Trust the sun (she says)
her first rays when creation was young
and God's window opened outward
as a place of worship
born to be breathtaken
daylight imploring for companionship
and bleeding into itself
as it bleeds into the worshipper.

She notices that her own taste
in repeating patterns doesn’t mesh
with the apparently similar
patterns in Drakensberg
they obey a different logic, and the friction
between them generates
a fascinatingly ambiguous color.

Tinctured cathedral of time passing
on its first layer of stairs...

I heard a tale once
Of vapid medium matrix
And taut smiley convolutes

A tale which embarked me
At that time
Yet gave me no notion of its truer
Nature

You see
The ocean has no currents when you’re under

You see
You don’t see into your own eyes very often

You see

But the many yous that make a lifespan up
Can see you and make you see through

There is a tremblesome youngster in all of us
The one which makes crusaderies bearable
And laughter cramps quotidian gamblers

The breathtaken gasping-at-everything
Taken aback little idiot with the
Thunder in his belly
And the crawls below her skin
And the overhead waves
Evermore crashed within
Yes my meek teen rally
Once a half-contrived sin
Once my part bright moon
Of a solitary kin
Comes in all of us it seems

And we make up threads of social
For the fabric of our culture
That we start to weave adawn

Yet at dawn we are not there
With a full grown self aware

And at the solar peak of glare
We are still too young to care

Then at scarlet tap of dusk
Still a bit too tough to bare

Last at midnight we are gripped
With the fullest conscient gaze

So we can all marvel upon
How much oxygen we waste

In this marvellous endeavour

I think though it’s for the better
And I’ve slowly learned to praise
All the veiling in this system
Of Born
Dead
Then Raised
Then Very Dead

What I mean is there’s some Wise
In the grinds of our Ways
How Ethereum with potential
Gets palpable and cased

Because then we can all be
With the hardship of adult
And the vestige of a kid

And then we get to die
To get it over with…

But wait I still have something
A little more positive to say

Like the first person on Mars
Is likely still a kid
So when we get to Mars
We’ll still float in that kid

If you feel trapped in the smiley
And depressed and yesterdated
Version of yourself

It means you still have all
The other phases ahead

Yet it might not still be quite
As freely as you’re expecting
That your form will excavate
Through life’s cruel winding

Not all of us will get
To float our kid to Mars

Yes, you’ll get it All
Oh yes, you’ll get to try

But in the end, my friend
You’ll be glad you get to die.

her eyes awaken before dawn
while her soul remains in transit
between unity and separation
between a painful, intense longing
and a pretense of indifference
that would temporarily preserve
her sanity.

she walks through crowds
all she sees are sounds and colours
passing by her numbed heart
keeping her head up, she witnesses
the blue horizons scraped by buildings
the zenithen sunlight lining every object
- breathtaken by a suppressed memory,
she unknowingly lets out a silent sigh
in place of an unmentioned name,
deliberately buried deep within.

often, she pauses her thoughts to view
the vastness of the world, in hopes
that it will cause her heart's unspoken
matter to be reduced into insignificance
and she won't have to live the pain
of remembrance.

yet, how could she remove the source
of her heart's peace, and yet, how could she continue living with the torment of distance,
of uncertainty, the eternal fear
that she would be forgotten,
before she forgets.

outwardly, her form is in good health
her speech eloquent, her posture straight
her eyes dry, her walk steady,
yet inwardly, she is paralysed,
her sickness grows each day
and at night, she drowns into
sweet memories of the unmentioned
as she tells herself that his smile will
return...even if only in her dreams.

her eyes close after midnight
while her soul remains in transit
between nearness and distance
between darkness and a light
that would conclude her wait
in all goodness, in peace.

New England, 
You are a beautiful dance,  
each moment is a pleasure, 
each sight a romance.

In the heart of your beauty, 
my soul takes flight,
by a serene lakeside 
bathed in moonlight.

I stood on a mountain peak
taking in the view,
I relaxed on sandy beaches
refreshed, I was renewed.

While walking between trees
I listened to the peaceful lull 
then I paused to sit by the river
as my heart felt full.

I wrote this love letter
to a captivating place,
I'm besotted, breathtaken
by your splendour and grace.

©️Lizzie Bevis

And I loved a girl once
From the same place as this band I like
I hear her sweet missives in the angsty twang of their songs
And when someone talks of New York
I picture her running about the streets
Before she knew me
Breathtaken in the easy newness of it all
And when I think of southern England
I think of the trip we took to the coast
Her bright eyes leading me from London
Hands steady on the wheel and my thigh
And I can’t visit the town of my youth
Crochet myself through the crowds on Cowley road
Without looking for her by the house she used to live in
I see her body pushing mine into the red brick of the Middle Eastern takeway
On that warm night in April when she first showed me her longing.
And often when I'm in Clapham
Driving past the couples walking slowly in the grey snowed-grass
I’m haunted by the common, dusty with bottle tops
and the smell of smoking
Light august rain as she cried at my swollen tears

Your sight breathtaken
My jewel of inestimable value
I must defend my assets
With canine teeths I will bite
I'll invoke volcanos if I please
I survived the toughtest of clans
Don't cross my path

I can be as calm as a Tiger
But things can change very fast
If you wander in my sacred chambers
We are unified by complex bonds
Bounded by oath, sealed with blood
With my life, I'll protect you
This promise I make till fade

We are as determined as the Crows
Imbued with the natural aggression of the Pitbull
With the tactics of the sneaky Fox
Lilke the Eagles, our Sentries watches
Take your paedophilia and crave elsewhere
For might is not right
****; if you see it, say it
Else, you too are as guilty as the culprit