Feast
Your eyes
And your palate
On the scrumptious friendship
Being spread across the table!

Relish
And delight,
Treasuring them all,
For a seat occupied
Is one lonely day less.

What
Will happen
When one day
You sit there waiting
While they are eating elsewhere?

Gorge
In companionship,
Eat you fill
Knowing that, one day,
You'll have to dine alone.

The
Time's now.
Contemplation has waned,
Spurring me to action.
Worms wail for my worst.

Others
Are easier;
I move on,
Albeit with hearts heavy.
Sing sorry songs for us.

Yet,
Within myself
Lies the problem.
Desiring the dormant destroyer,
Chants to conquer are quelled.

This
Last stretch
of eternal purification
I must walk alone.
Old man, rest in peace.

Where
Do I
Begin to look
For the very words
To describe your infinite magic?

Inside
Man’s *****
Or books’ jackets
Is where your glow
Perhaps lies warm, awaiting me.

No –
I suspect
Your sultry secret
Is woven like silk
In my mind’s romantic recesses.

Wherever
You are,
Just know that
I live for you,
Black verse on white paper.

Alone
And unread,
The loose leafs
Of my very soul
Lie unbeknownst by the world.

My
Untimely awakening
Left them forlorn
In a lowly-lit attic,
Entombed and awaiting my return.

Across
The fiery fields
Of purifying perdition
I shall riotously rush
For the salvation of literature.

Sweet
Mother Nature,
Stave the flames
From my abandoned abode.
Its contents are my life.

You're
So mechanical,
Grinding and menacing.
Why did you change?
Remember you not our bliss?

I'm
The same;
I resist alteration.
It's true - seasons change,
Yet that's about it here.

Your
Leery labyrinth
Of menacing streets
I searched inside out,
All to find you've gone.

Why
Don't you
Just come back
To our sweet nature
Where our love was pure?

Locked up in a sealed, squat jar
Levelling out the fragile playing fields
Which separate our stupid lives from your pre-natal bliss,
I gazed upon you in constant amazement,
As your watered and eager soul shook against the thick glass.

In the comfort of a forgotten cupboard,
You peer out daily through your half-shut pink eyes,
Watching the cogs of our legs grind up and down stairwells,
Oiled by fear and glistening in blind faith.
And, still, you make the glass rock and tilt with your Buddha laughs!

Quite a charming crew, you had there!
Magical bones and limp lizards
(Amongst other players) gathered together for science’s sake,
Only to be glimpsed at briefly in-between breaks.
Kids came and went, things were built - you never changed.

It was better that you never tasted life’s lost lustre.
Had you past through the wet, wobbly womb,
Only a few options would have awaited you –
Pet, chop suey or a pitiful pawn on Squealer’s chessboard.
You’re too sweet for all of that – stay bottled up.

The wicked candle of cindered vacations
Invites in the aroma of specials shopping
For school stationery, short-sleeve shirts
And books with which to bury boyhood.

Once scattered now reassembled,
All were dressed like occupants of a warm, neat nest,
Not a plume lent to a rebellious rise.
Barbered and beautiful in balm,
All gleamed gorgeously, save for your humble, sprouting speaker.

Naturally averse to clipping claws
And vehemently opposed to malting manes,
I slipped through the scorching Serengeti to school,
Rugged and sharp in every stride,
Intent only on ******* on the porch of prissy pigeons.

Horrified, they weighed up my Transylvanian talons,
Convinced such manifestations hail from heretic or heathen heritage.
Looking at my lumped locks with gentrified gall,
They whispered low squawks, suspecting lice.

Two metallic hand-held instruments housed in pouches and boxes
Brought my feline rebellion to its guillotined end.