Sitting in a pool of ****,
other peoples ****,
**** all over me,
I am nothing,
just an object,
a still life subject
art school joke,
I'm a mess,
a **** stain,
a fugitive on the run,
running away from life.

Rammed into an ill fitting life
like a cheap suit,
bursting it's seams,
it's ripped open fabric falling to the floor,
like the tears that flow from my eye's.
So here I stand, naked,
no more clothes left on the rail,
no vestiture to hide my shame,
just the coitus interruptus,
as the day slips out of my soul.

Gagged and bound,
gasping for air,
the feel of despair,
a small price to pay,
burning from the inside,
one way ticket, no return,
tears before darkness,
slipped into coma,
asphyxiation, the lovers choice,
soul rising higher and higher,
soaring to a greater height,
kiss the transcending being,
seek no longer to heal,
seek only for resolution.

These last few days have left me fraught,
a plethora of words is what I sought,
but darkest thoughts made me weep,
midnight interludes, trying to sleep,

tried to hide in a box of pills,
buried under a pile of quills,
darkness engulfed my spark of desire,
sat on the top of a funeral pyre.

The film plays through a cigarette haze,
spliced souls flicker on the silver screen,
noir shapes moving through the mist,
dark shadows and beating hearts,

soon the story starts to unfurl,
plots thicken through startled eyes,
rehearsed actions and missing words,
electrification through a Gothic grin,

tears fall on the words of a script
undulations of what we once were,
the movie closes to a final score
torn manifestos as the credits roll.
                    
                       Finis

To want someone who’s never been there,
yearn for their hug in our hour of despair,
to hear their words as a soothing balm,
soft, warm cuddles that keep you calm,

to talk and laugh without a care,
whispers and giggles, secrets to share,
Snuggles in bed on a cold winters night,
drift into sleep in a spoon of delight,

To share a smile in a momentary glance,
hold hands and touch at every chance.
But I sit and write alone in this chair,
thinking of someone who’s never been there.

What of life and all that’s been,
Mine was stolen on a field of green,
For king and country, god and mum,
laid down in the shadows, never saw the sun.
100 years is mine to tell,
no comforting arms for those that fell,
I ask no pity, tears or plea,
Just once on a morn, remember me.

Eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

that do not see.

She made me dance on broken glass
waiting for the coup de grâce
she ran away and kissed a toad,
whilst I got stuck on a yellow brick road
the lion and the tin man started to cry
the scarecrow supped on a bottle of rye
click my heels and reach for the moon
watch her choke on a silver spoon.

We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.

Empty,
no hunger,
depression,
have to eat,
fill the emptiness,
throw up,
eat again,
throw up,
nothing fills,
only the pills.

I can’t sleep,
I can’t drink,
got to see a man tonight,
shivers and shakes,
imaginary snakes,
walls closing in,
heads in a spin,
body in pain,
always the same,  
I've got a need,
a powerful need.

To drift in the wind on the edge of a dream,
chasing our thoughts on the back of a moonbeam,
candyfloss mornings and effervescent nights,
cascading  rainbows in a box of delights,

pretty girl smiles and puppy dog tails,
candy stripe slugs and polka dot snails,
ride the light on a sunlit wave,
into the void of the crystal cave.

I was once like you,
but now I am a here,
I sit and wait for hours and days,
why can’t anyone see me,
they seem to look right through,
I feel no hunger, feel no thirst,
what is this that I have become,
I am like the moon and sun,
caught on a film that always runs,
I am lost forever in this twilight haze,
so many things I do not understand,
I walk around on a busy street,
eyes to eyes that never meet,
that spot on the road looks so familiar,
immense pain it would not wait,
I think this was where I met my fate.

Time cares not for your tears,
nor contemplates the weary years,
it toils with its prey inside its lair,
feasting on our pain and despair,

It cannot sooth a weeping soul,
or spirit dark as blackened coal,
it bares no comforting arms to hold,
just scorns in jest as our life's unfold.

I am made of wood,
I’m never quite understood,
a clockwork spring makes me talk,
pulling my strings makes me walk,

My painted cheeks are rouged with red,
as I slump in silence upon the bed,
no one see’s and no one hears,
my jingle, jangle clockwork tears.

A carpet of grass deft underfoot,
like a huge grey blanket swathing the landscape,
cold and bleak, enticing a quickened pace,
Whistling wind wraps around me like a skeletons arms,
teasing and beguiling me onwards toward a destination unknown,
on its breath ride the whispers of forgotten lost souls.
The moon peers down through a silken scarf of blackened clouds,
Its knowing face smiling sinuously, as if luring ships to the rocks on a tempestuous sea,
from its mouth fall beams of light that illuminate the hills and troughs ahead, like a procession of flickering lanterns on a majestic parade,
Blackened gnarled trees seem to bow in respect as the coldness of the night permeates my core,
their dark shapes appearing on the horizon, like tomb stones in some ancient graveyard.
So among this swathing scene unfolding and with coat collar raised, I merge with the shapes and disappear into the folds of night.

Today a flower unfurls in a distant place,
its fragrance a sweet smelling savor,
its delicate frame echoing lost beauty,
it whispers a name that can never be forgotten.

We are the virus,
The disease ridden art of perfection,
eroded by a cancerous cyst,
turned a whiter shade of pale,
paper thin beauty in a beholders eye,
stifled laughs through blackened lungs,
drip fed tears through a wrinkled skin,
we see our dust start to fall,
prelude turns to interlude,
our truth and destiny,
the moth eaten robes of a transient soul.

Ship ahoy !
she sails into the harbor,
masts glistening in the morning sun,
her decks a wash with the promise of discovery,
her groaning timbers telling tales of forbidden pleasures,
rich is her cargo and she bows under weight of collected treasures,
take me away oh merry band of sailors,
take me to your lands of bounty,
never again to return to these shores.

Cigarettes and alibis,
purple turtles, little white lies,
see you fall on a silver screen,
a living testament of all that’s been,

caught your tears in a bottle of rye,
never ever seen a crocodile cry,
storms a brewing in an old tea cup,
stirred up the leafs, our time is up.

What is it we see and so often despise,
when we view ourselves using only the eyes,
that distorted image inside our head,
the old snakes skin that we’d like to shed,

dare we look from behind the frame,
beyond the self-loathing, repulsion and shame,
our vesture is woven from the beauty inside,
so take on its mantel and wear it with pride.

In front of the mirror doing my hair,
It’s all in the prep work, don’t despair,
Soon be time for the big event,
all this grooming is time well spent,

walk like a robot, keep a straight face,
don’t want a single hair out of place,
grab the phone, yes this is the spot,
set it all up for the perfect shot,

try to look natural, find the right pose,
hide the blemish that’s on my nose,
impossible angles, arm muscles ache,
the phone in my hand is starting to shake,

follow the light, keep stumbling back,
I think I’m having a panic attack,
all this stress is really no fun,
but a click of the button and the deed is done !

Change is the prime motivator,
we always desire it,
we always seek it,
yet it constantly eludes us.

Smiling politely in the local store,
another happy shopper that most would ignore,
but what torrid secrets lay under her grin
the tainted stigma of that hidden sin,

she wraps up her fears with the things that she’s bought,
packed into bags without a thought,
the knots in her stomach drive her insane,
for she knows that tonight there’ll  be anguish and pain,

She drinks her coffee and stares at the clock,
It’s ticking hands seem to laugh and mock,
her doleful eyes are starting to mist,
as she thinks of the bruises made by his fist,

Violently  thrown onto a bed,
pinned down and stifled as if she was dead,
pretends not to feel the hatred and pain,
as her virtue is stolen again and again,

She’s sick of the broken promises and lies,
prays to a God who never replies ,
Its all tucked away where no one can see,
longing for the day that her soul will be free.

We are the ones who walk in the shadows,
hitching a ride on the coat tails of a moonlit night,
always believing yet always casting doubts,
frowns for clowns,
taking the joke an insidious choke,
marching in line to a broken beat,
song remains the same,
dancing insane,
wake up trembling to our new dawn.

****** up,
tuned in,
tripped on the up game,
out on a whim.

Come dance with the devil,
hear his violin call,
the soulful beauty of its music,
calling one and all,

Coiling round your soul,
with his slender, twisting arms,
teasing and beguiling,
singing his woeful psalms,

He’s taking his curtain call,
as you gently start to weep,
waiting for the darkness,
your soul is his to keep.

Lost my way in these salad days,
started to drown in your salad ways,
this distance keeps me from feeling whole,
causing disparity of the soul,

Cordially invited to share my fate,
you didn't show up,  you were fashionably late,
Id packed my burdens in a trunk of desire,
but you stamped on the embers, put out the fire.

And if credence could talk and was given a face,
it would be my companion in this fall from grace,
but for now I’ll just accept my plight,
take a walk in the shadows, avoiding the light.

If I seem a little shaky,
it’s just my nervous twitch,
but I'm starting to see double,
double the trouble,

crawling on my knees,
Trying to find my keys,
Tearing up the carpet,
Chewing it with my teeth,

Laughing hysterically at nothing at all,
hitting my head against the nearest wall,
continuously *******,
I just can’t contain myself at all,

Sitting in the bath fully clothed,
******* over the bathroom floor,
burning my arm with a lighted match,
trying to eat my nicotine patch,

I'm loaded up with pills,
expecting some big thrills,
but I'm left rocking in my chair,
Its just my ******* breakdown, yeah.

I’m in a tunnel,
a carpal tunnel,
a tunnel of pain,
no purple rain,
you thought you looked smart,
in your designer heart ,
that Polystyrene look,
your pretentious Facebook,
but I'll watch you fall,
won’t answer your call,
I'll just hide in my tunnel,
my carpal tunnel.

The sky falls down,
we try to see through the mist,
reaching out in desperation,
we touch the unknown.

Permanently fixed to the rest room wall,
waiting for the golden rain to fall,
oh you've many a tale to tell,
The stains on your sides, the distinctive smell,
That gum in the drain hole, spat out in haste,
The crown and glory ‘mongst the human waste.
All those members, large and small,
have hung over your orifice, you've seen them all,
Your starting to choke on the ***** hair,
While drunk men with whiskey breath,  look down and stare,
no one seems to notice your vitreous gleam,
under the constant haze of the ***** stream,
you just suffer in silence and long for the day,
When you’re no longer needed and they take you away.

Can you catch raindrops in your dark grey suit,
Or smell the freshness of the ripened fruit,
See the glint of daylight through an open door,
Whilst your busy making your plans for war.
Midnight debates as the world fades away,
Death, destruction and urban decay,
But the sun will rise and dance with the moon,
While we watch the dish run away with the spoon.

Jack boots march to the rhythm of our beating hearts,
out stretched arms salute the arrival of loves bitter remnants,
what once was the soul of thriving spirits,
now lays in disintegrating solitude,
sanctuary found in the shadows of a darkened room.

Your ambiguity won’t get you seen,
Us retrospect’s know how to do it clean,
Word men and bird men are exactly the same,
Acting out fantasies and playing the game,

Dichotic words you write of life,
of unrequited love and strife,
from teenage angst to aged woe,
you think your words will steal the show,

Dig a little deeper and you’ll surely see,
your arrogant swagger is not for me,
for I can see from behind your quill,
the Idiosyncratic, tedious swill.

This soul will forever wander,
like the mist around an ancient shipwreck,
seeking a peace that never comes,
drowning in a million tears,
lost in the eternal.

That BBC accent over the air,
a beacon in my hour of despair,
Thames, Dover,  Portland and White,
the warm, soft glow of the radio light,
Shannon, Fastnet, Plymouth,  Biscay,
Soothing my soul ‘til light of day,
Dogga, Fisher and German Bight,
my only comfort throughout the night,
Cromarty, Malin, forth and tyne,
Through static crackle, his voice so fine,
Those childhood days have long since gone,
No big old radio to twist and turn on,
But I’ll always remember, forevermore,
Listening to the shipping forecast on Radio Four.

The alchemist,
See's what others do not see,
Finds peace in the pursuit of their quest,
Endeavors to do what others say cannot be done,
Thinks internally and is not swayed by the views and opinions of others,
Knows that the path is more important than the goal.

As the emptiness cloaks you in robes of loneliness and you sit in the dark, rocking back and forth to the beat of your own heart, its rhythm filling your ears like a distant midnight train clattering over tracks of pain, do you pray to your God ?
Sobbing out tears that shudder through your core as you stare out of the window into some distant world, memories coiling themselves around your soul like the spirit of some ancient snake, is it then that you pray to your God ?

Too late to laugh,
too late to cry,
too late to love,
too late to die.

Those endorphic nights,
wrapped like snakes,
Shared blood in one soul,
we made our promise, carved it in stone,
now it just cuts me down to the bone.

Played our end game, created the path,
‘mongst the spirits, grasping rain,
midnight tears so cold and alone,
It will always cut me down to the bone.


© H V Swan

Walking through autumns tears,
stooping to pick up leaves,
throwing them up in the air,
watching them fall through glinting sunlight,
holding hands, allowing our eyes to meet,
love dwelling within our souls,
no shame felt here,
this our everlasting afternoon,
but then the sky greys over,
everything turns cold,
you were never really there,
gone in a heartbeat.

© H V Swan

Watch him twist, watch him squirm,
Watch him catch the early worm,
See him writhe, see him turn,
He’ll take your soul,
then watch it burn.


© H V Swan

Searching for you but your never around,
looking for release but it's not easily found,
bottles all empty,  I’m running on air,
smoke after smoke, my lungs want to tear,
need some kind of redemption,  it’s time to leave,
make a fresh start some sort of reprieve,
but everywhere I look is just a chapter in a book,
and as each page gets turned another bridge is burned.


© H V Swan

This life, this love, this death,
all have meaning yet all fade into the jaded darkness that lays on the other side of our sunlit morning,
touching the untouchable,
reaching through the veil,  
our dreams carry us forward as if resting on an ancient burial raft,
gently drifting down the stream into a unseen oblivion.


© H V Swan

Why do we feign such rapturous delight,
in pretence to others that all is alright,
what if the soul is quietly suppressed,
cloaked in darkness, hidden and repressed,

Are we ashamed to drape the veil,
to retreat into darkness and embrace the pale,
truth can be found from deep in a frown,
so why wear the clothes and tears of a clown.

© H V Swan

All we could ever hope to have been is uncoiled before us like a python caught in the mid day sun,
laid bare, a naked shame for all to see,
yet in all of this we bask in the warmth of our discovery,
sanctified in our own existence,
parity of the soul and all deeds are done.


© H V Swan

Would that these sounds inside my head stop, for the briefest of moments,
for if it was so that I could just hear your voice one more time,
I would listen like a child in incumbent solitude,  
as if to a mothers soothing voice,  
reading never ending stories,
and if time would hold back these autumn tears,
I would breath again, feeling the cold, crisp air enter my lungs as a soothing balm,
healing my wounds and making me whole.

© H V Swan

The sea calls out her name,
soft whispers hidden in the sound of the waves that gently break against the shore,
holding out my hand I touch the empty air,
it reaches back yet I feel nothing but the cold,
salt filled mist that swirls through my soul.


© H V Swan