Let’s lick the light from the sky,
Taste time together
You and I;
Gargle on green rolling free-flowing fields,
Then lap up a leaf left by Yggdrasil.

Let’s milk midnight from our eyes,
Weave the world a red
lullaby;
Turn somersaults in Summer’s vault of sunburnt malt
and mumbled salt that tumbled through
thunder’s thoughts of ***, raw whiskey and rye.

Let’s make the moon craters cry,
Give up our graces
You and I;
Sweep the stars into bell-bottom jars
as we tweak the meek **** of Mars and creep
through the spaces of cotton lace bars
faster than a racing eight-faced die.

Let’s lick the light from the sky,
Taste time together
You and I;
Share our souls with this suspicious old world
So it knows the reason why
we are
You and I.

Take a midnight swim
In an Ocean of Poems
Feel its currents flowing
From deep within.

Underneath my skin
There’s a tidal wave growing
And I follow it, knowing
I must sink or swim

The tide of time has lined your skin
with high laughter marks
indenting the parts
that were once washed smooth
by the Spring tide of youth
yet are now left unhindered
by the low tide of Winter;
So they lie 'round your eyes
sunbathing in the light
that years of experience bring.

Evening's light lies languorously
Across the land,
Waiting for
The quietly encroaching night
To bestow her
With beauty.

Pure blue simile sky,
Like a licked-clean plate
At a summer fete;
Or a fantasy scene
Where a giant has been
Gobbling up fast
(As he wanders past) clumps
Of cloud candyfloss cake,
So all that lies in his wake
Is a pure blue simile sky.

Misery loves Company
But the feeling isn’t mutual;
For Company wants just to be
With concepts which are social.

So Company spurns Misery
Which suits Misery just fine;
As Misery has cause to be
Friends with Anguish all the time.

Your tender words of love
have lost their lustre now;
There’s a patina on your poetry,
A corrosion in our chemistry and
all those brilliant ballads you wrote for me
are slowly turning to rust…

Now I see those little motes of misery –
your thoughtless touch disturbed in me –
All fall away quite peacefully
into a sea of fool’s gold dust.

A sunny summer’s day again;
When endless serenity fills the sky,
stills the Earth and
instills my mind with
a kind of listless energy
that exists somewhere
between bliss and lethargy.

I feel as though I can do anything;
Yet I know there are still so many things
I must get through
that I’ve no time to lose
and should therefore choose
which one I should do.

So I tried to decide –
but I got so confused that I had to deduce
there was simply no use
in letting myself get stressed out;

That the best thing to do
was to let the mess rest –
ignore all the chores and just
cure my sore and aching head
by taking a pew at my desk
(and taking my cue from this mess)
to write quite a tight poem instead
about how I’m lightly but still delightfully distressed
by this mess in my head.

**** happens; it’s true.
And no matter what you do,
****’ll happen to you.

It’s nothing personal; it’s just life.
And life don’t differentiate
between wrong and right.

So the best thing to do is have fun,
And laugh as **** happens,
‘Cause when all’s said and done –

This **** that happens ain’t a curse,
So when it sees you feeling good,
Then perhaps what’ll happen,
Is this **** that’s happening
will feel worse.

Sunshine tars the cars
Sloshes through trees sticky leaves
Congeals on concrete

Daydreaming;
Streaming then sieving
through words to find
their precious meaning
whilst leaving behind
the ***** sediment of
unneeded sentiments
which do not heed
the verse.

Empty, insensate space.
Inside my mind, the
Dormant mental matter lies,
Waiting to be awakened.

And then...

A pin-point poem appears
And all consciousness coalesces around
A single idea.

A bright, blinding light -
As omnipotent inspiration
Jump-starts the silence with
A big bang of imagination,
Throwing free-flowing thoughts outwards
In a chaotic burst of characters
As the emptiness explodes into
A universe of words.

Silence has a sound –
And if you just listen closely
you can hear it floating ’round you.

It’s up to you what you hear
but let me make one thing clear;
There’s no such thing as nothing –

Even emptiness is able
to bring something to the table for

before everything else came around,
The universe produced one hell of a sound –

in fact, you can still hear it in space
humming and drumming all over the place,

It’s a nuisance that never dies down;
It just keeps on going
without us knowing

Cause the Big Bang still hangs around;
banging on and on
with the same old song
all eternity long
in the background…

Love is someone who has your back
by never trying to hold you back,
Love is someone who gives a ****
by never trying to give you ****,
Love is someone who helps you out
by taking time to hear you out,
And
love is someone who takes control
yet never tries to take your soul.

You bide your time
To hide your crimes;

Never strike in
Broad daylight and

Always attack
At the back, so

None will realize the length
Of your lies, for
Even you can’t
See through them…

But I do.

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Merely a collection of reflections,
A thousand shards like shields
under which we hide, and therefore deny,
These scars we cannot heal?

What do these surfaces show us?
A covering of caricatures as
a substitute for skin?
A means to deflect, so none may detect
The person lost within?

How do we perceive each other;
As people? Or as purely pixels now –
A series of small screens,
An infinity of identities
in which our souls cannot be seen?

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Too distorted to support the burden
of the shared shame we feel?
What if we take the time to realign
Our falsified ideals?

Each morning I awake from my slumber
with a feeling -
A hunger
that's gnawing away at the core of me,
Screaming and pleading
to be fed.

But it's not in my guts;
It's just in my head,
A ravenous need
to chew over my dreams
and eat up
the meaty food for thought
that the night's dream catchers have caught.

Inner storm
So my skin
Forms the eye.

Tranquil flesh
Hides the turmoil
In my mind.

A lone blackbird sings
Fine-tuning the quiet orchestra of the heavens.
The world holds its breath, and waits
For the symphony of starlight
To begin.

It begins with a beat;
A steady reverberation in an
elemental part of me.

Then the bass line comes;
A red-raw rush of energy
viciously visceral in my veins,
Elevating my feeble frame
From it’s meek and sorry state
To become something
Ferociously sublime.

And now I’m mainlining music,
Letting it
Soak into my skin
Infect my ears
Infuse my feat and
Bombard my quivering brain
With its beat
‘Til I explode into a mass
of minuscule notes;
Quick little quavers
like quarks
that waver, then stalk
through my mind,
Looking to find
fresh melodies, to which
my soul can bind
and bleed.

This is how it feels
within me,
When my body responds
to a purified beat;
This is true ecstasy –
When I fly on an
emotional high.

She began
By baiting compliments,
Moved onto
Angling for kind words,
Progressed to
Fishing for sympathy,
Resorted
To trawling for attention.

A collection of curves…
An assortment of angles…
An alliteration of lines…

How do we each perceive
the universe?

How do our minds define
what we believe we see?

Do our conflicting views
intolerably entangle themselves?

Or could it be
our conceptions converge
more harmoniously?

In hindsight, her veneers
Were not the best idea,
And nor did Botox help;
It turned her howls to yelps.

Her pretty, patterned claws
Looked weird on canine paws,
Just like her enhanced *******  
Beneath her furry chest.

Too late, she realized
Her need to be disguised
Was pointless all along;
She knew now she'd been wrong...

Silken Sable Sheets
Flecked with the dust of heaven
Sheltering the earth
(Inspired by @DimpleVerse Prompt 'Dusk Light')


Golden sunflower
Rising from the dew-drenched Earth
Scattering cherry-blossom clouds
Across the lavender sky.
(Inspired by #PoemPeriod prompt 'Blossom')

Plump blood orange sun
Juices spill across the sky
Then seep into dusk
(Inspired by #TLPoetry Prompt 'Juicy')

Vibrating glass skull
Magnifying my senses
****** off migraine!

Limbs looped like elastic bands
When our lips explore and entwine;
Fingers coiled, clawing and clasping,
Tongues taunt, teasing and twisting,
Skin sticks to skin,
Flesh into flesh,
As our bodies blend
And our souls become
Entangled.

Every day can be
like a tsunami of troubles
we struggle
to overcome;
So let’s be brave
and ride the wave
’til the day
and our troubles
are done.

Stirring the depths,
Trying to find
a sign of light
a line of sight
a guiding light
to raise me from this mess,
But sometimes it simply feels like
I’m just stirring the deaths,
The empty breaths
and losing sight
of life.

A confession of crows
crowd and clamor around
a jackdaw preacher

Midnight's milky eye
blindly stares across a sky
written in star dots.
Feeling with fingers of cloud,
Moon reads the braille of Heaven

While our eyes form the windows to our souls
In our hands we possess less nebulous portals;
For they hold a way to let the universe in
as we find and feel, define and deal
with the weight of all worldly things.
So if something is more than conceptual,
We choose to use our hands to express our souls;
A high-five, a handshake, a round of applause,
A raised fist, a punch (or a good ol’ ‘up yours’);
How we give and take, develop and break the bonds
that bind us, are all defined by the gestures we make.
And yet –
Though these gestures seem sure and strong,
This purest way in which to communicate
can be the surest way to make a mistake.

Do gorgons have bad teeth?
I feel inclined to ask
Since there can't be a dentist
Brave enough to do that task...

Sometimes all we need
Is for us to believe
We each have the right
To keep breathing

Lonely television set -
Lost within the gloom
Of a distant, echoing room,
Where a burbling voice is barely heard
Reciting sights it has seen –
Ghostly glimpses of what has been
But now is gone, yet somehow
Lingers on through a
Steady, languid stream
Of slurred and senseless words.

A scribble
Is a doodle
In a hurry,
And to potter
In a panic
Is to scurry.

Your flabby fingers,
That flip and flop
across the keyboard
like a family of famished maggots
fighting over a few morsels
of fresh meat in a
feast of festering
covfefe.

There once was a young man from Chile
Who was exceedingly silly
One day for a dare
He ran round the town square
With just a pink bow on his *****.


There was a young man from Peru
Who was terribly fond of U2
He wanted to see them
Play Rome's Coliseum
But the curve of the Earth spoiled his view.

The day slowly dies;
Scars bleed across the sky as
sunset stains the sea

The golden shallows
Of my conscious thoughts
Soothe the broiling depths
Of my fathomless fears.

No tactics
No manoeuvres
No turncoats
No back-stabbing
No power struggles
No 'friendly fire'
No deserters
No traitors...

No problem.

Petal lips blossom
Around a red rosebud -
A flushed flower unfurling,
Dewy with desire,
Intoxicating the air
With the sweetness of its scent

Cold as the leather of a leftover glove;
Infertile fields where we once lay our love.
Cruel is the clasp of winter's embrace,
Chilling the skin of Earth's famished face.

But hope springs eternal, and spring brings new growth,
Spreading life through the land and love through us both,
'Til Earth's face is blooming like never before
And our love is flourishing forever more.

Act now! There may not
Be a next time
To give someone
Your heart
For tomorrow is
An endless day
That never seems
To start

From lonely depths
Came forgotten words
Of each false promise
She had heard.

Swept Away
On thoughtless tides
To far-flung shores
Where her dreams reside.

Corners drawn and
Dimples ready;
Her super-sharp-shooter mouth motionless,
Slick scarlet silencer
Stops a chamber
Loaded with desire.

She winks her eye
***** the trigger;
In her hands a semi... automatic -
She knows I'm ready as
She parts her lips, then
Lets the bullets fly.

It is strange to restrain
The child within
Whilst trying to trap it
In the cells of your skin.

If perpetual youth
Is truly your goal
Let your inner child flourish
In the bounds of your soul.

Softly, the shaking starts;
My sighs slowly rise as
Your energy inside me makes
Our skin pulsate with passion, then
Our bodies burst in tandem as
Our bones explode in ecstasy, our
Soul synchronize eternally, as
Everything that is you and me
Ignites into the night

Speckled sea-green leaves
wave wistfully in the breeze;
Summer ebbs and flows

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Merely a collection of reflections,
A thousand shards like shields
under which we hide, and therefore deny,
These scars we cannot heal?

What do these surfaces show us?
A covering of caricatures as
a substitute for skin?
A means to deflect, so none may detect
The person lost within?

How do we perceive each other;
As people? Or as purely pixels now –
A series of small screens,
An infinity of identities
in which our souls cannot be seen?

Are we all just broken mirrors?
Too distorted to support the burden
of the shared shame we feel?
What if we take the time to realign
Our falsified ideals?

I'd sooner have a crooner
Singing bad songs in my head
Than a tuna from a schooner
Leaving bad smells in my bed