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Stephen Moore Oct 2019
What am I if not a man with a heart that is weighed down with the absence of you?
I know nothing else.

What am but the man who was too tall to walk down the aisle with you?
If only I were someone else.

Your sweetest smell,
Your lingering light on hair that you stroked and caressed with henna,
You are a stranger,

What am I but the man that won’t let go of long lost you?
I am no one else.
Stephen Moore Oct 2019

For impressionable sons and daughters of time,
Tied like flies to spider web strings and mothers impossible dreams,
Wide eyed,
Lied to,
By ignorant ministers and cider soaked child choked brides.


For Children
Forever dulled and cowed by the good book,
Heavy on this earth like rocks in sand and impervious to reality,
Wide eyed
Lied to,
By gullible Fathers and wine wrecked god bothered priests.


Priests and teachers,

Words that weigh me down to the past and to fear,
Words that chain me to home.


Stephen Moore Sep 2019
Heaven was 1977.

See how the Vauxhall Viva rusts aside shooting rhubarb,
How the shed tumbles in golden creosote,
A gate latches with a clunk and there I stand on pebbledash shed tile,
Pushing red Raleigh Grifter to shed with  the family rides.

A cat slinks towards a Whiskas tin a rattling under winding can opener and I am back in 1977.

Heaven was 1977.

Vicky Kingsford was by my side.

Sun played on my home and I was in heaven.
Stephen Moore Sep 2019
I am man with a loud mouth,
Some would like to shut it tight with lips stitched like a zipped bag,
But I am a man with a free loud voice I choose to let loose on this world.

Deafness would be a gift,
Not to hear my utter bile would be like butter and honey on bread,
But I’m a man who will be in your face no matter how closed your ears are.

The world is full of ill I shout,
Politicians run like tossed free green ball bearings on blue ice,
But I am a man who will not be cast aside and on their heels I’ll be till their ears are nailed to the floor.
Sometimes I despair
Stephen Moore Sep 2019
A Crowded room bathed in garnet light,
In it, the dammed, desolately await their fate,
Clawing at barbed wire curtains,
Crying as their fears find them.

Hotel Paranoia,
Neon sign blinks, winking at weary strangers,
Manchester back street, off beat Air B&B boutique,
For £45,
A trip into drug induced escape.

Come all ye strangers,
All ye weary Brexit betrayers,
Take a night flight into your dreams,
Fly till your heart rips.

She wanders in golden gardens full of perfumes,
Crowds of travellers find sweet love,
Bliss in the arms of a long lost love,
Till morning comes and gloom returns.

Winding down, sweet Nicole finds something crawling up her sleeve,
Blistering skin peels and blood soaks the sheets,
Dreams become screams and around her,
In the garnet room, travellers find hell.

Flesh crawls with many legged bugs and thugs wielding clubs pull syringes from the floor,
Whilst guests rest in pools of *****,
Their fears coasting, rolling, uncontrolled,
Bliss fades and fear breaks bones.

Far from home in Hotel Paranoia,
Weary fools fly from bliss to fear,
Lights become fires,
Floors become wired,
Dripping taps spill acid onto skin.

Disappear here,
Lie down and disappear.
Stephen Moore Aug 2019
Treasured girl,
Lost in sand or beneath turgid sea,
What if you were a prize for this rough life?
Somewhere to be found at a quests end?

Stolen pearl,
A gem too precious for a boorish fool.

When all that befalls this man subsides,
Will you be my silver and gold?

Lost treasure,
A pleasure through cowardice lost,

too long.
Stephen Moore Aug 2019
Dummy turns a plastic cheek,
Ready for a drunk thugs slug of fist on PVC.

Father made dummy boy like some hurried Pinocchio,
But wood was too good,
Too alive,
Too sensing.

Plastic bends and buckles as the brutes words distorts a flexing mind,
Days pass and the dummy child goes to school.

A dummy listens but has no life of its own,
No words, works or wants,
No defence.

School boys laughs at the dummy child,
But the dummy has nothing to return.

Dummy boy leaves school,
Scared, scarred, plastic head stretched like elastic,

A dummy site in a window,
The object of passing eyes and self customised to court attention.
Plastic fool throws himself to the crowd and the whims of those who see his flaws.
I was bullied by my father and only now am I writing to respond
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