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.

Through the glass
And in the ringlet of
Sunlight He stood in,
There was tranquility.

To be tranquil
At one's own sorrows
Taxes and tenders
The flesh of living.

As notes and chords
Ascended into
The smokescreen
Of his honesty,

I somehow felt
Soothed and scared
Behind a closed door.
Emotionally longing for more.

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.

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.

Words hurt no matter how small.
Words hurt and hath their power to enthrall.

And I've been hurt
By your malevolent call.

Like the impossible love of Venus and Mars and as time progresses- the death of old stars.

You thought I would never miss you-
But I see your red hair as a burning visage in my mind.

I see your face as a hallow, sacred artifact and your lips as gentle as Hyancith's.

But that discus that Apollo threw
Has struck my heart and the blood hath spewed-

all over my hands.

So I sit like a hag, aged by heartbreak
Mourning like a widow- a black widow, that will **** her joys for a selfish sake.

Words do hurt no matter how small
Words hurt and hath their power to cause downfall.

In the dusky primitive kitchen,
I sat beside the old window.
Mourning, quavering, under the cooling moonlight and savouring the river of Wine singing,
'I've been mistreated, don't mind dying.'

And for a moment
It felt like a spectre was emerging
From that scarlet pool
Which glistened navy in the night.

The flimsy shadow, laden with gray,
Like the smoke that spews from the chimneys, whistled.
Then I saw that it was me, but a lost
Soul that had succumbed to the debris.

The vinyl player whined:
'People tell me walkin' blues ain't bad'
But there was nothing I could do but be sad and lament the love we had.

I looked into the mirror of Life
And saw fire blistering, where peace should be.
Horns growing, where flowers should
Gleam.
The storm that was brewing benighted me.

If I had hanged on...
If I had stayed strong-
Perhaps you would be here singing with me
Instead of our hearts throbbing with
Agony.

So our boats must beat on
Sail away with the wind; against the Deep Blue
Our paths crossed and now no longer belong to the quixotic future we were enfettered to.

'People tell me the old walkin' blues ain't bad'
But I was just a ghost, in a dusky, primitive kitchen,
Sitting against the shut window, mad;
'Well it's the worst old feeling Lord-
I most ever had.'

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I am imperfect.
I often take the route
Flooded with rivers and rocks
Jumping from bridge to bridge
Raft to raft, without fully thinking.

I try to immerse myself;
Like each fish and clam,
Surround myself with a layer of thick
security, failing to see it is transparent.

If I can be hunted and seen,
You would no longer see my superficial skin. I would be
bones, meat and dust. Dust from those stars, which burst
their supernova glitter.

And even in the darkest of nights
You will see a skeletal heart, tainted eyes or a
frowning mouth. The rain falls in the forest of my mind,
and as slick as I am,        I slip
trip up on my yellow brick road.

My thoughts are not my own, when I say
things that hurt you and myself.
With my oar I paddle to lands uncharted;
treacherous, dangerous places which must be left in peace.

Tracing the roots of my nerves and the chasms of my brain-
I trespass the battle within.

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.

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.

'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.

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.

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.

What can I do?
When I am so smitten for thee-
That the icicles of my past, melt in just
a stare of thine starry eyes.

There is a chasm between Me
and Thouest, which lies a fire so warm,
And bright, it does at once light
the darkest of nights and desires.

What I would give-
to feel thine enamoured heat...
Caressing the knots and scars across my body.
Your kiss is comparable to the smokiest oud and fresh tobacco-
lighting our pyres.

Alas, it is impossible to rhyme in your presence!
I stutter at the fluttering of your individual hairs
standing up to greet
the deity you love most deep.

This vessel is the human alchemy for thee:
The everlasting sycamore cooling beside the sea.

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.

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.'

The bee was forbidden from kissing flowers.

Out of the hive, she found her free will. Though
her wings fluttered under heavy turbulence.

Amazed, by the liberty that flowers held in petals, all around
She began to work on arousing subjects, in the playground.

Irises, roses, fuchsias and sunflowers.
Purple, red, pink and yellow- for endless hours.

Her mouth met many lips, sensing negative charges
She finally understood that natural energy was harmless.

Satiated, by her existential discoveries in The Garden
She returned to the tall trees to receive her pardon.

But along the path home she was surrounded.
The colours melted and mixed into grey and brown.

Unable to control the velocity to self-discovery,
Wary droplets of perfume sprayed in cries.
It was then she found her guise,
Judged by those who told lies,
Reached into her abdomen and prised,
No fail-safe to catch her from the skies.

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.

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.

I was painted to be-
A majestic lioness
With a hungry heart
And beauty resembling art.

I was drawn to be-
A muscular manifestation
Of swift and stable poise
A roaring constant noise.

But I am no prototype for prejudice
This lion, is loyal to herself
And belongs to the savanna,
The rich mud in the Ghana.

I do not care for gold
Or for my pompous title
I shall not use my claws
For such a petty cause.