my rough and tattered edges like sea glass
smoothly rounded by her passions
relentlessly polished by intimate contact
with her welling water and earthy grit

the reality of her excites me
humbling any romantic doubt
dispelling any fantasy skepticism
instilling a will for the moment

she is energy in pure spherical form
encircling this scattered life
she holds for me a sense of place
a bookmark to poetic existence

just as bands bind magic barrel staves
as rainbows secretly circle underground
as concentric rings indicate growth
love will revolve even as it expands

In the silence of the night I hear myself talk,
A song, a whisper, knowing that this peace
Is the only thing sane in the chaos that surrounds,
And in this quietness, a radiant light shines within my inner self.

And as my mind finds wings, to fly out of this prison
Gracefully gliding across calm waters of a flowing river
Finding its way into the sea,
I give my thoughts freedom from the misery of life.

As the skies begin to cry with tears of devastation
All that is beautiful, needs an eulogy for being lost in our sins.
And as coal black our hearts have turned,
The spring may never greet us with open hands
The birds may never sing the song of their hearts.

Sink me in a river, chase my soul into the wilderness,
Where my breath is shallow and my thirst is never quenched.
Alas, these musings of the night will end soon
As another explosion rocks the very foundation of my faith in humanity.

I have opened up my mouth
and taken out a spare pair
of butterfly wings
(pinched between thumb
and forefinger),
used-to-be-dusty but now
slightly damp from their
place of residence.
I dried them myself,
striking match after match
and holding each underneath,
close,
but not too close.

Instead of drying they
shrivelled up like petals
after leaving the flower.
As if to preserve warmth,
curling inwards,
they shivered, animated
by the heat of the glowing stick.

The flame got too close
to my fingers. I dropped it,
swearing. Pinched the wings too
hard (reflexes), the membrane
broke between my fingers
and the remnants
of freedom fluttered softly
to the ground.

Today I met four horsemen, riding on a trail
One looked hungry, one looked ill, and one looked deathly pale
The last one looked so angry, he had war within his eyes
They reigned their steeds, came to a stop, and took me by surprise

"The end is nigh mere mortal" the pale one rasped at me
"Your Lord has come, the Earth is done, there's nowhere you can flee!"
I pondered for a moment, and then a thought occurred
"It’s student rag week, right?" I said, "You all look quite absurd!"

I went on with my journey, and met another stranger
Dressed in a robe, with sandalled feet, he seemed to pose no danger
He raised his hands with palms outstretched, and I observed old scars
Above his head, the oddest thing, a halo bright as stars

"Prepare yourself for Judgment" proclaimed he in a lofty voice
He opened a book, took a quick look, then said "Oh right, you're nice!
First one today" he muttered, "Most go the other way"
"Of course they do!" I forced a smile, and slowly backed away

I bade farewell politely, and he hurriedly wandered on
"It takes all sorts", I mused, feeling glad that he had gone
I resumed my journey eagerly, looking forward to it's end
And all was good, right up until, I went around a bend

The path was blocked with walking dead, flesh hanging from their bones
The younger ones, despite their state, were using mobile phones!
One told me that his name was Elvis, and he used to be a singer
But he stared at me, so hungrily, that I didn't dare to linger

When finally I made it home, I grabbed a bottle of *****
I sat right down, switched on TV, and flicked onto the news
"Breaking Story! The end is here, The Apocalypse has begun!"
The reporter seemed excited, and was waving round a gun

Shots rang out and sirens wailed, not all of them on TV
I heard commotion, in the street, a bit too close for me
I took a glug of whisky, and it tasted mighty fine
"If the world was going to end", I said, *"I'm sure there'd be a sign ..."