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.

The cold grey of a January morn,
reflecting my spirit so utterly forlorn.
Was it pain I felt when I watched you leave,
or a chance for freedom and some small reprieve.

Only  Silence remained, as you closed the door,
heard your footsteps fade, like the waves on the shore.
Love never lingered, nor heard my plea,
it could only tear asunder,  in its bid to be free.

Now time owns my soul but you have moved on,
You embrace this new stranger and say he’s the one,
and if ere I wish the clock hands would turn,
to those flames of desire, where our passions did burn.

Now all I claim is this house full of tears,
with its memories and dust marking the years,
and my spirit remains forever bereft ,
of those things that you stole on the day that you left.

© H V Swan

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.

We choose life,
always against the grain,
taken in, savored in the mouth, then spat out with haste,
ill gotten gains, worthy sins,
blessings felt as we puke over a porcelain basin,
we are but dried out clay clinging to the potters hand.

© H V Swan

I see the darkness form,
cloaking everything from within its fold,  
shapeless forms appearing within the void,
unlocked only by dancing moonbeams,
fleeting through an unveiled window,
I hear the blackness call,
luring me into its calm serenity,
soothing my spirit with its words,
draping me with its veil
within it's sanctuary,  
we shall elevate our souls
and rise up from the dead.

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.

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.

Love is so fragile, we entrust it to others to keep within their hands like a small,  delicate bird, so easily crushed if the grip is too strong.

We cannot have the candy
so we ****** it from the hands of a child
sneaking away on the tips of our toes
watching from a distance as she cries a million tears
why must it always be this way
confusing the night with the day
cotton candy dreaming
painting the rain
ashamed of our pain.

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.

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.

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.

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.

As the world puts on its coat
we step into an old photograph
forever frozen in time,
waiting for the bell to chime
looking back as all turns to stone
futures unfold in the blink of an eye
opening gambits and unlit cigarettes
laying alone in the darkness
with only tears and regrets.

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.

Sanity for sanity's sake,
insane for the sane,
sane for the insane.

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.

I've seen you in a thousand lives,
but only your soul ever survives,
I've floated in a million tears,
by your side through all these years,
seen it all unfold and felt all your pain,
heard you whisper in the pouring rain,
I've walked on a million lonely paths,
shared all your smiles and heard your laughs,
ran to your side as the darkness fell,
caught your eyes in a mariners bell,
so will you come and take my hand,
and we'll set sail for a distant land.

No moon tonight,  only the depths of a fathomless darkness, pitched black,
and in such bleak emptiness, the sound of the swirling wind becomes my focus,
whistling through the trees, rattling gates and fences, skimming rooftops,
strange noises as if the nights very teeth were chattering with fright.
Now, the warmth of bed becomes my sanctuary, sheets pulled over a weary head,
yet within such secure confines, the nights rampant breath punctuates my slumber,
sounds of ghostly whispers carried on ethereal waves, names of ones long since departed.  
Sleep eludes the hypnotic lure of the ticking clock, yearning for the distant glow of morns new light.

If you stick a knife through your heart,
be sure to stick it in deep,
through all the years,
through all the tears,
through all your pain,
release the spirit of darkness,
set it free,
let it float through the clouds,
let it kiss the clown.

Those nights with you,
sent the rain away,
would that you were here with me now,
if my tears fell gently into your eyes, would it make you see ?
sold my soul for you so there's nothing left,
now the night cuts me through,
long, lonely hours watching a clock,
its mournful face taking your place,  
under this blood red moon,
I guess love died too soon.

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

Morning tears are the ones that hurt the most,
they linger and distill the freshness of the new day,
eclipsing our view of the sun,
causing disparity of the soul.

© H V Swan

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

locked out,
feeling the heart bleed,
reaching inside
trying to find what was on the outside,
gaping chasms,
its all too late.  
strangulation,
trembling,
blackness,
feel it ease,
too close to the edge,
it was the only way

In the twilight hour, we turn to our dreams.
seeking that which cannot be sought,
secrets behind the moons smile,
stars that whisper of our demise,
floating streams that carry our promises,
warmth on sun drenched sands,
the coldness of a lovers kiss,
cloaks of the dead wrapped around our soul,
in the quiet slumber of sleep,
all means nothing yet illuminates our way,
centurions of the hidden gates,
morning brings us forth to the light.

Tomorrows dreams,
broken seams,
crystal thoughts,
binary noughts,
lust for life,
edge of the knife,
warmth of the soul,
colour of coal,
retreat to within,
wrapped up in tin.

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.

We look on paths yet to be cleared,
yearn for stars as yet unseen,
set sail for unknown destinations,
blind in the vortex of a pitch black night,
souls that wander in darkest shadows,
searching for moons made of stone,
reaching forth through the void,
touching things that can never be seen,
take my hand through this thin veil,
for I will show you what is to become,
tears for the dead in oceans of green,
pleasures that abound in opulent days,
this is my covenant with the lost and found.

The compass set and horizon found,
our journey starts with a bound,
With Sturdy foot and hearty gait,
in haste we race toward our fate,
with silent solace we do decree our constant yearning to be free,
but the watchman’s scythe will cut us down,
before there's chance to claim our crown.

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.

The embrace of snakes,
shamanistic dance,
two souls entwined together,
twin flames reaching forth,
binding the one with the other in cerebral bliss,
this their ritualistic initiation,
into the covenant of the two moons,
where only lovers find eternal sanctuary.

I saw a star who's name was liberty
I saw a sun who's name was truth
I found a soul who's name was love
I found a life who's name was unknown
In the darkest patchwork of night
I found light.

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.

What is it we miss about those who no longer have a voice,
is it the lingering fragrance of softly whispered words,
the security of a heart beat through an ear resting on a chest,
the solidarity of an understood silence,
two souls embraced sharing unwritten secrets,
yet now all is replaced by the empty silence on the dawn of another sleepless night.

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.

We are the vapours in time,
proud, aloof and in our prime,
the transcendence of forgotten youth,
drifting through the parodies of truth,
we collect the black clouds of despair,
wear them as trophies in our hair,
souls amidst the tombs of hope,
woven together like coils of rope,
we dance to an unknown tune,
our redemption is upon us soon,
brother and sister you see it too,
that you are me and I am you.

As harrowing as it might be
go hang your thoughts from a tree
the old gnarled bark remembers well
the days of light as the darkness fell
its twisted roots are buried deep
like comforting arms as we sleep
up above its branches sway
within its shadows we do pray
leaf's like tears fall to the ground
memories of the lost and found
we see it all through crimson skies
the tainted visions and all the lies
but if your soul seeks to be free
go hang it all from a tree.

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.

Dragging around a beaten up soul,
so disfigured I no longer recognise it,
it's me I know it is but I no longer feel,
misaligned with this old body,
praying for the winter rain,
hoping it will ease this pain,
when duty called it could not fight,
lost for ever in the blackest night.

Oh soul of mine to you I look
like the well-thumbed pages of a favourite book
yet you are nowhere to be found
sought your solace on higher ground

left me here so cold and forlorn
drifting in the breeze on this winter’s morn
caught in the tide as you ebb and flow
oh restless soul why did you go ?

think it vain that I wallow in pain
as you catch a ride on the falling rain
no quiet sanctuary for you to hide
oh soul in me forever abide.

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

love once roamed freely within this hollow room,
now these walls confine me,
like an ancient, lost tomb,
tears flow, like blackened rain,
spirit in turmoil, head hung in shame.
I watch my breath through the stale, thin air,
as the ropes shadow beckons,
upon the cold wooden chair.

© H V Swan

These tears must fall,
rain onto my pillow,
a lost sunset of a risen sun,
holding onto memories,
like they were a lifeless body,
distant horizons,
grey skies above,
staring into its abyss,
sleep will fall,
the emptiness of dreams therein.

Of all the fates in life we fear,
might be the loss of one so dear,
but what of life that causes strife,
and pain in which there seems no gain.
What can soothe the sorrowed soul,
or spirit dark as gathered coal,
bereaved are we who cannot see,
that at last in death we are truly free.

© H V Swan