Love slithered up my sleeve
like a sun parched python
coiling around my soul
making its home in the sanctuary found within
venemous words spit forth their guile
antitdote saught in nights comforting arms
the moons radiant smile comes forth from a bottle,
stars decadent radiance cascades from a tear,
I'll hide in a sucumbant dream,
on yesterdays and alibis I shall rest this weary head.

Love and hate do they not succle from the same breast ?
are thier ospring not uequivically the same ?
both encircle each other like a dog chasing its tail,
both attract the same emotion,
they are only felt through diferent harmonies.
a soul is a soul,
both weigh the same and measure the same in volume,
it is only their colour that difrenciates one from the other.

Left by the road side of loves great dream,
laying in the ashes and the dirt,
looking for a glint of light,
but the darkness surrounds me,
like a snake waiting to strangle my soul,
bleeding it out in the dead of night
left for dead in the wake of your words
allready building my funeral pyer
its flames calling out my name,
purged from this pain in this hour of need.

How we love to paint with our eyes
pictures distorted with angst reprise
judgement made by a fleeting glance
media sporned advice to make us dance

Peel back the outer layer
as blinded faith to make a prayer
steal yourself an opended view
look within with thoughts anew.

Ever tasted death ?
the ethereal mist of a new dawn,
swirling around your soul,
like a serpent made of tears

Give me some tincture,
save me from this house of fire,
eaten alive by all thats truth,
corked in a bottle filled with lies.

drink the potion.
savour its taste,
exquisit to the last,
the elixir of life,
half a six pence,
a mouth full of rye,
kiss all the big girls,
make them cry,
I'll swap you some ill gotten gains,
take away all of your pains
rancid acid on the buds of your tongue
re write the script,
right all the intangible wrong.

I am such a rediculous being
look in the mirror without even seeing,
a decrepid image is all I can see,
is this thing really me ?
chipped away at all the years,
nothing to show but frozen tears,
how dare I think or even be,
sink back into the hollow me.

A mothers embrace teaches you so many things,
security and protection,
warmth and comfort,
softness and sobriety,
yet among these feelings
comes a sense of strength,
a timeless intuition,
her strength is inherent,
it comes forth from the innermost secrets of nature,
it always felt as though it was limitless,
even now that the hair is grey,
and her beauty long since diminished with age,
I still feel it all.

Here in the darkest recesses of this hallowed ground,
do I sit in my shredded clothes lamenting my soul,
what trickery is this that my spirit should spout forth such a distasteful drone,
welcome one and all says the banner of my grimace,
let me show you some wonders to behold,
such cordial tales in this darkest of catacombs ,
come feast on these bleached bones,
oh retched man am I,
set aside all thoughts for the morrow,
for here is my curtain call,
hanging from the hands of a faceless clock.

There's pleanty of scope I hear people say,
scope for things that could make your day
roll it all out like a giant rug
give your shoulders an expectent shrug
not the time to reflect on the past
those fading memories never last
grasp your dreams by the tail
the futures waiting to set sail.

You say it's just a Jinx ?
the alchemist's last kiss
I'l tell you of a life in vain
struggling in this darkness
life lived in a Pandora's box
opened the lid in this misty haze,
just a jinx I hear you say
but I tried to follow the eternal code
rain down my face
not knowing my place
but in the last of these days
I found the code of my DNA
no more time to smile
pushed to walk the extra mile
now this jinx is my warmest coat
settled in to this dark Catacomb.

When you reach that point
but the point is sharp.

Oh spirit rider where have you been ?
longing for your embrace but never seen,
come ride my soul with consummate ease
tease me with your breath a contagious disease
I long now to feel your immortal embrace
to see the moonlight in your face
the soothing tones of your words
soaring higher than all the birds
take me now to your dark retreat
to stand before the judgement seat,
let me tell of your ethereal tales
how you opened my eyes and removed the scales.

We are such fragile things
inescapable feelings that lock our souls in fire
burning from the inside with the flames of others
liquid thoughts that offer no purge
lucid dreams that remain out of reach
a touch on skin from another who cares
security in a loving embrace
all seems to far away
darkness falls at the end of our day.

Screaming midnight chimes,  
hidden alibis illuminate your crimes,  
ferule moonlit beams of light,  
recoil in the shadows, glowing in white,  
shaking soul in the twilight zone,  
kicking up dust as you run for home,  
emotions take you by the hand,  
scatter away like the desert sand,  
cold trip in a purple haze,
eaten away in the last of these days,
haunted,  we are all haunted,  
ghosts of the past gnaw at our thoughts,  
searching in vane for safer ports .

Tip toeing through the shards of darkness,
ever searching for the surety of solid objects,
creeping souls within decaying bodies,
reality is what we seek in a glimpse of transient sleep,
lies and slumber,
the antiquity of numbers,
naked bones swimming in a sea of obscurity,
nothing really matters
as the last grains of sand trickle through the glass phial,
stone pillows await our weary heads.

We see the bright artificial light,
the plastic, multi coloured packaging,
attraction is the unification of what we crave
and the imprint of past experience,
sipping at love as if to quench an irrepressible thirst
but find our mouths dry and tongue cleaving,
we point the wand at what we desire
yet the real magic lays within our own soul.

Life on the edge,
feel the high but watch it bleed,
wind in the hair its the only way,
deal the cards see them burn,
burning rubber under a waning moon,
reapers breath on their necks,
see them in a neon haze,
their adrenal souls set a blaze,
taken in the blink of an eye,
two more stars in our night sky.

He played a blinder,
left her standing in the pouring rain,
He played it straight,
straight out of a well thumbed book,
He played the fool,
fool always rhymed with cool,
He played into her arms,
arms now cold from the chill of night,
He played it red,
red for the colour of her bed,
He played like he cared,
cared for the notes crumpled in his pocket,
He played his cards,
cards that made her tear her soul,
He plays a song
a song for her departure from this world.

Throw your soul down a wishing well,
so many lies in this kiss and tell,
black moon rising can you see,
only the darkness can set you free,
surrender it all and hear my call,
no one there to catch your fall,
casting shadows on all you hold dear,
look into my eyes and feel the fear.

Miscommunication is the tearful demise,
words unrecognized on a dark sunrise,
knock on the door of a hardened heart,
this unfinished symphony tearing us apart,
both reach out to touch the others soul,
grasp the empty space its secrets stole,
love lays in this old wooden chest,
so blow of the dust at your behest.

touch the steel,
cold, hard and  unforgiving,
like the life I have led,
yet in this moment of quiet contemplation
it seems strangely comforting,
sure and steadfast under my feet,
the sweat and toil of this vast construction,
lives that have given themselves to the quest,
yet I now find myself at one with this web of steel,
my only friend when no one heard my call,
cold, wet steel and the vast dark sky,
to this strange connection I must now say goodbye,
the time has come, my leap of faith.

Once upon his days,
should a man stand tall,
taller and loftier
than the highest of trees,
yet must he cast a wary eye,
for the saw and axe
do look on him to fell.

Shadows and ghosts
they eat at my soul
to old to feel the kick
to young to feel at rest
symmetry in a crooked line
acrid water that turns to wine
a cold patch in a heated room
voices in an empty hall
dark shapes in the corner of an eye
wish I could get some sleep
forever in peace,
in the last of these days.

An ashen face is who I really am
solemnity is the key to my soul
I wear the darkness like an encompassing cloak,
robes of black in the fields of gold,
selling secrets never to be told,
I hear the laughter behind my back
cackling, mocking at my disguise,
but I sing my song, a sedative reprise,
what of you and your sentinel ways ?
you'll never be me in the last of these days.

Within the sanctuary of a warm bed,
listening to the wind and rain outside,
I thought I could hear her voice,
faint and distant, soothing amidst the turmoil,
whispering to my soul,
atonement for the pain inside,
once upon an evening like this,
shall I hearken to her call,
joining her on the other side of the dark,
velvet shrouds of night,
reaching out and making me whole again.

When the heart joins that of another
it does not see the hands of the clock,
neither counts the days or the months,
lost in its search for sanctuary and peace,
the heart only knows where it is meant to be
and where it will forever remain.

This is that
that becomes this
life is full of thats
in a time full of this
read the riddle of that
find all the answers to this
this will then become that.

With a tobacco pouch in hand
one might contemplate a new world order
or maybe a cup of coffee,
life through the haze of a smokers delight
might seem a little contrite
recalled in slumber, passions to ignite.
misty haze to hide the sun,
into the darkness when slumbers run.

To dream of love is to find ones self
lifting pebbles in a field full of rocks
gazing through a mist of souls
searching through moonbeams
hiding in shadows that have never been cast
shining eyes through a blood red haze
drifting through these crystal days
gods that dream in the autumn light
slender arms on a  cold winters night
calm the rhythms of this eternal dance
as hearts take flight in a cerebral trance.

Insidious puppets, dancing on strings,
acting out my favorite things.

Hidden gestures are like a dagger,
concealed beneath the cloak during a dueling feud,
the end result might not be apparent,
however, the revelation of its polished steel,
makes it emphatic.

Rickety old bones,
carrying my frame,
dragging my corpse,
around in the rain,
flickering candles
dance in the dark,
where ghostly whispers
alive you do hark,
through the shadows,
where people do sleep,
pray to your god,
your soul shall he keep.

Music is the catalyst of my soul
takes me away to that other place
girls I once knew,
places that I have seen,
angry exchanges that should not have been,
tears that were shed over things that hurt,
pain that left me face down in the dirt,
loves lost and loves that were found,
contained in these songs with their melancholic sound,
when life leaves it mark and makes me frown,
my eternal friend will never let me down.

Love is like a raindrop,
delicately formed by the vapors of time,
inherently achieving its perfect shape,
before gently falling through the atmosphere of life,
dispersing into oblivion as it hits the ground,
lost forever as though it was never there.

Spinning in circles,
looking up at the rain on this dark autumn night,  
it caresses the contours of my face, like you used to do,  
the memories ***** my brain like a thousand shards of ice,
I was once a believer but all I have left is this torn up soul.
Used up wishes and unlit cigarettes,
staring at the bottom of a thousand coffee cups,  
empty like the promises we once carved on blocks of stone.

Forgiveness is like a pebble,
it skims the surface of a troubled water,
sinks to the bottom of the pool,
then lays dormant and silent,
the trouble and care that went into its selection,
forgotten and unseen.

Gambowling down a flight of stairs,
to the sound of cackling laughter,
why does the mocking bird mock ?
from whence comes this torment ?
it would seem that these bones are meant to be picked at,
all but the the most full of belly will take their share,
I can at least afford an affable smile,
as my folly takes hold,
the years do not quicken or make wise,
all still is as though I may awaken from a dream,
stumbling as it were over leaden feet,
yet do I never learn, nor credence sort,
lessons of life and the laws it creates.

As if obeying an unwritten law of doom,
I slowly raise my head from its stupor,
as if somehow my eyes might meet yours,
the weight of raising it saps all strength,
making weary the bones,
so here I sit in my quilted chair,
reciting dark verse and listening to the single chords
of a disenchanted violin,
trying to fit together the wrong shaped parts
of a cataclysmic jigsaw puzzle,
yearning for the light and shadows of my waning moon
as it drifts across the darkened shape of my window,
the cross shaped frame crucifying my soul,
yet within this sanctuary of mind,
all does seem calm and contented.

Come grab your guitar
we'll sings some songs
like they did back in ''66
words found over a bottle of rye
'bout how the times are a changing
look around and you will see
its time to set ourselves free
your government is in control
while your tied to the progress wheel
round and round and round  it goes
where it all stops only freedom knows
so come on strum those frenetic chords
let the words flow from your heart
grab your life back from the tyrant's hand
rise from this sleep and make a stand.

I see the man who sleeps under the bridge,
he sings my song,  doesn't subscribe to your point of view,
lives between the gaps,  in places you've never seen,
he doesn't see the flag you wave,
nor cares to carry the message it bears
he see's the powers that be watching you fall,
marching to the beat of the new democracy,
freedom from the back of your privilege class,
while we all walk on the broken glass,
he hears the birds sing of a call to arms,
high in the tree's beyond your ivory towers,
through his tears we see it's time for a change,
as the wind blows through your corridors of power,
I'll search for the man who sleeps under the bridge.

Whilst all around, our cares we tend,
a sheaf of corn catches glinting eye,
no yoke to bear, no toil and strife,
a golden prize is there to take,
dark skies above, a listless wind,
two dogs bark with tales to tell,
a distant train pulls iron and steel,
little belly starts to twitch, a yawn, a scratch,
a nose to sniff,
a thousand years is fuel indeed,
for spindle legs to run the course,
over twigs and stones, the gauntlet thrown,
a heavenly morsel to be found,
Through the window a furrowed brow,
sleep must mask the answers sought,
farmer pens his sums with haste,
whilst out in the field the conqueror spoils,
snug and warm, content and fed.

If I was to gaze into those eyes what would I see,
diamonds and jewels glistening in the morning dew,
blazing fire as they gaze into a crimson sky,
the blood red reflections mirroring your burning soul,
in such vitreous pools lay anchored ships of fools,
casting off their chains , setting sail to faraway lands,
ghosts that wander through the shadows,
moonbeams reflecting on a porcelain skin,
beacons through the darkness shining forth on rainbow shores,
there shall I seek my sanctuary until mornings new light.

An argument over nothing,
left vomiting on this humble pie,
why stretch the limbs till they hurt ?
the teacher sets out her books not just to read,
she sets them out to show the promise of discovery,
so I sit in the quietness of empty promises,
wondering if I might even summon tears,
what goes up must inevitably come down,
this I remember through the furrows of my frown.

She came upon a white horse,
through those dark melancholic shadows,
her long black hair glistening under a blood red moon,
the paleness of her skin reflecting its caustic beams,
dazzling, beguiling,  she comes for my soul,
the fire from her eyes burning my core,
searching through the dark folds of night,
she finds me and takes my hand,
it sears, it burns but I must embrace this pain,
pulling me from the darkness of this rancid void,
her great black wings shielding me from the light,
I surrender it all to my angel of the night.

Twisted tales of how you fought a dragon,
silver scales pulsating through your veins,
the beating heart racing through your mind,
its great wings an ice cold wind through your soul,
from its mouth the fire bellows within your skin,
the great roar screams through your spirit ,
writhing, serpentine body wrapping around your limbs,
run it through with your sword of enlightenment,
the clash of steel against its claws of devourment,
its magical, golden blood,  now your bitter nectar,
the battle won through a mortal embrace,
so raise your lance in triumphant accord,
but keep up your shield and remember the pain,
chasing dragons through the mist and the rain.

What if I were to say that beauty in itself does not exist,

how can such diversity be fixed as one representation ?

The flower raises a different image to each eye that beholds it,

The moon a different face to whom it beams down on,

a pretty girls smile has greater value perhaps to its recipient,

a lowly ant at its work, one person's fascination,  another's recoil,

We shun the view of our face in the mirror, whilst others smile at its radiance,

The newly born child, more beautiful to its mother than all the wonders of the world, whilst others may only view a wrinkled, writhing, screaming devil,

So the paradigm is such that we cast not judgement on anyone or anything without first considering the perspective of such questioning.

Sometimes we sit in quiet expectation that the other will speak
only to be greeted by the silence of internal solitude
if we may hear the sound of our own breath
then do we know that life is indeed still in abode
does the other understand our internal rhyme
the words that keep the heart in its beat
the soul drags its bow across the taut strings
a sorrowful malady does spring forth from its tune
would that the other hear this internal melody
then hope might indeed cement over these cracks
scripts are always written at the lovers behest
only to be discarded by its woeful actors
scenes played to no rapturous applause
bows taken in haste with exits gratefully received.

As the tears fall,
I feel no comforting hands to hold,
no arms to embrace,
just the sound of the falling rain,  
it's cold, dark, shades of grey,
echoing the radiance of my soul.

I was opened the wrong way
forced against the natural motion
once carefully constructed and precision made
now laid down and broken asunder
hanging precariously from the frame
waiting to be fixed and aligned
I have become unhinged
everything bent out of shape
delicately balanced and waiting for the fall
won't someone fix these hinges
***** them back into the wall
won't someone hang me straight and true
all the tools are here, it's not hard to do.