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723 · Apr 2015
Clouds of Silver
MV Blake Apr 2015
It's been so long since I spoke to you
And touched your side, a gentle tease.
Too long since we danced in sync
And moved beneath that gentle fleece.
Consider this, my almost love,
While we move along our separate lanes;
The world turns, the rivers flow,
The mountians climb, despite the pains.

Now I'm held beneath the moon,
I dance upon a field of green,
I found my love who loves me true,
A gentle love, my life long queen.
I'm sorry for the time I lost,
Wasting time in others arms.
With these words I banish you
And embrace my gentle lover's charms.
722 · Feb 2015
Apathy for the Distopian
MV Blake Feb 2015
A badge without condition bought cheap, from a thrift store
Lies with brass medals and plastic ribbon, from uncaring hands.

A paid add on the paper floor, claps on the back from glad-hands,
Claps for marrying poor, she’s worth it, all her rotten core.

You walk with conceit, when the army stamped it’s boot,
A doctor’s note, before the sarge could break your seat.

Readies from your parent’s purse, a hand-out on the brew.
You queue for ****** on the roads in a pimped-out hearse.

Slurred words drawl from the dark, blood spit on the street,
Fistfights punctuate grammar like an exclamation mark.

You clone another you, spat from the womb cold;
A mother’s love wrapped in smoke of cozened blue.

There is no end to your ambition.
720 · Mar 2015
Garden Parade
MV Blake Mar 2015
Fluttering weakly in the breeze

Left in the wake of the train's passing,

George's proud flag hung limp

From the pole,

Weathered and worn,

Like a tired old soul.


It's procurement no doubt,

was a misplaced, ill-thought out

statement of pride,

A belligerent shout

At the fresh-off-the-boat,

Here for the so-called ride.


The flag was once clear,

But Britannia's grey skies had

Poured down their drink,

Washing the colours,

Calming the passion,

From red into pink.


The train swept past,

It's multicultural seats

Brimming in rainbow hues,

As the punters sped

To the proud parade

Of the minority few.


They saluted the flag,

Laughter from lipstick,

Teasing it's impotence,

As the hated flag

Unexpectedly praised

Their innocence.


The train traveled on,

Past gardens like embassy roofs,

Displaying flags in retort;

Their bright bold colours

From every shore

Joined in support.


No tears for poor George,

Confused in his ways,

Run up a flagpole to fall and decay.

So sad to see, thought Union Jack,

As he flew with his friends

And waved at the track.
717 · Apr 2015
Between the sheets
MV Blake Apr 2015
In that moment
Between wake and sleep,
Where the mind slips
In between the sheets,
I find you there
Next to me.

My gentle hug,
My warm body,
My perfect love,
My ecstasy.
715 · Apr 2015
A Childish Wish
MV Blake Apr 2015
Born ****** and confused,
Cradled near our mother, fused
By cords of love to replace
The cords the midwife cut.
Growing curious with the years,
We stumble, fall, and scream; tears
Of rage our parents see
As rage of vitriolic ease.
Bony pains in skin too thin
For our shuddered growth; our skin
Elastic tortured thus
Erupts in meteoric fuss.
Hormonal sin of endless flesh
Writhes wicked, silken; her dress
A gauzy show of mental glimpses,
Caught in thought, like kisses.
We reach an end to just begin,
The wall they built was far too thin
To stop us in our desperate race
To join the rats within their chase.
Now we're there, we would return
To wicked thoughts, how they burn,
But less than pain that we now feel
As adults in our ordeal.
683 · Mar 2015
Bilious
MV Blake Mar 2015
The warm cocoon breaks,

Spilling a tired body onto the floor.

Panicked, I hurtle to the door.

I kneel before my God

And spill my prayer of meat

On feet, body, crown and seat.

Clutching my saviour,

I draw a ragged breath,

Pleading, demanding for death.

The storm abates its tired refrain.

I rest my head against the wall.

I'm sure I swear "never again",

And back to sleep I fall.
682 · May 2015
The Alexandrine Technique
MV Blake May 2015
The migraine calls like God; thunder over mountain
Rolling deep dark echoes, and shaking up the ice
To fall like sharp daggers, dropping points on my eye.
I fall hard to my knees, and pray to stop the pain.

All other thoughts eclipsed, as pain becomes like suns
Exploding in my head, burning through my brain
To leave a charred vessel, too fragile to even move
As ash becomes my skin, and stardust is my lungs.

I practise ritual, I pray so hard it hurts,
I try to straighten form, and breathe in gentle rolls,
Call on Alexander, and all my other roles
That work sporadically; they sometimes just desert.

Destructive forces leer, like imps upon a ledge;
They're grinning ear to ear, as I consider death
To free me from this pain. They know that I can't last
A moment more than this; I'm on the razor's edge.

I feel their fingers close, squeeze my protesting throat;
I grit my teeth and scream, forcing air into my lungs.
And as the pain recedes, I see them standing there,
Patient in their defeat, they leave a passing note:

You can think that we've gone, but it's just a gap in time.
The prayers will come and go, but we are always here,
So smile and take a breath, and master all your fears
Before we gather strength, and strike when you are fine.
A 24 line poem written in alexandrine form, playing on the popular Alexander technique for migraine treatment.
638 · Apr 2015
The Masks of Me
MV Blake Apr 2015
I smile and shake hands, it’s not so bad,
Just pull a bit here and stretch a bit there,
But as the small talk starts my muscles ache
And I go quite quiet beneath their stare.

I pull my mask off with relief
To feel the solid mask beneath.

The talk goes on and I don’t mind,
This face is far more stronger in design.
Even still, as time goes on,
The mask slips slightly; a clear sign.

I pull my mask off with relief
To feel the solid mask beneath.

This one’s better, and made of will,
Built of fears and childish names,
But also sadness, anger, hate,
And all the ways they are to blame.

I pull my mask off with relief
To feel the solid mask beneath.

I’m running low on faces now
And the others start to pick it up,
Gently, slowly, the chatter halts
And people drink from wary cups.

The silence in a room of noise
Tells me that’s my cue to go.
The faces that I brought with me
Are packed up for another show.
As I grow old, they age with me,
Some thicker skinned as time goes by.
Others shatter with a blow,
And one is my face, by-the-by.
575 · Apr 2015
Supposing Dreams
MV Blake Apr 2015
A whisper in the woods
Spins our heads in a vortex
Of fear and wonder
As our courage is vexed.
A dream of a future
Shapes our thoughts
With expectations
Of a life unfought.
A shiver of discomfort
Down our spine
As we meet the one.
It must be a sign.
A whisper is wind in the leaves,
A tumult of fear not to be believed.
Dreams are just that,
And our future needs work
So pull up your sleeves.
That shiver you felt
Was the cold, not the deed,
And if he was the one,
Then what about me?
Grow up from your dreams;
They aren’t what they seem.
560 · May 2015
What I know now
MV Blake May 2015
I hate the summer mornings,
And walking on a path.
I hate the silent mourning
For strangers as they pass.
I hate the way that I look down
When a stranger walks past me.
I hate the way they do the same
As if there's nothing there to see.

To turn back time is pointless,
As I'd do it all again.
For I'll never know what I know now
And I know I didn't then.
The mistakes we make when we are young
We can't go back and change,
And I'm sure I'll find my early self
Just as willing to exchange.

The time for making friends has gone
And I didn't have the tools
To make good friends with anyone
When I thought they're all such fools.
But now I know that I was wrong,
I'm a bigger fool than they;
For I'm alone and work so hard
While all they do is play.

It's true to say as we grow old
We care less what others think,
But it's also true what they all say
That as we age we shrink.
Our lives become so small outside
That there's little room to breathe,
And maybe that's why I just sigh
When someone wants to leave.

It's sad to think that I thought this
And know what I know now.
That all it took was someone else
To ignore what I allow,
And step inside my silent halls,
Open curtains on the day,
And love and laugh and dance with me
And teach me how to play.
A love poem of sorts
548 · Mar 2015
Live to Work
MV Blake Mar 2015
'Not like that, like this,' said the small man,

Rapping his knuckles on my day.

I withhold, and sit back, watching.

He stumbles from one page to the next,

Unsure of his next move.

His veins flex.

I say nothing.

There is nothing to say.


'I lead, you follow,' said the small man,

In denial of the fact that he is more lost than I.

I demur, and sit back, watching,

As he trips over his lapdogs to find his feet.

He doesn't feel their bite,

But takes time to tip them with a treat.

I say nothing.

There is nothing to say.


'We work to live,' said the small man,

Lying to himself while he rows upstream.

I shrug, and sit back, watching.

As he loses his stroke, the doctors gather

With knives in hand for the feast.

Exit cadaver.

I say nothing.

There is nothing to say.

____

Comments welcome
543 · Mar 2015
The Golden Fleece
MV Blake Mar 2015
Legs like lead,

We trudge through Monday’s trenches,

Carrying a pack

I’m sure weighs too much.

We shoulder the weight

And push forward onto Tuesday,

Gritting our teeth,

Feet sore to the touch.

On Wednesday,

The time falls like shells,

Carrying payloads

That detonate hour by hour,

Until Thursday,

When the guns are spent,

Cooling their muzzles

As they nurse their power.

Friday comes round,

And finds us alive in the trench,

And we’re ordered home

To replenish in peace.

Of this war we keep fighting

We prepare in retreat;

The glorious charge

For the generals gold fleece.
540 · Apr 2015
Blindfold Destiny
MV Blake Apr 2015
Planning a future
Into the early hours,
Deliberating each step,
Considering the flaws.

Should it be this,
Or maybe it’s that?
We dare not go wrong;
It’s no longer a game
We play in the night
As we hug tight to sleep
Dreaming of us
In sleep’s darkest deep.

Seeing a future
In the midst of a dream
Is like seeing rows of
endless open doors.

Left or right?
Which one to choose?
They all look the same.
535 · Feb 2015
Dark of the Day
MV Blake Feb 2015
Sunlit rays slant through
Like traces in the dark,
Incandescent beams
Flinging dust motes and dreams
Into sharp relief.

Eyelids crawl open
To a dim shelter
Of duvae red, faded.

A peek over the edge
Sets the stomach a'quiver,
An urge to leap fought off
By fatigue; you stay in camp
And slowly stretch your muscles.

An electronic foghorn
Signals your doom.
An avalanche of cotton,
And your back protests
At the sudden weight.

The tether snaps
And you fall
Into the dark of the day.
516 · Apr 2015
A Gift of Earth
MV Blake Apr 2015
I have a gift for you my love,
I’ve wrapped it in ribbons of clouds.
I’ve boxed it in earth
And wood,
And rock,
And to take it would make me proud.

It’s really quite neat,
It comes with a treat,
There’s plenty to do and see.
There’s mountains to climb,
And rivers to swim,
And animals come a-plenty.

What’s that we’ve got here?
Back here? No, there;
A ****** let loose again.
He’ll **** some more,
One, two, three, four,
As he feeds from innocent pain.

Don’t focus on him,
It’s not that often.
Most of them are quite nice.
They’ll look after their pets
And pay for the vets
And make sure they’re clean of lice.

What’s that you say?
They call that money
And it makes the world go round.
They’ll lie, cheat, and ****
With a malevolent will
To bury it in the ground.

Maybe not that,
Then how about this?
They pray to God above.
They made a religion
From bits of tradition
And an inalienable need for love.

I thought you’d like that,
It’s right up your street.
Communities bonding together.
Well at least for a hour
Before that all goes sour,
And God is blamed for the weather.

Oh I know what you’re saying,
That’s music they’re playing.
It’s supposed to set them free.
But what they don’t know
Or won’t care to show,
Is it’s another monetary plea.

What have we got now?
Let’s shake it about.
Oh look, a war for free.
There’s millions dying
And politicians are lying
If you look a little closely.

Now don’t be like that,
It’s not all that bad.
There’s ingenuity.
Now see how they fight,
It’s for oil at night,
Electricity doesn’t come free.

What? You don’t want my gift?
Is there something wrong with it?
I’ll chuck in pollution as well.
Well, if it’s not for your taste,
And you think it’s a waste,
I’ll re-market and label it Hell.
500 · Mar 2015
The Wood for the Trees
MV Blake Mar 2015
We touch the bark, blessed in ignorant knowledge

That what we feel is the extent of reality.

The learned man nods, trapped in his own hubris

As he opines from on top of the tree in the valley,

Declaring there is nothing beyond the forest;

All he can see are trees as far as the eye can see.


We scuttle across the ground, looking up in awe

As the wise man is joined by another.

They nod to each other, trapped in their hubris

As one, each man sharing his small secrets.

They climb higher up the tree, quick to point out

That of the forest there is no end to guess.


Satisfied at last, they climb down to our questions,

And patiently answer, without hesitation:

There is only the woods of the forest you see,

We've seen it all, we demand you believe.

Don't look at the edge, there's nothing for you,

Just tree upon tree, we've seen it, it's true.


Downcast,

We scuttle away,

Our tails tucked between our legs.

We think some more and go back to them

Who, being learned, are known as wise men.

It mustn't be true, we're sure you're mistaken,

It can't be just trees...


We plead for some sign, and without hesitation,

They growl and declare with words we're forsaken.

We're driven away to a home far from home

And left to die in the woods all alone.


We pick up children and wander away,

Cursed to walk through the forest and cry.

We wander for years, heading due North

And the forest, it slowly changed as we walked.

The trees, once so dense, revealed fields of grass,

And rivers, hills, mountains and sky.


Oh the sky, what wondrous vision is this?

So wide and filled with lights, what bliss!

We've only seen the branches of trees above.

We must tell the others, I'm sure they don't know.

We choose to return on the path we can't miss.

We turn back our steps, heedless to peril.


They greet us with spears and declare us begone.

We try to tell them, but they will not listen,

They scream forsaken and call us the devil.

We demand they look up to the sky up above,

But the wise men, trapped in their hubris,

Fling words like arrows, too many to count,

And we sadly retreat to hope the others get out.


The wise man watch us turn back our steps

And declare in a rush that those who repent

Can come back to the woods

Where's there's nothing but trees

And the lies that we've said?

Well, they were never meant.


Some others turn back and scuttle away,

We watch sadly as their backs turn south.

Unsure, I look up, and the branches cover me,

Green upon green, tree after tree.

But just there, flashing between leaves

Shines the sky and the stars and

I'd rather be free.
492 · Apr 2015
Moonlight Requiem
MV Blake Apr 2015
The woods were bright that night

As I walked amongst the dead

Trees and stepped through moonlight.

She smiled in the shadows

A partial moon

But bright in the dark,

A lantern of hope,

A light to mark.

I stepped through the gloom

And pulled her near,

Her curves defined

In bright silver.

She felt so soft,

I was decieved.

Her skin was cold,

My soul was cleaved.

Now I wander the woods at night

In search of my soul

In the deep moonlight.
440 · Apr 2015
Argus in Mirrors
MV Blake Apr 2015
Your thoughts fly like splinters of glass
From the mirror you smashed on my face.
I glare at all of you
Under the dim light,
Wishing you were someone else.

You all wink at me as you extract a piece
Of silvered glass from my bloodied skin.
You blink for a moment,
A thousand-fold,
Then show me your teeth,
Gums bloodied and sore from the strike.

I soak a warm cloth in ice cold water
And dab the blood from your chin.
You all wince and curse at my touch,
But allow me to remove but a trace.
Despite all the pain and hurt you've done,
I would do this for no-one else.

We're in it together,
My shattered self and I,
Though God knows we cannot win.
427 · Apr 2015
The Poetic Bitch
MV Blake Apr 2015
That's no good, said Miss pointedly,
As my poetic dart hit a wall
Made of contempt and frustration,
All hers, not really mine at all.

Where’s the structure, the rhythm?
Why there’s nothing at all,
Just a jumble of ink smudged words
You may as well scrunch in a ball.

I sat patiently and weathered this storm,
As her wind rattled windows inside my hall.

Are you listening Blake?
No, not at all.
Though perhaps just a bit,
Enough to recall,
Eighteen years later,
Long after your fall.

Perhaps you were right, and I was too young,
To see quite how bad my poetry was penned
On ink spotted pages in tea stains of angst,
The rules being lost as I twist them and bend.

So this is to you, my old English witch,
Who cursed my work with dismal dismay.
Maybe I learned a little bit more
Than you thought I did that day.
Or not.  It doesn't really matter what she thought anymore.  The joys of growing up.
409 · Mar 2015
12 Days
MV Blake Mar 2015
As his feet step from the door,

His pace begins to stretch

From distance to time;

Each planted foot an hour

I don't get to see.


As his heel strikes the floor,

My brain begins the clock

From now until then;

Each hour a lifetime

I don't get to have.


Maybe just a little more;

Is that my avarice again?

Endlessly grasping

For my smaller hand

To spin back to a time

I don't get to keep.


It's not for keeping score;

Though at the start...

No matter,

That time has gone;

Poignant regrets

I don't get to think.


The years become a war

Between now and then,

Image and reality,

A mountain from a pebble

I don't get to miss.


How time flies.


As I close the door,

I lock away my thoughts;

Tuck them away

For twelve long days

Until the doorbell rings,

And there he is;

My son I get to have.
405 · Mar 2015
A Poem for my Muse...
MV Blake Mar 2015
How do I say I love you?

How do I write it?

The words to stand so tall.

Tell me, love, the words,

So I can write it all.

To try, I’d come undone;

If you asked for light,

I would burn

To hold the Sun.
389 · Feb 2015
A Conversation
MV Blake Feb 2015
Stay awake my precious,
Stay with me some more.
Grasp my hand, my love,
And hold me to your core.

I am here, my darling,
I am just right here.
When you fall asleep, my love,
I'll stay with you, my dear.

Your eyes are growing tired,
My soul is held in pause.
If you go to sleep, my star,
I will lose my source.

Courage, love, and faith, my dear.
I haven't gone away.
I shut my eyes to dry my tears
So you don't have to pray.

I'm scared, my joy, for what comes next.
Is it dark, you think?

No way.
I picture fields of endless stars
And you brighter than the day.

Hold me, I feel I'm slipping fast away.

I'll never let you go, my love,
Sleep, there, it's not so bad.
I'll be with you shortly,
Don't worry, don't be sad.

— The End —