Dear Diary

                     It’s not my fault

It’s easy to render
Myself a victim
Driven by consequence
                                    
Accountability
Sheds daily
                    Like skin
It silently falls

Perhaps I shall erase
My cuttings of
                    Foregone conclusions

They surround a
Diary full of days
Each encircled
                    By failure of others

We could bathe
In physical truth
                                    Perhaps we do
Neat or distilled
Drip fed
              Like water
In its any forms
Placeless on periodic table

Truth softened
                          In our fragility
        Hardened
                          By others resilience

Worn by the face of a manikin
        At peace within the world
        If that’s what you wish it to be

When there's no thought
               For tomorrow today
When yesterday fails to exist  
It’s like being breathless
The relative moment is now    
            And you gasp
Grip life hold it close
Close enough
To accept every nail
Driven deep in your body  
                                  By life
Becomes no more
Than a point of reference
Upon which to hang clothes

When in the moment
                        Your presence
Fills a bandstand
                   A park
A promise made as a child
            When I grow up......
Hold yourself close to each minute
                                      Be breathless

We’re parallel
You’re most
Of my being
Touched by the stars
                              Pulled by the moon

The salt in tears
Surely connects us
To that part
Still water bound
                       By the memory it holds

To that which is felt
                        Heard
                        Seen
                        Anticipated
                        
The chord within a Hammer Horror
Scored in a “diminished fifth”
Which
When conducted
Emits a frequency that
                             Walks through walls

I ask
You say
                              “I’m not sure”
Like the moment
Before it snows
Or nights spent
Searching for Venus
Without clarity
Through naked eyes

You knew she's secluded
In a room unused
But still said
                                "I’m not sure”

There she wore a pendant
Engraved   “keep out” in braille
I didn’t feel it
We never touched
Venus dims
You won’t speak
Words from within
I ask
You say
                                “Are you sure”

Each balloon in my room
Carries a captive thought
The type of which remain
                                         Dominant
                                         Predatory
Paced
Head below shoulder
Eased only by a need
To sway
                    On un-retracted claw
Each anxiety  
A cord of attachment
Each balloon
Led to an open window
                                   One by one
Released to navigate the planet
Lest they stay
To circle the world
                    Inside my head

The tattooist’s lines
Soften
Turn to blue
                          Faiths have
An anchor
And forget me knot
                          Marks time
Within a beachfront kiosk
                               Mattress in rear
Note on shutters
                         Saying  
                         Back in 15 minutes

Older than her waist size
Younger than the priced
Sunday Sport tabloid
Talking of *******
And WW2 bomber on the moon
                          That she’d folded
       As though sleeves rolled up

Her name imprinted
Each stick of rock
                       On the seafront
When anyone talked of Faith
                              Pink words
                                    Always turned blue

We connect to our
Own singular truth
Inexpressible by word
                    Relayed by the heart
                           The space where
Solitary reflection
                      Tightens my throat
Mixes emotions
                         Until colours run

Leaving nothing
Bar mottled visions
Held back
          By their own significance

Twenty-four elders ,
seven chakra spirits ,
four beasts , now
the origins of carnal desire
and the Lake , of Glass .
☆
The Key of David ,
controlled by spirit ,
is in the temple
of the pineal gland
and in union with holy
secret .
☆
Subordinate to God's will ,
for thyne is the kingdom ,
thyroid and throat chakra --
the flaming sacred heart ,
triumphant in time and
tribulation .
☆
The Witness and his
golden sword of fire ,
the Seat of the Soul
attacked and defended
from evil .
To Virtue , the final victory
is delivered ,
true love and the Seeds of
the Cosmos .