swift flow.

And the jazz trumpets married the spontaneous harmonies and the saxophone created sublime melodies.

So they sat as idle as ghouls in the dim spotlights, until Jane asked Mr Buck:

'D'you fight in the war?' And he whined 'Cambrai, Amiens and Lys' - his lips seemed a little sore.

'I'm sorry - do I know you?' His face looked as familiar as Jay to Nick. A brief pause in time at that smile.

That was the final chord to the "lick".
He drove her down to Roslyn- to his replica of Versailles and Jane looked intensely shy.

'Oh, do come in,' the desperado soughed. And she walked into the gilded palace which Cupid's presence bowed.

'I have a favour to ask of you, Miss Doe. Would you be as kind to wash away my woe?'

And as they congressed under diamond chandeliers, his comrades gathered around the bed in amorphous silhouettes; watching disgustedly.

As for Mr Buck he was an alien, skin-to-skin with a haunted beauty and Miss Doe- a labourer on duty.

Did you find me, did you find me
In those silver-wrapped dreams of yours?
Did you hear sound of angels
Knocking on your door?

Or constant storms of invasion
Screaming through the glass
And I'll be there waiting
With my widows en masse.

She took your hand and went down
To the crowds of crows wailing
And you weeped like never before
As your tender eyes froze.

So beat me up and turn me down
Dunk me in the river and turn around
As your fate lines up your face
And wraps you in lace-
Black lace.

You walked out of the steam
And saw your reflection in the blood
Did you forget that this is a stupid dream and that your new life was a dud.

You devils better beat me up and turn me down
Dunk me in the river and turn around
As my fate lines up to my face
And wraps me in...
Black lace.

Hell-bent widow.
Black magic woman.
Haunted shaman.
Disturbed angel.

She'll wrap you up and wreck your world with black lace.
Black lace.

So, now we must go,
Choose a direction and flow-

Do not worry about the destination:
Enjoy the adventure in meditation.

For ebbs and flows will come
And do not forget where you came from;

Small veins in a cloistered rock.
That eventually leave and flock.

The showers clean and fill our souls
And end up, sometimes, in dark holes

I have cried over the thought of reaching the salty abyss-
But let your motifs be safe with this freshwater kiss.

We may meet again on a sunny day...
Or, up in the clouds when the sky is grey

Let the moon guide you to an eternity,
For we watch over and envelope you in fraternity.

Intense emptiness...
...lurking in the shadows.

Did you remember to turn off the light?
So that you may dwell in your sorrows.

She has travelled far, to the point of eternal fatigue.
But listen to those echoes, she is not welcome into the league.

A periphery, sulking on the outskirts
And those selfish souls will never let her in, locked in a lonely universe.

Locked lips.
Locked eyes.
Locked ears.

They laugh, sneer at her
As she dances in her little cage of doom.
But she shall not escape-

For this is her tomb.

She is often misunderstood-
as a ****
as a strong lover
as a sharp-toothed romantic.

The fire in her eyes
does simultaneously,
warm and scare those in her presence.

If only they would see
The loyal
And the caring
The complex
And the daring
flames that light her floral face.

And she is healing too;
she shall soothe the deepest disorder
that plagues her grassy companions.

The sun beams echo her roars
which burn the skies orange in her blazing gaze.

I may have not known you for long.
But long enough to feel your warm
Embrace, jaunty smile and bright face.

You cradled me when I was a baby-
If only I could have that in my memory.

You came to my new home: smiled because you couldn't smile at yourself: inside.

You spent your days by the beach with your dog, confused at Life, lost.

If only I knew you had no one to turn to. I was here to offer love, more than you could imagine.

I was here if you needed a shoulder
To cry upon, a body to sink into.

I'm glad I didn't see you like your end.
I want to see that happy, joyful girl forever inside my head.

I still feel in touch with you; parallel universes, tying your thoughts on to my dream catcher...

'The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree... with her hand in her ***** and her head upon her knee...'

And as time passes on and you have passed on, you linger
still

Walking rounds among the streets, the country lanes and by still waters.

You were forsaken for your beauty
And now in your name, I will live my life truly.

The moon is howling
at the wolf now whole.
Inside of my
Transparent skull.

It is the hour of hunting;
Of flesh-eating packs
But what is it they are wanting?
Hare blood stains the train tracks.

Those wraiths are ravenous
They are forming inside my head
Scandalous, ominous
They gather around my bed.

She's the alpha hound
Looks me in the eye:
Showing dominance crowned
And my end is nearby.

Whenever I feel like
Hanging-



lolling my head, I turn to this book.
Words appear how they are- no more, no less.
The doors of perception are infinite, no boundaries.

I may have stayed up, late, just to write here. Or drop tears on paper like rain drops on lakes.
Smudging the lines, words...

into vast grey nothingness.

To enjoy the world in a room
Full of boring analogies and empathic wallpaper.

Artistic excellence thus dies
And with it my youthful, passionate side
When you're strange no one cares:
Like a customer in a pawn shop has only come to look at wares.

Superficial, empty.

And that ghost of my former self
Comes alive when I no longer care-
If I'm strange, sadistic, wicked.
I die a little inside seeing her joy.

Like the gypsy who comes to worship Mammon; she seeks wealth, fame prosperity;
Because she has no one she can value
She can only put a price on her folly.

Bought and sold, tossed around.
Moving from group, to group:
A nomad, a merchant, a nobody.

Like the Moor who threw away a pearl richer than all his tribe-

I throw away my artistic side.

Freedom is out of reach
And once again I have been swept up on the shore of an abandoned beach.

Indifferent. Garbage. Waste.

I hope she loves you like I did.
I hope she looks into and not through those hazel eyes like I did.
I hope she plays with your scruffy hair like I did.
I hope she serenades you to sleep like I did.

I hope you will forget because I haven't.
I hope you will see light in all futures because I haven't.
I hope you will be kind and forgiving because I haven't.
I hope you find joy in someone else because I haven't.

I hope I can see the exit, because I'm blind.
I hope someday the wandering stars will align.
I hope I will seek a tongue that is not maligned.
I hope I can open the door to a new life because I'm confined.

Where the tides of Magnus swell
And his thundering roars beat lightning to hell.

We've been living in a maze.
We've been digging up our graves.
We've been throwing up our brains,
Yet these quakes will still go on.

Sickles and hammers
And tall corporate buildings, portly businessmen.
The windows and towers they will smash because of the beast inside their heads.

Black and white
Good and evil
Are there two sides? Four, eight? Or are there billions of coloured pixels;
Each twinkling their own ideologies.
But once they blend, like watercolours,
The wars commence and their crimes they won't repent.

Our conditioned brains
Entertained by an electronic screen, or perhaps a print of lies on paper.
And we will curse, wail or put other opinions on bail.

Will we live a life of sepia, of black and white?
Or will we respect all sides of that rubix cube which becomes ever more difficult to solve.

The algorithms twist, intertwine, sever
But there is not one single lever- we can pull

to save our bleeding earth.

The quakes will go on
We will not have a break from them.
We are veterans of psychological corruption;
And our armour and weapons are destroyed.

Out of the ashes I rise;
Blistered limbs, scalded eyes

Like Venus, born at sea
And arrive at shore underneath olive trees.

The rekindling of the fire has set me free- but Zephyrus' wind blows at me.

I Athena and you the Centaur;
You long to hold me, but I carry the Halberd.

I am a creature of reason and wisdom
And You, the outsider of my Kingdom.

And so the only right conclusion is hatred: malice as sharp as Caravaggio and Baglione.

So descend back into Oblivion, Lucifer
For those that abuse, will suffer.

I hear bullets piercing through the dry wind and then I remember my mission: to free those hopeless spirits who have sinned.

I fought for survival, hiding in the grass like a deceiving snake;
Slithering, swivelling, searching;
Searching for someone to lead me to my treacherous fate.

I am imploding with hurt, sorrow, suffering-
That I have contained for too long. Then a bullet fires



straight into my heart.

I loved you all those years
You raised me, shaped me, taught me how to be a soldier.
You were my guide, mother, forced me to overcome my fears.

I feel that fire burning inside of me now.
That fire that united me and you-
Only to be put out by the cruel water of my mission.

You were a patriot;
Gave up your body, life for your motherland. That anguish, ordeal
Still endures in my heart.

And it will be trapped there forever
Until I rest in a bath of worms and mud.

Betrayed by those who feared your beauty. They may known you as a ***** criminal...
But I knew you as a patriot,



Who saved the world.

Cold feet
And she likes the cold she used to know.

The gone heat
Seems like summer came a century ago

The night is dark
She walks along the train tracks like a dying soul.

Her love she'll guard
Until blood shines on her iron sword.

Knight to knight
And storm to storm
She'll stand by her unfaithful Lord

Night to night
And dawn to dawn
He's long gone but his body is warm.

Out it blooms
Like daisies flourish in the springtime.

Her life she'll doom
But there's still hope through those haunting crimes.

And if she stays
Maybe her life will solve with a big climb.

Knight to knight
And storm to storm
She'll stand by her dying Lord

Night to night
And dawn to dawn
She'll cloak herself in a reckless ward.

As I lie on an empty street
I see the city lights glimmering, shimmering
A white light flooding over me
exposing my heart hopelessly.

The city feels clean,
the pollution pure air
I am hallucinating
but the high feels rejuvenating

My head descending into an abyss
The lights are dead in every window
My arms loose and waving singing an anthem
Can nobody see me, am I a phantom?

So I drown my sorrows into a bottle
Curl up into my dungeon
That has been my bed for three years
A graveyard for all my tears

Softly, I dream away
Wishing that one day
I will be in the House of God
Safe and secure.

Something approaches me in the darkness
I clasp my knife under my carcass
An open hand awaits me
Wondrous eyes face me

I collapse into warmth.

Her long legs walk-
In    -     out    In    -    out
Of the shadows.
Hips swinging like pendulums-
Left  - right   left  - right,
Creating echoes.

Her cigarette smoke dances around the pyre:
Puff  -  puff, cough  -  cough.
And the tongue slithers like a reptile
Hiss - hiss.

She's lost in the city of Dreams.
She's an L.A woman, L.A woman.
Yet she's a dancing drunk
Sip,   sip,   sip,
Breaking the seams.

Oh, she's dangerous. Intoxicating.
Yeah, yeah.
She's a disciple of Venus
Going to work-

To the brothel she goes.

She wonders what it's like to be virtuous
Pray  -   pray!
But a full stomach relies on the next customer.
Kiss   -   kiss.

'Time for bed, I guess' she wipes off the façade.

And she slips back into the shadows.
With her gold dust, whiskey and...

She's a living hamartia. She's proud.
But her words fail to be spoken out loud.

P  a  r  t  i  a  l

P  r  o  m  i  s  c  u  o  u  s

P  e­  n  u  m  b  r  a  l

It was spring time, my love
I waited for you down by the river
Where the ripples caressed the sun's beams and daisies flooded the bank with their sweet aroma.

And my eyes met yours
Like stars in the midnight sky
And me your astronomer
Looking through the kaleidoscope of Life.

Your hands swept my messy hair aside-
A gentle breeze from your passionate mouth: and the reincarnation was complete.
Your pillowy lips were as if they belonged to Eros.

It was summer time, my friend
Under surreal sunsets we sat
The fireflies danced like bright lanterns
into the humid, hot night.

Under boughs of evergreen
I saw that there were these ivory roses
That were slowly turning fuchsia
Towards the end of the solstice.

It was autumn, stranger.
And the birdsong was muted.
The sky was closing its doors.
And with it our infatuation.

The day was cold, gray and dreary.
My teardrops were scarlet,
Pouring on to pure white roses-
And they were blood-stained.

The days grew short and dark.
And with them I lost my love.

Serves 1

Ingredients:
200g of room temperature lies
2 tbsp of chopped-up dreams
1/2 a bottle of wine
50ml of salted tears
300g burnt photographs

Instructions:

Melt the room temperature lies, until transparent. Stir in the chopped dreams, so that you can see them standing out in the rich butter of lies.

Generously pour in wine and breathe in the aromas of a dark, resinous malice. Sober the mixture with the salted tears, to make your potion more savoury for demons.

Finally, present your potion by scattering the ashes of burnt photographs. Drink immediately to enjoy the horror of your creation.

She's gone-
My medicine had thus enchanted her.
Her darkened brain becomes a slave
To the hot pangs of hysteria
And those violet tears hang on her face, like vines of Wisteria.

But, alack!
The bogey man is coming to sweep the streets
And with his blood-curdling presence
He brings his seven princes;
Heosphoros leads the way and severs
My lady's vagus with his impale morning star.

I hear weeping- is something emerging, from the molten sea of infierno? Pish! She now kneels before
The shrine of Mammon and pleads
'Heavens forfend! I must seek the ash
Path to prosperity and pretend!'

My lady's face no longer beholds
That youthful dew and that
Ethereal pigmentation of her visage.
No, no she has become achromic,
Anaemic, artic...

...I embosomed her in my arms
Tried minerals, drugs, spirits; hymns
Yet she has exchanged mortality with
Immortality: and has pleased only the Night Deity.

"Normality?" She cried, " 'Tis a rarity!"
"First you powder your visage white
And then dust eyes with 'Black as Night'
Slather crimson on your lips and cheeks and the reincarnation is complete!"

"Left one, two, three, right one, two, three
And spin around in your ill-stared gown!
Blow kisses to the monsieurs and be free for the night is young and you are the clown!"

"Then what, oh, chaste priestess?"
"Why, lead him to the velvet underground
Perhaps lock those rouged lips of yours on his and unlock his garments with that wretched kiss!"

"Oh, my mistress, do not weep!
For it is only right that you are his this week!
Look, your masque is fading like a watercolour and speak to me, pitiful girl, a little slower!"

"I hear nothing, yet your mouth is moving.
We may be weak but we are conjuring
Love's handsome embrace,
So let there be briars of joy on that face!"

"Rulers make good lovers!
And will bring peace to the war-struck lands.
Oh, excitement has filled my body
Knowing that he will wed those delicate hands."

"Thanks be bestowed on you- Priestess of Utopia! You are right, I am the Clown and I shall conceive if needs be and for that, my soul shall drown!"

The only place we could be alone was by the brook.

Beside an oak tree
You and I lay, enveloped.

It makes me feel odd that
We were once shy.

There was a flute playing a blissful melody in the distance, lulling us to sleep.

It was a Celtic fantasy. Blushed cheeks, entrancing mandolins, serene violins.

You whispered delicately in my ear:
'Forget everything. Enjoy now.'

But how can I forget and enjoy now, when I am alone, my tears rusting my guitar strings.

That girl you once layed with by the brook is shattering...

Deep
  Blue
    Nothing
        Left
               Inside
                        Here
                                Now­
                                  Pointless
                    ­       Effort
            Redundant
       Love
    Obsolete
           Maiden
                   Glass
                       Broken
                            Severed
                      ­               Heart.

Farewell to light and all things bright.

Blow on me, northerly breeze
Dry my watery eyelids
From the tears that drop
Like the Arabian trees
Cry their medicinal gum.

Oh, summer aroma
That does justice to break my defiance against this heat.
Heated affair, may you incinerate in the Sahara,
And chill to death as the night approaches in that
barren landscape.

But here I lie
Bored, invisible in the haughty summer
And behind those darkened forests
Begins a steady haunted drummer.

Rainy days-
They have beauty in them.

The sound of sneakers crunching on thick mud and drenched grass.

The snails begin their fiesta under television skies.

Why sing away the rain,
When we can dance in it;
Become tribal heroes, melt into those big slumps of water.

The horses stay out in the rain,
As do the ants, the birds, the bees, the butterflies.

Their optimism shines brighter in the monsoon than in the baked, arid desert.

And what might you see down that dark, wet alley?
Hydrogen, oxygen, acid rain?
Corroding your joys and desires into abysmal dust?

That is only one side of the story.
The creatures come out in the streets in the rain
Even in the deepest of blues, light still shines through.

And who knows what the day, year, decade, will bring?
But now and again, under television skies, those coloured pixels will form their rainbows.

Light, dark
In the city of
Grim doubt
Holding your dreams to the sun
To prove that you have won
Sink back into your wealth, Prince.

Or play your 'Ode to Youth'
Under the dew-dripping willows
To end the light to all gustos.

Should I be affectionate,
Or something exceedingly delicate?

Rich in love to the peak where it sickens
Yet exploring to where the darkness deepens

Seemingly beautiful with a lustful pride
My substantial desire for you will grow in size.

Not for petty songs or pure white roses
My hand points to where the problem poses-

a threat to your silky, blushed thighs
Will you expose your most precious prize?

I shall not wait 'til my hair fades silver
Nor to when the sweet fruit becomes bitter

O, now let us rest on fine cotton sheets!
For our passion is boiling and I do beseech

Do not let thy chastity be devoured by worms
Or my sprouting heart will firm

Lady, let us be feral birds!
Pecking away at our fleshy love

Is thou haunted by my sweet pea curse?
Heaven shall judge this yearning verse.

He stands like a Michelangelo
Statue of David;

Naked, perplexed
Shoulders - flexed
Abdomen, stretched.

In his **** glory
He carries a pitchfork, a warning glare.
Ready to slay Goliath, with his bare snare.

A symbol of strength, youth, beauty
And I must protect his duty.

For he loved me as the stoat loves the hare.
And I loved him as the poor girl that loves the rich, old man.

I all but food for his stomach
A helpless maiden, haunted puppet.

Turning the pages
Turn the pages.
She's just another lost angel
Lost angel.
Crying angel.
Weeping devil.

So I move on, turning the pages
Would you care for her?
Or turn the pages...
She is no one.
Heart full of stories, mystical magic
Enchanting, dying
Inside her- no one.

She turns her pages
She remembers- the hatred
No one will ever know.

And she's drowning
In a sea of fools
She's crowning
Her own ghouls.

Maybe I'll stop by- some day
Turn her pages- hear her say:
'I never loved you, never loved you.'
Did you feel those dying blues
Ocean, river, dying blues.
Crashing down- the hurricane will bring you down, down, down.

Will I forgive her- my haunting mirror?
She stares at the stars in my eyes-
Say goodbye.
Say goodbye.

Haunting mirror- say goodbye.

Turn my pages
Through the ages
Cut the edges
Face the faces
Leave no traces
A thousand changes.

I'm tired-

Of having to speak when no one else will.
Of having to put in all the effort when no one else will.

What do you see through those eyes glistening with tears?
I see a cadaverous heart, patched up many times, cursed and blackened.

When I go out in the streets
I feel alienated; people wearing their lovers like dashing accessories:
Hands around waists, hands intertwined.

And out of my extraterrestrial self
I misunderstand what the definition of love is.
Every time I try- I fail.
I fail to win the game of love, a deceiving checkmate, a cold-hearted stalemate.

But I'll try again.
Because wounds heal, with their time.
And whilst you think ahead, I look back.
And whilst you lift your chin, I'll sink mine down.

As a fragment of Joan of Arc
I will save my soul from invasion
I will tender that garden in my heart, plant new seeds of kindness and peace.

There will be little scars here and around my chest, but I will live on.

It was a normal day-
I went for a coffee at the Jazz Café.

And out through the soaked windows
I saw a malign, wanton city
Vehicles perishing the streets
Pouring their sooty fumes into the
Gaping mouth of the crowds.

I took a sip of the cappuccino-
The sweet bitterness;
Casted me back to those long
Winter months (wasted) -
I spent mourning about you.

I would shroud my room in black
Drink, drink, drink until-
All hues of blue
Would drown me in the Ocean of Woe.

Then Chet Baker mellowed the room:
'Some blues are sad, but some are glad, dark and sad.'

I felt as if I was suffocating.
There was something eerie about that jazz.

So I walked out-  of the light.
Let the rain rinse my sins, dance
Like a flapper: complacent, rebellious, dangerous,

puff away my eclipsed universe.
My blues were more than a cold colour:

'They're a moan of pain, a taste of strife and a sad refrain.'

After a cascade of rich, autumn leaves
Petals collapsing into the hands of the Earth-
The wandering trees still, yet grieve
Nature gives all it is worth.

The yearning sky has closed its doors
Opening them for other days.
Sparrows searching in muddy pores
In the glory of the morning haze.

A squirrel scatters, foraging
In the mossy sea of an abandoned field; a pair of gleaming eyes watch
Its burning coat of amber revealed.

Staining the white roses scarlet,
Life gives off a final lingering aroma:
A concoction of sweet breath and darkness, the sorrowful wind as lost as a roamer.

Light is a farewell gift from the darkness- for those on their way to die. Time can not make a promise
So radiance leaves without a goodbye.

Pain punctures the soul into stone
Though a ray of sun still peeks through.
My aching heart is as dry as bone
But the bleeding roses still remind me of you.

I saw your gleaming face
Through crowds of swaying hips and arms
The heat was intense and the room was dark.

Confusion as we did not greet
And the sweat solidifying to shards of sleet.
Cold, cold.

Ordering a drink
I whispered 'Hi,' and a bittersweet smile at our goodbyes.

But I danced on-
Without your visage in my mind
Without your seducing vendetta
And with a replenished joy inside of myself.

Perhaps you had never seen the way I moved:
Through sheets of black chiffon, waving like an enchantress and those winter blues which were gone.

I danced on and shouted at my beams of energy
The crowd was now closing about your face...
And I was


happy.

Nomad of Hades,
I have seen her emerald carriage...
And the treacherous path she walks on lingers with hyacinths and crocuses.

With every step of her yellowish limbs
She casts another hero to her vestigial garden
And she inhales the golden dust
That grows from the carob trees of lust.

She wears her lies in subterfuge
Even Mercury is struck by that ghastly perfume:
And let Uranus scatter more fertility into the seas- so that more maidens will fall under her trees.

Her weeping, her weeping!
We ask what is wrong, but her soul lies sleeping. Dormant, indifferent,
In lucid fantasies she cries,
'Have you any dreams for sale, warrior of Troy?'

These women, these women! Are they not content with the gifts and ways we please them?
'I seek to hold the wind,' she envelopes me with her long hands and pleading eyes.

And this is why I flee today.
I gave her what I could: intimacy and a place to stay.
Yet a pool of water lays before me and brass-stained roses all dark and gay!

Hélas, she has transpired and leaves with no delay!