Spiritualis void,
Damp and mouldy.
Every day.
Every night.
Level 1,
Till kingdom come.

Corn syrup comfort,
Damp and mouldy.
Every week.
Every month.
Beating, barely,
Lady in waiting.

Fractal faces,
Damp and mouldy.
Smile through glass,
Every year.
Every lifetime.
A standard sod,
New wheel.

Ripped soul,
Damp and mouldy.
Thirsty,
Every you.
Every them.
Dopamine slide.
Up the dose,
Up the dose,
Up the dose.

Harken unto thee all ye cubicled rats
Furrowed brows
And mortgage rows
A cocktail of sneezes, wheezes and white lights

Leave me the soil under my fingernails
The monsoon and the snakes,
Heavy lifting, creature coexisting

Just spare me from the circle-backs
And obituary emails.
The stale air, ergonomic chair.

Hallowed be the slow mornings
Birdsong breaking the dawn
A soul full of tea
Softly resting chin on knee

Save us from the flood of empty words
Of formality and forced smiles
The glorification of busy

Crumble the ancient hierarchy

Let us wander home.

Fading apricot sky
Paints the wet sand
The sharpest silver
and romantic mauve.

Angry incoming waves
Turn to lace agate
For a perfect moment
Only to return again.

A sooty oystercatcher
Warbles
Always keeping
one eye on me.
It is, after all,
his littoral arcadia.

Sea mist coats my skin
Speckled sand whips at my skin
Claggy dread claws at my skin
While I write
And write
And write.

Mother gaia, recycling queen

Stitches old bodies and fashions trees

These souls that travel around blue earth

In fractal beauty birthed and rebirthed

My Spanish life was short but rich

They knew me as the bejeweled enchantress

An african lot was bestowed in time

I danced a primal dance and became the divine

A boy of sadness for this whole life

A muddy battlefield became my demise

Now cutting through island overgrowth

I forage for food for my pregnant wife.

Poetry is the portal to the release of grief
But why?

I want to say the things I never could

The inner weird

The trauma

And concluding hopefulness

In the melody of a poem
In the sweetness of a song.

I want to express my early life
In it's rawness,

Ugliness

And pain

In the arms of soft decorative ribbons
And shiny metallic hearts.

You are,
You are,
Quite frankly
Subpar.

Your words meander and diverge
Till they mean nothing

You and your energy walk in the room
And the walls wilt somehow,
The air defies nature's laws and recoils.
Mould spores attempt escape.

Your lack of self awareness, your ego,
Is an oozing cancerous lump atop your nose
And not one of us can look away.

No volume of bile could digest
The orange fat of your arrogance

You are,
You are,
A killjoy,
A **** on the dancefloor.