Take these words and hold them dear
as proof that once I lingered here
within these hallowed written walls
that speak the fate of one and all.

Do not mourn me when I'm gone
heal your heart and carry on.
In sorrow ne'er my heart did dwell
for I was blessed to know you well.

Place no flowers, lay no stone
for barren earth is not my home
no marker there to bare my name
no mourners heads bowed deep in shame.

Shed a solitary tear,
then walk in light and never fear
as darkness creeps across the land
I will be there to hold your hand.

Bullet and blade
Have ended
Many a friend.

Some were warriors
Living by sword, others
Just unlucky.

No one safe from
Anything. I buy her
Pepperspray instead of

Flowers these days.
Keep leaving
Butterfly knives in the

Pockets of her coats.
I am a man of non-violence,
But one with worlds to lose.

I miss the days when the fight
Ended as ground was hit.
Knuckles and bones were

All we needed; men fencing
For themselves with nothing
But themselves,  

And women were there to be
Charmed and fought over. Not
Left torn and terrified

In a ditch, broken beyond repair,
Their men helplessly wielding
Lead and steel at the absence

Of the animal responsible.
I'll buy her flowers today.
Flowers, and walk her home.

Bullet and blade
Have ended
Many a friend.

The weight of their
Tragedies is about the
Same

As that of the crates of ammunition
It takes to keep the world
Safe from the threat of itself.

There is a forest old as hillsides
tall, majestic, dappled shades
fall on ground beneath the silent
gnarled defenders of the glade.

There they stand in ancient splendour
many souls have passed their way
often used as welcome shelter
from the heat of summers day.

Sweet the air they breathe in chorus
our life's breath their lungs provide,
soaking up our daily poison
so that we may live and thrive.

You seas of men intent to clear them
citing progress, peddling greed
tearing roots from precious mooring
laying waste to nature's seed.

**** the beauty of a landscape
displace creatures for your need
rupture fragile ecosystems
scar the earth and watch it bleed.

To you I ask a simple question,
as I see the land bereaved.
What need has man of all this progress
when he can no longer breathe?

I sat within the valley green
I sat me with my true love
My sad heart strove the two between
The old love and the new love

The old for her the new
That made me think of Ireland dearly
While the soft wind blew down the glade
And shook the golden barley

T'was hard, the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bound us
And harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign chains around us

And so I said the mountain glen
I'll meet at morning early
And I'll join the bold united men
While soft winds shook the barley

T'was sad, I kissed away her tears
My fond arm 'round her flinging
When a foe, man's shot our ears
From out the wild woods ringing

A bullet pierced my true love's side
In life's young spring so early
And on my breast, in blood she died
While soft winds shook the barley

But blood for blood without remorse
I've ta'en to her hollow
I've lain my true love's clay-like corpse
Where I'll fall soon, must follow

Around her grave I've wandered drear
In night and morning early
With breaking heart when e'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley

Beneath my chamber window
Pierrot was singing, singing;
I heard his lute the whole night thru
      Until the east was red.
Alas, alas Pierrot,
I had no rose for flinging
Save one that drank my tears for dew
      Before its leaves were dead.
I found it in the darkness,
I kissed it once and threw it,
The petals scattered over him,
      His song was turned to joy;
And he will never know—
Alas, the one who knew it!
The rose was plucked when dusk was dim
      Beside a laughing boy.

when i was 15, a boy with a fake tooth and emerald eyes
took me to a steep hill and attempted to throw
me over his shoulder.
the grass was freshly wet, so we slipped and my knees bounced.

a school night, he invited me in his parents car and
we sat side by side in the back.
my throat was full of barbwire and i couldn’t move, my knees
burning, my arms rigid. a boy with subtle eyelashes told me i was cool,
but the barbwire traveled through legs.

we used to watch movies until he got bored and i fell in love
too quickly, shivering between his legs, his fingers
pulsing bruises.

when i was 17 i fell in love with a chain smoker and a man
who couldn’t grow up. except no, it wasn’t love. perhaps pity,
but i liked his large hands and how he had seen the world through
tar tinted glasses.

he told me we had to make love,
and when we finally did a year later, Watchmen in the background,
i felt my skin shredding, my freckles finding new pockets.
my knees were still bruised.

when i was 18 i fell in love with a boy who knew nothing,
except he had a fetish for Asian girls and not being able to
commit.
when he choked me for the first time i thought i died and for a minute
i was so
happy.

for two years he placed circles around my feet, telling me i was
beautiful, but never just beautiful
enough. when i told him to stop yelling, he said i was too
weak.

when i was 21 i fell in love with a boy who didn’t force anything
but love
and understanding. he took his fingers and place heart shaped
bruises, kissing my skin until i burned.

on nights i couldn’t breathe he’d take me to the window
and place his palms upon my cheeks. i found moths within
his hair, and instead of saying don’t cry, he wipe tears away
and hold my hand.

when i was 21 i finally found out that love is meant to spend sunday
mornings making love until your bodies end and begin end
and begin end and begin. and making breakfast is better
with his arms around your
waist.

21 and i am in love with a boy,
22 is around the corner, and i will still be
in
love.