Taking to the marshes
Holding my Brueghel
Book
His pictures show
Cruelty and indifference
I love him for that
For in cruelty is all
That goodness intended,
Gone bad
Just like a Chardin Apple
So in the painting
‘The fall of Icarus’,
Where all around there is
Indifference
We know
That this may have been us
Or may happen to us
When no one looked or cared.

And in ‘Hunters in the snow’,
The cart ran over
The girl went hungry
While others fun themselves
Ate and made merry
Others died from want.

In the marshes
They found him
Swept up from
The sea.


Love Mary xxx2018 december

oh, oh,
you,
you made flowers grow in my lungs
-sweetheart, they’re so lovely,
but i cannot breathe.

ruby shards pierce my ears,
clear as glass, sharp as blades,
and you,
oh you,
are oceans away.

empty mornings,
late night smokes
-who i am i kidding
all i do is watch the clouds,
while you,
you,
are adrift.

i got the good side of things,
let your own heart bleed gold,
as i left in a tornado
of roses intertwined with a
soft musical song.

Come morning
their innocent eyes would ask
the most difficult of questions.

My heart would stall.
My tongue would stiffen.

And my eyes would answer back
with tears.

your name on my lips,
a whisper in the night
-ten thousand enunciations,
do you even know my name?
what’s my name?

they fall like rain
white and pink and red and blue,
fluttering wings, little butterflies
you call them pretty,
as they cascade to the floor,
little whirlwinds,
tiny storms.

roses, roses,
they all fall down,
pick up my petals
i’ll be ashes in the ground.

in my dreams,
you twirl me around,
soft hands in my hair,
eyes on mine,
golden mornings and moonlit nights.

each morning, morning i wake in your arms,
every night we’re under the garden’s bridges,
a soft waltz,
for softer caresses,
and yet the petals fall all around.

roses, roses,
they all fall down,
pick up my petals
i’ll be ashes in the ground.

i don’t dream anymore,
all my days i lay in the sunlight
-dreams of mornings fill my head,
as i grasp rose petals,
strewn like dreams all around.

summer turns to winter,
spring won’t come for me,
the last spring i’ll ever know,
there are rose petals on top of me and i’m six feet below.  

roses, roses,
they all fell down,
you didn’t pick up my petals
so now i’m ashes in the ground.