A short stroll up a lonely lane
Wild flowers filling the hedges,
Romancing our eyes
And flirting with our noses.
Inquisitive cows
Leaning over rickety gates
To better inspect us interlopers.
A broken path,
Crevices straining to trip us up.
A five minute dander for us.
A dangerous adventure in unexplored territories for them.

She blooms like a rose
Being choked by noxious weeds.
She will survive this

Scars carved on skin and souls
Remind us we've survived

You interrupted my dreams
To bring an even sweeter reality

Shimmering nightly
Like an eternal beacon
Of something greater

Weak light filtering in
Like day old dishwater.
Hands fumble
As sleep crusted eyes
Fight the weight of recent dreams
To struggle awake.
A familiar staircase
Like a ****** terrain,
A precarious precipice.
And feet still
Slumbering in a distant place.
False light
Floods the senses,
Bringing fresh waves of pain
And Little birds chirp
Making a mockery of exhaustion.
Little birds chirping
Before morning coffee,
Suicide project

There's a moment
Just before waking
When silver and orange glows
Mix on an unearthly pallate
When hearts are still in dreams
And early birds play
Background music.
In this moment you reach for me
Before your eyes
Can even check I'm there
And I know in that moment
I was in your dream
That moment is bliss

Coiled tightly, a spring
Loaded with thoughts.
Pinballs endlessly searching
For a top score.
Ricocheting in the brain
Like a flexible bullet,
Wreaking havoc without
The final word.
A blossoming idea
And a pen without ink.
The lethal archer
With a crooked arrow.
Never hitting the target.

The beginning and ending
May already have been written,
But the chapters in-between
Are mine to write.
I will make mistakes
That cannot be erased
And my pen will falter
But never fall.
I will not always like
To read them back,
But the chapters
Are mine to write.

The broken pieces
Of the beautiful picture
Lay scattered around,
Fragments of history
Waiting to draw blood.
They were put back together
Over time immeasurable
And with a pain unmatched.
The scene was
Undoubtedly altered,
But the picture was
No less beautiful.
And those who had
Never seen it before,
Would never know the difference.

My life is a book
But I don't know how to class it.
Horror?
Thriller?
Romance?
Each chapter brings something new,
Not necessarily good
But something new.
I couldn't have guessed
The twists and plots
And how things would end up
For the main characters.
All I know is I can't put the book down,
Even when the reading is painful

She was the perfect hostess
With a beatific smile
Even white teeth
And deep-set dimples.
She walked through her guests
Encouraging merriment
As she held her
Ever-present bottle
Until one day
The bottle held her.
And the guests all left.
And merriment ceased.
And her smile died first.

Do you ever think
that these wittering words of wisdom
spat out, sang out,
by poets lurking in shadows
will stay hidden among the cobwebs
of a like-spirited mind.
No great explorer
with triumphant cries
to carry these forgotten words
into the light
like a treasure long lost.
A diamond brightened
by the passing of time.
Shyness
You have my eyes.

Hopes, dreams
And any thought
Of a future,
Cast by the side
Of the road,
Among broken bones
That never learnt
To dance
Or kiss
Or love
Or lose,
The way we've
Suddenly,
Brutally,
Learnt.
A small broken body
Breeding broken
Hearts.

In my dreams you came,
as if you had never gone,
carrying branches
with buds still closed.
Paralysed
with awe
I could not stop you leaving.
I woke.
Shaken to the core.
I could not stop you leaving.

And the tap drips on.
Will it scorch or soothe?
Will it gush like a waterfall?
Or trickle like a stream?
This thirst quenching giver of life.
Will you drink from it?
Or immerse yourself completely?
The choice is yours.
And the tap drips on.

Let me hold your hand, my friend.
Let me guide you on your way
As you approach the end.

I cannot comprehend
This dying light of day.
Let me hold your hand, my friend.

Into darkness we descend,
To my horror and dismay,
As you approach the end.

And though I can't pretend
That your love I can repay.
Let me hold your hand, my friend.

The time you've left to spend
Slips cruelly away
As you approach the end.

How can I contend
With what death has to say.
Let me hold your hand, my friend
As you approach the end.

As the earth shaped him,
He in turn gave shape to earth
Bringing soil to life

We stood together
As the first leaf fell,
Spiralling towards the earth,
Carried on a wind beyond it's control.
We held hands
As the first leaf fell,
Clinging to each other in silence,
A sense of desperate hope in the air.
We fought for each other
As the first leaf fell.
No sorrow for a season past,
But the anticipation born of a new beginning.
And the determination
That when the new leaves grow,
We will stand together.
Still.

They lie
under cover
of darkness
'neath blankets
of fear
and mistrust.
The distance
between them
immeasurable,
scant inches
apart.
Feigning sleep
and ignoring
silent tears.
Hands reaching
across an
ever widening
chasm,
but never
touching.
Souls searching
for each other
but never
meeting.
A night
spent together
while divided.
The loneliest
night.

Creeping across the ocean
Like a girl in gray silk
Stealing in after a late night,
Shoes left at the door.
Tiptoes over wooden floors.
Trailing wisps of dreams
With the lightest of kisses.

Her arms flailing
pinwheeling through the air
in dramatic attempt at emphasis.
His arms across his body
to absorb the impact
from her words.
Her eyes wide
like something possessed,
as expressionists weep.
His eyes closed
to keep at bay
the wicked witch.
Welcome to the new tribal dance.

Just an ordinary
Boy,
With an extraordinary
Smile
That is gifted only
To me.
What an ordinary
Life
What extraordinary
Love
The ordinary boy
And me.

A torrent of emotion
Breaks forth.
A reservoir of tears
Pouring out like
A force of nature
Melting bones
And burning flesh
Scorching souls
And shattering hearts.
Leaving empty vessels
Like ragdolls
Limp and lifeless

She sits on the rocks
An island between inlets
As the sea surges.

She sits on the rocks
Tempest within her raging
A beast in a cage.

She sits on the rocks
Hypnotised by crashing waves
Enticing her in.

She sits on the rocks
Brittle bones in silken skin
So vulnerable.

She sits on the rocks
An offering to neptune
Sacrificial lamb.

She slips from the rocks
In solitude no longer.
Witnessed by no-one.

My pen exists
Between heaven and hell
And feels the pull of both.
Swinging like an undecided compass,
I never know what mood
Will govern it.
Which polar end will win today?
It taps the page like a metronome
And I wait with bated breath.

The seed was planted,
A flower born,
You nurture her with tender hands
And protect her from high winds.
You don't cut her thorns,
Though they might ***** you,
Because they're part of her
You love the beauty she brings to your garden
And in turn she loves the beautiful garden wherein she grows.
Any man who plants a seed
Should be prepared to love the flower

They said he had a face
Only a mother could love
And the clothes on his
Back were torn.

His skin was pock marked
And his back was bent.
His teeth had rotted
In his head.

But when he sat
At a piano and sang,
The notes reached into
Your ribcage,

Crushing your heart
With an ivory key.
His beauty could bring
You to your knees.

Please be aware,
Before entering her lair,
You face possible death.

As the perfumed air
From her derriere
Will have you gasping for breath

The voice sings
Of missed trains and lost loves,
Lonely nights and lost lives.
Mellow notes tell a bitter tale,
Familiar,
Too familiar.
I feel the needle scratch
Under my skin.

I take one

Last

Drag

And let it burn away
Until the embers bite my skin.
Drop it in the ashtray,
Already overflowing.
My eyes sting
And I tell myself
The smoke got in my eyes.
The smoke got in my eyes, right?

He sits by the stop  
But never boards the bus
Smoking sweet smelling
Cigarettes
Fingers yellowed.
Drinking straight from
The can
Under the midday sun.
Beads of sweat on the brow.
People get on
And people get off.
Never him.
He tells me that
Sometimes
The greatest joy in life
Is watching others make the journey.

The giants of industry
Reaching upwards
To pluck the stars from the sky
And blind the moon
Cast a glow
Unnatural
And poisonous
Where livings are made
And lives are lost.
A town built around the chimneys.
A town destroyed by the smoke.

A plain stone
On a beautiful shore.
Scratches scored
Across
Telling tales of battles won
And lost.
Weathered by winds
And tossed aside by
The seas.
Trod on by heavy boots.
Some see gray.
Some see silver.
Part of a collection.
The sole collection.
The rare common stone.

A beautiful swan
Of the finest crystal
Sat upon a shelf,
Wings poised
To take flight,
Refracting weak sunlight
To create a halo of beauty.
For years she sat gathering dust
Until one day she fell
In a graceful arc,
Smashing on tiles
With the sweetest sound.
Of freedom.
At last.

You're not gone.
You just live
Beyond a thin curtain
That one day
I will pull back
And you will take my hand
And guide me through.
And the days from here
Til then
Are the blink of an eye
And a slow rolling tear.

Im lashed to the tracks
Waiting
For the trains that come
With no warning whistle.
The air is crushed from my lungs
And my heart shatters.
Still I lie
Still I wait
Still I live.
Sometimes I laugh
Before I cry.
Mercy travels elsewhere.

I am the tree,
That gave birth to the branch.
So how are it's leaves fading
While my roots are still healthy?

I nurtured the branch
And poured my life-force into it.
So how have I failed
In my job?

Where's the axe-man?
Call him to me.
For without my branch,
I am nothing

With your hands
Held aloft
And passion blazing in your eyes,
Your voice resonates
In an empty room
For the audience
Strain to hear
The whispers from the shadows.
And the applause
Echoing in your ears
Is merely a work of fiction.
Those who shout loudest
Will be the first
To lose their voice.

I walk these
streets of bones
wherein you lie.

I scour the
broken stones
neath a broken sky.

I lay my
pitiful flowers
with a silent cry.

My broken stone heart
with a feather beat
that has yet to die.

How do I express my feelings?
For years I've built
This shell to protect me.
But that doesn't mean
I'm an empty well.

Lower your bucket,
Have your fill.
But don't leave me empty.
I don't know how to recover.