How sweet it must be
To be loved by a poet
Beauty and laughter immortalised
In honeyed prose
For those
Whom you will not know
Whom you will not meet
Only those whom you will dream of
Only those who will sigh over
Your grace, your love
From the honeyed mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muse

How sour it must be
To be hated by a poet
Ugliness and rage immortalised
In destroyed prose
For those
Whom you will know
Who you will meet
Only those who will see you
Only those who will cry over
Your disdain, your wrath
From the dry mouth
Of the poet who had chosen you
As their muses

The pantheon of muses
The poet possesses
Will never reveal themselves to the reader
But the reader will already know the glory and infamy
Of the muses the poet possesses
The lovers
Perfection personified
Only known to the unconscious mind
With faces unknown
The enemies
Imps of imperfection
Already known to the waking realm
With more faces than that which can be counted

How bitter it must be
To be a poet
Glorifying and horrifying mistakes
In quickened prose
For those
Whom you love
Whom you hate
Only those who will read of you
Only those who will ignore you
My emotions, my consequences
From the careless mouths
Of the ones who had chosen the poet
As their acquaintance

Dearest Ophelia:
Daughter of the murdered man
Sister of the murdered man
Lover the man who murdered your men
This is an ode to your fictitious life

Ophelia, my love, you are divine
Oceanic and loving, you are the blessed petals
Of a plucked flower in hopes of a fortune

Irrational, eccentric,
Your whims
Become the whims of others

The ickle darling
Who needs help most
Dying a death so jarring

Sinking, sinking, thinking
Into the murky depths unknown
By the Queen’s words not shown

By rue,
By rosemary,
By fennel,
By *****,
By columbine,

By regret,
By remembrance,
By foolishness, flattery, and adultery,
By love,
By faith and hope

Her judgement most bitter-hearted
Her judgement most secretive and dry
Her judgement most sweet-scented

Lost to a fit of laughter
By the maiden’s wit
Her act comes to a close
With mermaid-like prose

At the world’s edge,
Upon a steep ledge,
I must ask the everchanging blue:
Why must I fall in love with them?

Whereupon, I break bread
With my enemies
I must ask the everchanging red:
Why must I fall in love with them?

Again, and again,
It is a dinner that ever ends
It’s the common place of disaster
A comedy of manners
Drenched in sinister designs
Beyond the grinds
Of my understanding
Of the world

It’s the Theatre of the Deranged
Laughter
So much laughter
And I don’t know what they’re after
I’m the jester
Without a wry disguise
Cleverness beneath comedic idiocy
I’m the fool
In this Theatre of the Deranged

Discussions at a lopsided table
Where only those who obey the master
May talk – all else must listen
To her, to her, to her!
Gorged on foods
I never wanted
There is nothing sweet
Left for me to eat

Mouth sealed shut
Except to laugh
But there’s nothing funny
When you’re the joke
That’s gone on too long
But the party is far from over
When you’re the court jester
To the Queen who rules the world
To the King who rules the world
To the Jack who rules the world
To the Ace who rules the world
To the suit who rules the world
To the world who rules the world

To the monarchs who uphold
The declarations of entertainment
And attend the gathering
At the edge of the world
Adorned with velvet curtains
And velvet lies
In a swirling and everchanging
Red and blue
Known only as
The Theatre of the Deranged

Dead end days
Spent by dead-end kids
Living on a dead-end street
Listening to a dead-end radio
Sing about dead-end dreams
That taste bittersweet on the dead-end tongues
Of these dead-end kids
It’s just another dead-end day
Doing dead-end deeds
In a dead-end world of grey

Dead-End Boy
Met Dead-End Girl
Born was a dead-end friendship
But the Dead-End Boy
Had dead-end feelings
For the Dead-End Girl
But the from the Dead-End Boy
The Dead-End Girl felt no joy
In a dead-end instant
Their dead-end friendship did die

Now the Dead-End Boy
Lives life unknown on a dead-end road
And the Dead-End Girl
Works a dead-end job
But in her dead-end head,
She’s singing dead-end lies
On a dead-end radio
Using her dead-end tongue so sweet
To talk about her dead-end dreams
And listening in, are dead-end kids
On a dead-end street
Their dead-end lives
Just some more dead-end deeds done
Just some more dead-end days
Done in a dead-end world forever in greys

I cherish the music
Phantasms in the audio
The smell and the touch
When it comes to you
Dear Music Man
You leave me with a musical mania

Come on, Music Man
Take me by the hand
Honey, you’re so electric
You should come with a warning
Danger: high voltage

When we’re together
It feels like forever
We’ve got a live-wire energy
An electric sort of synergy
You’re the melody
I’m the lyrics
Melding together
The perfect composition

Good music on the score
Vibrations coming up through the floor
Our ***** touches will leave us sore
And wanting more

When your hands are on your guitar
I want them on my back
I want them on my hips
And I want your lips on my lips
And I want your voice in my bones
Shaking me
Shaking me
Shaking me

Men like you
Are admittedly a dime a dozen
But like a jukebox
I’d put a dime in you
Because I love listening
To your voice
It’s like a smooth, sustained cello line
A bass line dripping with warmth
Dropping in my heart

I was lying on my bed
Thoughts of you stuck in my head
When it’s heavy as lead
I know what you’ve said

And what you’ve sung
Will get me through
The nights
And the mornings
Where dreams
Thicken the loneliness
Of when you aren’t there
Or when anyone ain’t there
Just the slowly strangulating air
Dealt by hands
Belonging to a flutist
With the deeds of a duellist
Who makes me battle

Against the song I sing
Against the song I want to sing
Against the musical mania
Against the sing you sing
Against the song you want to sing
Against the Music Man

Walking through cluttered art
A placid pace through a placid place
A green yard gone red with rust
Metal sculptures
Giant windmills
Broken, missing pieces
Wire birds twisted around walls
Bent out of shape
Graffitied and damaged
Stop signs

A farmyard
By memories of childhood
Pleasant associations
Of family and fortune
Where strangers become friends
Friends unknown
I meet the sunken eyes of my Grandfather
Over a table decked with games and festivities

A depressed omen
That hails wisdom
From years gone by
And years that will pass
Where experience
Shall meet practice

In games that doth test
Character and adversity protest
Where seeking advice
Bends the shape
Of already broken shapes
Inhumane aspect
Of people most suspect

Success and favours
Changing clothes
Changing personas
To meet the ever-changing situation
In the journey of my dreams
In the journey of my lives
I will overcome the challenge
And take my claim
Of success
And favours
My good fortune
Through
Divination of divine dreams

I caught her eye
Through her heart-shaped Gucci sunglasses
Cherry red lips
And just as sweet-smelling,
She smiled

With scarlet nails,
Upon a slender and soft hand
She beckoned me
I was nervous
She was gorgeous

One hand on a wiry steering wheel
Belonging to a pastel coloured Chevrolet
I leaned in through the lowered window
She smiled
Her other hand carded through
A magenta mop of messy hair
She laughed

She was a woman
Wet and wild
With a mischievous smile
And a lilt in her voice,
She asked me for my name and number
I gave her a lot more than that

The ocean’s roar
Against a dodgy seaside town
She took me for a ride
And what a ride it was
Seeing the sights
Rolling on a road
Through places neither of us know
The engine purrs
And so, does she
As she laces one arm across my shoulders
From the driver’s seat
My heart skips a beat

We holed up in a motel
She had bought the room
Days ago
With her Daddy’s credit card
Her Chevrolet parked out front
Our room
Her room
Amid plasticky ferns
And stinking asphalt
Under a hazy summer cloud

Vintage dresses in her closet
Perfume bottles
Glistening on her drawers
Elegant scents
In an inelegant room
Out the window
Encased in nautical décor
I could glimpse the sea and sand
I ran my fingers
On the edge of her bedside table
She ran her fingers
Along the edge of my spine

The bed bounced
Beneath our weight
Touching, whispering
Clothes on the floor
I couldn’t have wanted more
For she was
All for me
A first like none other

She was gorgeous
A dreamy goddess
I did see go
In a pastel pink Chevrolet
Wearing Gucci glasses
And an impish smile
On cherry cola flavoured lips
Above eyes
Which were bright
Like swirling, burning stars
A vivacious light
To count my blessings
And amorous bruising by