If I held out my hand
would you take it ?
it's warmth ready to permeate your soul
but what would it tell you of me ?
the scar on my finger
the wrinkling skin
the crooked pinkie
the gnarl on my thumb
stories to be told
if you would only take hold.

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.

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 !

Eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

within eyes

that do not see.

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

shout at the TV
shout at the cat
shout at your wife
shout at the noise outside
shout at yourself in the mirror
shout at your life
shout it all to rights
three minute man
watch the door slam.

******* reminds me I have soul
perhaps you find the subject rather droll
relief and release is the hedonist key
seeking one's own pleasure will set you free,
opening that box of supreme delights
takes me to such lofty heights
again and again I seek its embrace
an immortal drug the adrenaline race
please do not sit and condemn me with woe
when release from this pain simply makes it so.

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.

The great bird is conceived in a glistening eye
a mythical wonder waiting to be formed
coiled in patience under palest skin
waiting to unfurl its majestic wings
a cold steel blade unlocks its cage
blood must flow to bring it life
its freedom found in fragmented bone
the bars that block its sight are pulled back
hands reach into the great cavern
grasping the wings to set them free
at last in splendour and magnificent awe
the blood eagle is seen to take flight and soar

If only you knew the damage caused
a few small words said and forgotten
days and hours of painful analysing
awake late at night, cold sweat haze
reliving, re-enacting, in my mind
caught in a time trap, held on repeat
left on my own, locked in this hurt
I hear my voice repeat as I cry
eternally asking the question, why?

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.

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.

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

We throw lies into lives

like pebbles in a pool

watching the ripples disturb the calmness

then cascade off into the distance

In her closet next to a shirt
hangs a concertina pleated skirt
she slips it on with grace and ease
the tiny pleats are there to please
like a million shimmering crystal shards
all tightly pressed like a pack of cards
as she moves they sway and dance
upon her legs they tickle and prance
the feeling makes her smile and shiver
which makes the pleats start to quiver
they skim and flatter her  hips and ***
like the majestic rays of a rising sun
such carnal delights found in a skirt
as she hangs it back next to the shirt.

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 .

Riding on the back of a super nova
into your blackhole of paradise
a ticket to Mars with Jupiter rising
Saturns rings engulf me into a star lit abyss
orbiting Uranus in a stellar galactic trist
my rocket ship glows in unquenchable fire
riding to Andromeda on the back of ecstatic bliss
exploding in a meteor shower, sealed with a kiss.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

City slickers born to tumble
will never make your mountain rumble,
take me to the parts that matter
in amongst the titter tatter
the coffee table ilks and dramas
cotton caftans and silk pyjamas
humming cars that cough and splutter
silver coins lost in the gutter
tabloid men in sharp pressed suits
trample down the fallen fruits
nothing sacred in this old town
except a peptic ulcer and a furrowed 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.

The milk of human kindness,
a bitter tincture to swallow,
hold the nose, sip it down,
malaise caught in a furrowed frown,

never to bite the hand that feeds,
just gnaw at the skin until it bleeds
the masters table has room for all,
fain take our fill from the crumbs that fall.

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.

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

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.

Soul dressed up in a devil suit,
ate too much of the forbidden fruit,
painful tears from eyes too dry,
seek my solace in a bottle of rye

aint no use in praying for rain
when all you get is a fist full of pain
hitch a ride and run for the hills
safety found in a bottle of pills

Reality flashbacks
life spinning on a dime
open the doors of perception
let's commit a crime

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.

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.

If I cried you a tear,
would you watch it fall,
would it write your name
in hews of black,
black like my heart since the day I left,
for we destroyed those rocks of old,
where we carved our vows in letters so bold,
such precious things have we let go,
into the realms of the waters so deep,
lost in the tides of the tears I weep,
your heart I hold in these withered hands,
fragile, protected and safe in their grasp,
for you my love I shall forever remain
locked in the sound of this sad refrain.

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

Tempestuous sky's so cold and dark,
where no bird flies save lonely lark,
'mongst the shadows, where coldness spreads,
stand sepia shapes of wooden sheds.

Oh whispering wind, what can you tell
of a life of terror and tormented hell
or torrid groans of sleepless souls
under public signs, nailed to poles.

Breath stained glass surrounds a child's shoe
an exhibit in a holocaust zoo.
Silenced bones can speak no guile
'mongst blackened ruins of brick and tile.

These broken spirits now must yield
to unmarked graves in an open field,
''O death where is thy sting ?''
'tis in the voice of these who cannot sing
and when we remember alone in the dark,
think of this place and the lonely lark.

© H V Swan

On crimson tides we ebb and flow
no technicolor dreams to show
the darkness falls at our behest
as from our hands the senses wrest

take the tincture to ease the pain
release the heart from this dark refrain
shadows revoke our light of day
to incumbent solace we must sway

The wind carries secrets,
crashing waves on rooftop shores,
whistling through the bones of trees,
carrying whispers of sleepless souls,
lost lovers names as whispers in the night,
swirling shadows of bending boughs,
knocks and rattles, tumbling shakes,
angry breaths on the eve of morn,
soothing sighs carried in from dark,
rustling leaf's do a dance of delight,
carried forth to slumbering rest,
so listen carefully my friends,
to the secrets in the hearts it tends.

We are buried under the sand.
for us, no sun-kissed June day,
no moistness of a morning dew,
no soothing waves between our toes,
no jubilant trumpet to herald our return,
no voice to cheer freedoms new dawn,
we are forever buried under the sand.

© 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

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.

Ever seen the darkness shake ?
like the serpentine spine of a blood red snake
vibrations sent to the core of your soul,
burning your mind like simmering coal,
clamber for the light in your claustrophobic space
the demons in the shadows know your face
the tears wont fall just stay in your eyes
whilst all around you everything dies
dance the macabre its the only way
whirling dervish no time to pray
the ancient rhythms too much to resist
it eats you away like a cancerous cyst.

What of life ?  
it surrounds us like a magicians cloak,
deception,
slight of hand,
cut the deck,
pick a card,  
confusion,
the illusion is complete.


© H V Swan

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.

Oh fly, fly, where have you been ?
a freshly laid dog **** or some moldy old cream ?,
buzzing this way and spluttering that,
spiraling angrily on to the cat,
bang into the wall then on to the floor,
like a mad game of pinball with a very high score.
Where next, my fluffy black friend,
a  slam of a book and I'm afraid its the end !

© H V Swan

You violate me with your delicious tenture,
licking my soul with your words,
making my skin tingle with the anticipation of your thoughts,  
******* me with your mind,  
twisted obscurity in an ******* delight,  
the cardinal remnants left trickling down my legs
breathing obscenities in a heterophonic haze

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.

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.