my parents taught me
to remain silent
when i have nothing nice
to say

they said
people will not
assume i'm a mute
if i keep quiet

so now
when something requires a nasty reply
i keep silent and
raise my *******

I die small deaths at the hand of remembrance.
Wear me like a red poppy on your lapel;
I want you to remember me like this:

in the rain, my summer dress
sticking to my body, cutting a figure
you've never seen: sadness.
She looks like sadness, she looks
like a tired box of bones with her arms
outstretched
calling out for love.
My eyes running with the water,
and repeating your name like some
******* prayer
and your arms like anchors and holding.
Nobody is ever going to love you like I do,
I said and you listened.
You listened then,
in the broken opus of rain hitting tin roofs,
and the ground melting at the touch of something
so pure.
But what of it, anyway.

You're going to need a bigger bunch
of flowers than this to make it right
this time.

.
'The wall on which the Prophets wrote is cracking at the seams'
King Crimson - Epitaph (In The Court of the Crimson King).

.
I have no God.
I have no religion.
But one thing I do know ...

Any self-respecting Prophet
would be spinning in their grave
if they knew about
the atrocities and violence,
the fanaticism and ****,
carried out in their name.

Any self-respecting Prophet
would be crying through time
if they heard how
their thoughts and teachings,
their messages and words,
were used to justify hate.

© Pagan Paul (25/05/17)

Explain to me why I dance to blood,
Look at me when I hurt too much.
Tell me why he painted me black,
and scrutinise my high when he doesn't love me back

My thoughts drift slow and lazy
through the valleys of my mind,
reaching out for answers,
searching for something I left behind.

My memories were here once before
with darkness, screams and pain,
the intense fire of creative spirit
dampened to pulp by a wicked brain.

So where did I leave myself
when I escaped in to my head?
I've deconstructed the mental walls
to discover the places I had fled.

Between. Betwixt. Bewitched. Be still,
a balm to soothe this anxious seer.
My thoughts drift slow and lazy
through the valleys of my fears.


© Pagan Paul (20/05/17)