beyond midnight
restless
Whiskey floods the veins
Unshed tears over ashes,
these remains
Mourn the dead
Mourn the gone
Mourn the heart
from strong to wrong
Mourn the squandered past
the hollow aimless now
Frozen memory of that final last Farewell
Ponder empty broken words
Promises unkept
Pierced with sword
of hopes inept
Future nameless, fading figure
Sink as restless sleep takes over
Failed the fight
Dead tonight
Hope perhaps with morning light.

Shaded shadows cometh to carry my weary soul,
burdens lifted not in part but whole.
Life, it changes from now to then
does it end, or start again?

A breath unclaimed in silent air,
a final blink, a distant stare.
Time folds in on whispered skin,
and all I was drifts deep within.

I don’t fear death
we all go.

What haunts me
is return
no memory,
no map

just ******* it all up
again
like it’s
new.

Death is coming
fast in the bones,
slow in the breath.

Each day, the fight grows heavier,
but will grows thin
a thread unraveling
in falling wind.

Still, I wait.
Not for mercy
but for the hush
that follows pain.

The sound of the siren curls like a question,
spinning through concrete veins.
Mist settles like smoke from a lie,
wrapping rooftops in guilt,
truth leaking out,
no doubt.

Ey *****, what you say now?

The quick brown fox jumped over a fence
dropkicked a lazy red faced little cow.
Ooh—million attempts at what,
a vow?
You think that pretty little grin,
that “look at me!” skin,
a smile like a tooty fruit troll-face is your win?
Was that enough to stall the fall,
to silence the cracks
in the mirror where you crawl?
get your sad little point through a crooked corridor door,
what a bore.

Fake shouts—“Oh me!”—
****, the picture hangs skew,
naming different artist oh no
what we going to do?
Raise one wait maybe raise two!

Don't you all see,
come quick have look
I think it's the cover of a old stolen book,
but you?
Still posing like it's new, true
like you bought it, distorted
taught the paint colour in a shade,
oh my architecture
Come put on a parade.

Sirens scream,
ambulance or wambulance, who knows?
I called it for you ! 911 what's your emergency?
A thief stealing stained glass and borrowed hymns / from cello kids in cathedral whims,
sky dims.

We hear you loud and clear.
we were already on our way !
It's me ma –it's me ma – it's me ma !
the sound of the siren in the distance while mist settles truth in a darken hue of blue red blue
just definitions oh so clear
words they disappear,
just like you.

Do you think putting a wall between changes my life,
Oh dear me how can this be?
your poetry sounds like Bert and Ernie,
Wambulance pulled out a gurney.

Lights—camera—play your part,
the damsel routine,
the broken-heart art.
Sending smoke signals
into the void,
hoping someone out there
feels annoyed enough to care,
while you hang onto a distant stare,
When you think your poems are:
Rare as dime in a bubblegum machine.

Look everyone—flatter her
while she’s battering,
Chattering
but truth?
Just uncouth.

Yeah, satire packs it in
like a left hook to your chin.

You think you’re special, huh?
Generic tone with a borrowed soul,
dancing all night in knockoff roles,
trading moans for coin in bathroom stall.
under gallery lights you’ll never know,
painting tears you moan, groan "nut"
never own, "moaning Lisa on loan".

Living in a glitch of an AI scheme,
is that where your writing dreams?
Minimal with a lisp, stale not crisp,
just a blur in a comment stream,
boohoo he just being mean!

You shout so loud
for your petty crowd,
like this song must be you
Bet you think this song is about you too
Dupe do dube doo
Maybe it is.
Maybe it’s not.
Maybe it’s just a monkey
at a five-card standoff
Raised the stakes
flinging ****
at signs it forgot.

Either way,
I couldn’t give two *****.
Not three, not four.
**** girl,
you inspired even more.

Chum-chum, here he ****
crusty knight in silicone armor,
itchy little *******,
twitchin’ for trauma,
chasin' **** like karma.
Old ******* always show up to rescue
anything with cleavage and a crisis menu

Then he sends out a drive-by "flex" / like he’s living in the ******* Ritz
quick on the text
running for any pair of ****,
click n' follow!
dam don't wanna sound ******
that’s twenty "likes" right there,
ain’t that the bitz?

Ah just so silly
Not even a real brit
But he give you a "like"  for a ***,
excuse the wit..

The next day,
your words decay.
Lovers brawl,
no one’s wrong
but I’m still right,
because I don’t belong
to your broken juries
or boo hoo storybook flurries.
They didn’t hang me
they found you wanting.
So fix your shoes.
Get braces.
Chase your high
at the soapbox races.

Boop-boop-de-doo,
cry me a meme.
I don’t fit your box
I reshape the dream.
Turn corners to clouds,
make square roots bloom
in the garden of my mind,
where there's no room
Kazoom.

You thought the judge
would swing your way
as you wagged your finger,
tried to slay.
Hey hey hey, lies! Barney rubble
But turns out fate had a line or two,
No trouble double double
and now the curtain’s drawn
on you,
maybe you should get a clue?

I’m no status, do I look like facebook
looking for likes,
looking for fights
stars and fake blends
No hashtag trend.
I don’t bend
for clickbait or dead-end friends.
I write for the real,
for those who feel
not ******* in trash bags
with wait - oh fake flags
and empty mags,
not turds in windsocks

Stamp your feet, scream your shame,
twirl like a TikTok user caught in flame.
“What you trying to ******* do?”
Here’s a suggestion:
*******.
Kiss a frog.
Post it on your blog
choke on a log,
“****-sing your lies like a sad lil cartoon”
Bet thats your kinda thing too.

Here’s my *******,
signed in Sharpie
Big, loud, and bright:

****. YOU. FULL STOP
While we all have a laughie.

There is an island where night wears perfume
of crushed orchids, rain-soaked roots,
and the shadows of drums echoing through
wild fig, mahogany, and sandalwood.
It is shaped like her
hips in the curve of the bay,
lips in the rise of each tropical thunderstorm.

Dark waterfalls pour from her crown,
cascading curls of black fleece,
chaotic rivers that snap the teeth of combs
and drown the day’s discipline.
In each cove, a secret hums
a memory, a map,
a honey-thick promise.

She shakes herself loose and I follow
a rag in the wind of her motion,
spun silver threads, stripped, surrendered.
My thoughts tangle in her forest of scent
spice, sweat, incense,
a melody too wild for music.

This is no place found on any map
but I’ve been here in dream and fever.
Oarsmen chant in rhythm with my breath,
bright sails crack like kisses overhead,
and vessels glide over gold-threaded waves
toward the core of her heat.

Her island is a hearth for the starved,
where no thirst remains unquenched,
no ache unacknowledged.
I come hollow, dry
I leave fulfilled, wet
she fills me with color,
with rhythm,
with her storm-fed pulse.

And when I rest,
head cradled in the dark tide of her,
she rocks me gently
as the night sings low
under moonlight sky
and eyes staring down
a connoisseur of ecstasies,
nursing the nerves of every storm-tossed soul
that dares arrive
and stay.

From heaven’s grace or hell’s unholy flame?
You move like wine—both remedy and sting.
Both love and ruin follow in your name,
And eyes like suns make trembling senses sing.

Your kiss undoes the pride of wiser men,
Transforms the meek to kings, or kings to dust.
No law can tame your steps, again and again
You rule with neither mercy, care, nor trust.

I’ve seen you dance where tombstones split the earth,
Your jewels like blood, your laughter like a knife.
You dress in death and sell it under mirth,
And fools call that destruction love, or life.

What matters source—divine or demon’s art?
You light the dark, and that undoes my heart.