The toxicity of life,
I feel it pulsing through my veigns,
like the venom of a snake,
vision so blured that I cannot see,
work, money, house, family,
whilst life quietly passes by,
tip toeing past like a cat to a bird,
the clock ticks louder everyday,
beating like a drum,
louder and louder in my head,
time to spread these wings and fly.
fly away, soaring to destinations unkown.

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

I thought I knew what love was
should have looked the other way
but how you were under that blood red moon
caught my eyes like this pain never could,
now I stare at that moon
forever wondering if you see it too,
plucking strings on my guitar,
its melancholy tones call out your name,
hope you can hear it and ****** a quiet tear,
knowing that one day, once more,
we will dance to its sad refrain.

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.

I just want to know who I am,
so tired of being in others shoes,
taking on new identities,
barking at imaginary moons,
pulling up the roots of others trees,
am I just an empty vessel,
waiting for the newness of the seasons wine,
I know my soul but it no longer knows me,
maybe its me but I can no longer feel,
am I already dead inside,
feelings I once knew grow more distant everyday,
can some please tell me who I am,
can you show me and take me there,
to the places of green, to find my home,
I am forever dead inside.

What is it that we seek from a woman or a man ?
is it the true reflection of ourselves ?
could it be that we fear what we see alone in the dark ?
or the breath of awakening that floods our lungs ?
we have become weak, shadows afraid of the light
it gnaws at our bones, the burning desires of the soul,
always searching, ignoring what is contained within,
we shun the image that we see in the dark mirror,
we cannot bring ourselves to decipher its shape,
the keys are already hanging around our necks,
yet we fumble, searching for them in others,
trust in the riches that are contained in the chest,
take no thought or yearning for things we do not need,
take comfort from what we are, inside the shell.

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.

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.

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.

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.

© H V Swan

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 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.

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.

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.

Absent from all but the faintest of feelings
again I stare out of a window
its frame imprisons my soul
a fathomless stare into an obscure distance
as if I might somehow occupy that space
old photographs scattered on a table
yet I can no longer see your face
has it really been this long ?
minutes, days, weeks, months and now a year ?
the spirits took your warm embrace
so cold under the ground
know this my sweet sweet thing
the old roots now hold your hands
but you are forever embraced by my spirit
eternally dancing to our sad refrain
under the moonlight in the pouring rain.

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.

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

Ever wonder my dear, why my tears fall down ?
it is because your words created gravity,
a field that pulls me down,
now I am forever bound by its laws,
in this creation I will wait,
the curtains draped like a shroud,
would that the faint glow of a sunlit morn be my release,
raising the corners of my mouth into a smile,
not this day, or the next, for everything is pulled down,
endlessly down by the gravity of your words.

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 .

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.

Where for hides love ?
in the laps of the heinous gods ?
tis there that we seek our solace
in the flames of a feigning sun
as swords we are hewn and refined,
but I stand in the darkest pitch
of a moon ray's shadow
Tempestuous mist over these brown eyes
fumbling in the darkness
to this shambolic refrain.

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 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.

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?

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.

Within this shell I shall hide
safe from all I see outside
the things that cause the soul to weep
by people who blindly follow like sheep
seek the path that no one see's
you'll find your countenance lifts with ease
all the negative thoughts dispel
when I'm hidden within my shell.

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

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

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.

To take a soul as your own,
to catch its breath in your heart,
to feel its warmth in your blood,
holding it as though it were your life,
a delicate flower held in your hands,
it heals all of your sadness,
it feels what you feel and understands,
no words ever needed to be spoken,
silent understanding of all your needs,
shares the vision through your eyes,
feels your breath as if it were its own,
for this soul is yours and yours is mine.

We are such fragile things,
vulnerability exposed over single words,
voices, relentless pounding, mocking, senseless motives,
curling up on the floor, beating at the darkness with clenched fists,
subjectively futile as we grasp at the sunrise of another new day.

© H V Swan

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.

You navigate my soul as a mariner to the waves,
knowing when the storms are on the horizon,
when the winds beat down and tear it asunder
only you can fathom the safety of hidden shores,
at the helm you grasp my hand and steer us to land,
to the warmth of souls entwining and becoming as one,
no sirens here to cast us asunder on the rocks,
only the perfect beauty in the paleness of skin,
the purest pools contained within your eyes,
the softness of whispers within your voice,
soothing all these tempestuous seas,
as the mists of time swirl through this moonlit night,
gathering me in and carrying me forth,
so forever yours shall I remain,
all eternity awaits as we sail this ship afar.

She paces through life like a tiger in a cage,
back and forth, she yearns to be free,
for she knows that freedom has a price,
laments for her soul in the darkest of hours,
yet it drags through the night,
like a bow across strings playing a woeful tune,
bargains with the moon for secrets untold,
for she knows that is her sanctuary,
feelings like salt in an open wound,
longs for the boatmans call .
for she knows that he will take her to shores unknown.

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

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

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.

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

When we view our world through a tear,
it becomes distorted, blurred
and imprisoned within itself,
yet we have only to stretch forth a hand,
to let it permeate the glass-like walls,
allowing us to glimpse beyond its boundaries,
the clear, pure waters that lay on the other side,
regaining our clarity of vision and releasing the soul,
if only for the briefest of moments.

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

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.

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.

Love is like an olympic torch,
it burns continually,
is never extinguished,
kept for the briefest of moments,
then simply passed on,
person to person,
lifetime to lifetime,
generation to generation.

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.

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.

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.

Languishing in a car called desire,
reclining into another lustful thought,
drink the poison and do it clean
for in such things are religions made
or a nation crumbled into to dust

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.

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.

******* 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.