The Unfulfilled, Departing

Quiet steps fade into a gentle abyss of dissolution,
Leaving a last look, a tender kiss
To linger among the phantoms of a coal black night.
They would never meet again.

Star crisp clarity, an eternal impassive curtain of life
Drawing across his theatre of sorrows,
Closing down a short incandescent episode
That pierced the daily dross.

Own breath taints the frigid air; moist, pointless exhalation.
Life left laden with loss.
Last warmth, last smile, last light touch burns within.
Within, a cramped circle of self-doubt.

A car door crashes against an all too natural silence.
He felt eyes and minds upon him;
The emotion hungry, trawled up disembodied dead
Crowding a cold lonely wood.

An old man will dreamwalk a bright stage with no audience,
Embrace a girl girded with gentle grace-
To fall back, crawl back upon
The cross of reality, nail driven to an orthopaedic chair.

Invocation

Your incandescence emerges from cyclic play of labyrinthine colours,
An alternating spectre in this overbearing world of ours.
Your time-immune face flames, resolves in swirling coalescence.
You speak. I kneel. I give absolute acquiescence.
Mental walls made transparent to the love light of your eyes
Are breached and I offer no defence to the disarming smile
You give to reveal your knowledge of what within me lies.
I cannot feel where I am or know what this implies.

You leave me to watch in wonder when you weave into the wind.
You grant my spirit a mirror for your gentle face,
And now alone, I am cloaked again by the silence of this place,
Clinging to thoughts watermarked by your ethereal grace.

The Waif’s End in the City

What had he said?
Damp duvet drags
Upon a bed for the dead;
New morning for hags.

Outside, the clean-
Scurrying on
Past her, the unseen
Fallen swan.

A warm cigarette,
(‘Smoking Kills’
But, no threat
To fish denied gills.)

A cold cafe;
***** dope for money,
Bright colors from grey.
(Dying seemed funny.)

Can’t live
With no respect.
He won’t forgive
A life wrecked.

Canary yellow,
Parasols in play.
Elsewhere is mellow,
Hyde Park is clay.

A Little Match Girl
In a ladies’ toilet;
Abandoned pearl
With a cold sweat.

I saw a new grave.
I heard a man phone.
Green men couldn’t save
An eighteen year old crone.

A small crowd gathered:
They spoke of shame,
Of sullied blood,
Of a girl with no name.

Words stained with pity
Are all that remain.
Her tomb a cold city,
Its voice her last pain.

Substance Abuse

Kitten soft and gentle screams
Melt into pallid pulses of the night.
I must lie involved with dreams
To freeze the unease of now.

He calls from another world;
Insipid intrusions on insular rides.
But you can leave all curled
On a duvet warm and bright.

To succumb to the numb
Soothes the slow sweep of despair.
The joy of elsewhere
Is worth the price to be dumb.

College clean machines whir-
Should I infer from the cat’s purr
Happiness reigns supreme?
I seem to dissolve....

Nothing is private.

They are there:
Watching, listening,
Inducing, controlling,
Judging, interfering.
Experimenting.
You can't even hide
Inside.

The Leaving

It’s six thirty three,
The alarm: a frigid banshee.
My key:
Lost in a beneath-bed puzzle.

Arrive at work,
My space: lost to a ****.
His Merck:
Here and defining late.

This meeting,
Tabled folk: my business ring.
Anything:
Is better than this?

It’s ten thirty,
The boss: success thirsty.
*****:
No ethics for this race.

It’s twelve forty five,
Salad: on this we thrive.
I skive:
Long lunch for Sue.

Two forty one,
My work: nowhere to run.
Begun:
Disenfranchisement.

By five twenty two,
Morals: ***** you.
Their glue:
Rinsed away by rain.

It’s now 6.08
Life: It can’t now wait.
Free state:
Leaving feels good!

Persephone

She comes to her mother’s arms:
This time of thresholds, this mantle of new starts,
This cradle of lives, festival of births,
This verdant lifting from the dead,
This effusive, joyful time!
Cold shadows fast fade as new light invades.

In this womb we might be:
Our time of meanings, our caresses under her smile,
Our music of charms, spells of secrets,
Our dismantling of tedious time.
Our frozen fire could melt;
Merging mirth will meld when no access is withheld.

I will honour with thanks the Moon:
We could dance deftly, or be still in love,
We could nurse fingers, or bathe with eyes,
We could climb heights, or fall into bliss,
We could simply be free.
Goddess blessed, Spring graced, traced by light