Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
  And Phoebus ‘gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
  On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
  To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty bin,
  My lady sweet, arise!
    Arise, arise!

Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of naught
Save where you are, how happy you make those.
    So true a fool is love that in your will,
    Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

Some are cast in metal
others chipped from stone
yet more are shaped by hand in clay
what you sculpt, you own.

When your arms wrapped around me
I felt a process start
to render me defenceless
'gainst your sacred art.

I yielded to your motion
gave my skin up to the blade
had no cause to resist
the image you had made.

My essence pooled in trickles
flooding indents as you pressed
your fingertips into my flesh
there in rapture, I was blessed.

I yearned to feel the pitcher
every split an evolution
each fetter of the holy rasp
my growing absolution.

I stand in gleaming marble
posed by you alone
forever on this pedestal
inert upon my throne.

In fatal love I slumber
and wishes are for fools
in luminescent, aching stone
naked of your tools.

Each tapping point a petal,
the slamming maul of lust
where once caressed by chisels
now I gather dust.

I dream of you approaching
to polish me anew
so I may shine in constant thanks
at being made by you.

I went down to the ocean
an excuse for killin’ time,
an’ I found time already dead
floatin’ on the brine.

Her face was pale and lifeless,
her dress been torn to shreds,
I hitched up a sorrow
that it wasn’t me instead.

I stayed well after nightfall
just to watch her nudge the shore,
‘cos I think there’s ways of justice
and ways around the law.

I ain’t one for mercy,
I have no light inside,
but I can rise and fall, my love,
just like the turning tide.

If anger finds me wanting,
I switch to gentle peace
the dogs of war snap at my heels
straining at their leash.

Now I’m running from the ocean,
but there’s no place to hide,
this prison cell is closing in
where I will be tried.

For crimes against all comfort,
and ****** of sweet time,
I’m not the one you’re lookin’ for
the dagger wasn’t mine.

Please don’t think me restless,
there was no other way,
to separate my heart from yours
and live to fight another day.

To twine and wind within and round
my heart with yours, a ribbon found.
Sleeping bows, silence lies
loops and tails, undone in sighs.
Silken lashes, a knotted kiss,
wrists together in bounded bliss.
A thousand fathoms as light subsides,
take me down, together tied.
Glossy one side, inked on back
drawn by a hand who's skill I lack.
Lungs sawn and slaughtered, of breath be conned
yet still I yearn for black beyond.
Your gentle bow belies such strength
hidden power in it's lengths.
Wrapped now, helpless, and happy so
in love's tangled depths I go.

my skeleton never liked me
very much. it cracks in unusual
places, ribcage poking out of its
skin prison, the frailty of it
breaking beneath the musical
whispers of the wind through hollow
spaces.  i see

light bursting beneath the flash
of a camera and my skin
incinerates - do not look do not touch
do not look - and the charcoal in
my lungs is set on fire. i wake up
with ash beneath my tongue
far too often. my skin

despises me now that i have
bruises in places no one could
kiss better. there's this scar above
my right knee, which dislocates when
my life falls out of its socket, and it
reopens and blood pours from the
renewed wound too often. i think

i have a body that likes to believe it is dying.

A word of advice:
If you don't mean what you say,
then do not say it.

Help, Lord; for the godly has ceased in me;
For the faithful frail part of me has died
And this world’s corruption eats at my Will
My Will to Love, my tongue that’s silent
Our lips are our own: but where is my Divinity?
It does not reach for the stars
But is hidden in the shadow of my errors
I am oppressed by myself, my bad habits
And while I sigh for the needy, I am powerless
To help, to redeem this fate
The Words of the Lord of Love are pure
But purified now I am not, I am lost
Help, Lord; for the humble and the meek
Need a new kind of energy, strength, hope
When the vilest men are exalted, the most compassionate
Suffer the unbearable isolation of poverty
How long wilt thou forget me, Lord of Love?
How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
I have been looking for you everywhere
In everyone, but only see glimmers now
Having sorrow in my heart daily
Consider and hear me, O Lord my cherished God.

Silence is not keeping quiet
because you have nothing
to say...

Silence is having a lot
to say but no desire
to speak...