So, they took his life,
And what harm did James ever do?
Nothing at all; just a man, a good man,
Doing his job, reporting the truth.
Only some people, murderers, is the correct term,
Dislike that he did not share their beliefs.
Islamic fundamentalists are often that way inclined,
Seeing those who are not like themselves,
As disposable human waste,
So, they took his life.

James Foley R.I.P

© Paul M Chafer 2014

Cruel nuances of misplaced futures,
Arc far beyond time’s twisting fabric,
Spiralling across splitting ends of reality,
Teasing the churning moments that are now.
What will be, will be, shadows within shadows,
Shimmering, through subtle shades of life.
Shifting, fading before finally blossoming.
Then it burns, shakes with unleashed rage;
Whilst on a whim, sharing of a gentle smile,
Glance of a stranger, an inappropriate kiss,
Promises in dreams of unchained desires,
Ride free on dark horses, wind in their hair.
Bodies limned beneath a harvest moon,
Nakedness admired by breathless lust,
Sated innocence writhes, dances as one,
A pleasurable alloy of heart and soul,
Blended within imagination’s crucible,
Cruel nuances of misplaced futures.

© Paul M Chafer 2014

I

The road flies past underneath the tires of the car
and there's a hazy blur as the trees fly by
as fast as the regrets flitting across her mind
like so many white lines falling beneath the left wheels

She's never been to Chicago alone before
Yet she's felt alone in so many places
It was time for a new environment and new faces
and to drink greedily from Illinois skies

She plans to drink more air than alcohol for once
To be drunken in lust or contentment at a push
To feel and experience fully without substance
To be intoxicated on some profound emotion

She pulls up to the curb and kills the engine
so that time ceases to exist
Heart pounding, mouth dry, she steps onto the hot pavement
Every movement magnified in a Midwest summer meeting

Her ankles wobble over 3-inch heels with each step
stumbling like so many times before, but different this time
She takes a deep breath of her new-found independence
and takes the first steps into the welcoming light of the sun

II

It's funny how philosophical eyes can interpret the mundane
Every step an existential crisis under the surface
But even so, the days continue to come and go
as sure as the sun, blocked by clouds occasionally, but still there
like figures in the city, obscured by passing buses
You slash tires and try to blow the clouds away
because even big bad wolves run out of breath

Punk lips in perpetual paralysis,
and they're too afraid to let them kiss.
Too afraid to try to let it last
because of the blurs in their past.

I think the kids are in trouble.
Hanging out with temporary people;
making the wrong times never stop.
Smoking dreams with glass lovers
to indie sonnets and neon power pop.

The world knows they can pretend,
and it's their hearts they can't defend
from the illusion of what they could be,
and the loneliness of what they'll never see.

They skate the pavement until the sun sits,
and drink ***** from water bottles until their hurt slurs.
It's the preparation of tomorrow and what it may not bring
that makes every moment before, everything.

They're scared because it's real,
and I'm scared because they're scared.

I look at the old scars
faded on your wrist now
and I pray you come to realize
you already made it through one time

Now your new scars
the wounds gaping open in your heart
and I pray you choose to believe now
you can make it through this time

A broken heart can heal with time
wounds will close
scars will fade
but memories can be the most painful of all
so you have to choose to push them away

Yet there is a promise to hold on to
that there is Light to see you through the pain
He will not leave you, He will not change
He is here with you
God, He remains

The colours ran psychedelic in the drear night skies
above a ramshackle house on a country lane
He heard music from the open windows
it was meandering and opaque
Myriad drones flew from a cellar door in the backyard
and a burnt out Chevy housed a family of snakes in the front
"Understand that when you enter-"
A voice came haunted, from a tree in the yard
"... that you will be forever changed"
The door fell from it's hinge, and made no sound on the deck
Everyone was ghosts, pale eyes sunken, yet absurdly alive
Preachers and pragmatists drank beers in the bathroom
discussing Plotinus and Pleiades
Rainbow haired women ran through the walls,
wailing some transient ecstasy and crashing to the floor
eating wildflowers and berries
All eyes washed, acid dipped dreams, screams, it seems, that they were all-
"Hello my name is forgotten"
"Hello, I've forgotten your name"
"Goodbye I must be returning home now"
"Goodbye? But you're already there."

The wooden paneled walls started to peel in the August[ine] humidity
but they kept singing love songs in the kitchen
as the toast burned in the sink
Eat more kosher meat, kid
Hi my name is Doner
But what's in a name really
They squat and lunge in harmonic deviancy
Though by the statuesque running man poses, the dance-floors of hydrodynamic and hydroponic release and reconnaissance were blasted by the man of zen, but only in his third eye, the eye that saw it all

The floors started to bleed, some toxic glue
and the shoes of a tribe were lost there, nobody cared
Bloodied scepter of the soul, rapier of wit
Oh how cruel the searing whip of understanding
and falling away from reality with every dip of stick in candy coloured goo

The morning sun also rose, rosy fingered...
It's all been said before
search for answers on the bathroom floor
or muddied ground
or in the sullied unsound

It's far from profound
because when the night was over
The house was nowhere to be found

War is all around, everyday,
Mother’s and children dying,
Yet, ask any politician, any,
They could tell you, instantly,
(No they won’t, not honest enough.)
War is good for lining pockets.

They could also tell you,
If we don't supply arms,
Then someone else will.
(Is this not obvious to all?)
Yeah right, of course, my, my,
How stupid we are; so unseeing.

Truth is, we folk of conscience,
We vote these people into office.
Sure, freedom has to be defended,
Alas, humanity - bah! what humanity?
- has gone way beyond defending,
Into extremes of propagating.

It hurts so much, so very much,
That I have no feasible solution,
I think, you think, we all think,
Yet, we cannot think, or act,
In any possible way,
To halt war!
Sad.

(While reading this, somewhere in the world, no doubt, another innocent has died in a war. Religious zealot’s justification, politician’s justification, perpetrators of organised violence justification, arms dealer’s justification; we have a surplus population. Fine, then cull all those who justify war; problem solved.)

© Paul M Chafer 2014