To the east
To the sundered east
Of the deserted Isle
Their lies a wrack
black timbered bones
Scold clinging clams
That harbour there
In the Wrack of the Isle
As she lies down

They say
In hushed wispers
it happened
Many years ago
Men died
Or so they say
But now, no one really knows
It's all been forgotten now
Through foggy years of
Sun and Snow
And dirth the man
Who can name her

The wrack rises
To the waters
To greet the
High airs above
The darlking deep beneath
Where once there was a love
Who can say, now
When looking at the wrack
In its black longingness
That once, it was a brightened
Vessel, fine and new
Filled with laughter
And simple joys

They dive there sometimes
When the tides allow
But divers have to be wary
It's dangerous near
Wrack waters, so easy
To be pulled down and
Within, you go
And once in her shell
The air can not sustain
You, for it is
Not for breathing
Creatures

Remember the shore
They tell
The newcomers
You must remember
Where it is
To the west you
Must go, and so on....
But carefully,
The wrack will
Call at you
Softly, and slow
Breathing liquid fumes
That fill the lungs
And crush the ribs

I swam round her once
It was a heady -
Experience, all shoreline
Was forgotten
I was lured by her
Cracked spars and
Speckled beams
So beautiful
Beneath a shining sea

But I learned there
That no man may
Swim the wrack
Forever, and not forget
Deep death there awaits
And lies down
With you
In a wet grave
So be forwarned
Before you swim
The wrack of the Isle
To the East
The sundered East.

We pantomime our sumptuous dirge

That has never known a chord without novas

Or a Nocturne of phrase

Charmed into glissandos

gilded as galaxies

of gossamer, awestruck Thought...

And now

These Arias are all of Us -

Phosphorus Dirth-worms

In dead white apples

In a Cave.

Our elusive orchestra

Polished by ambient clay

To gleam forsaken

and redeemed

Has often curved the flat space

Between The Mystery

And No Church -



Listen

And the melodies

Decipher

The delicate heresies of Love

That you make

With your bare hands

And our separate Hells'

Are but one Heaven

The Devil has to See

To Believe.

I've succumbed
To The Golden Rule,
I'll do to me
What I do unto you.

If I'm the cause
Of sorrow and tears,
Know you I've lodged
The same for years.

Should I be
The source of mirth,
Make you laugh,
Relieve the dirth,
Know that I too
***** this earth.

When I'm criticial
Of your best efforts,
You fall short
Of what's expected,
I'll look inside,
To see what I could be.

Though I'm annoyed
With your flip-flopping,
I know I've been known
To be the one that waffles.

Now comes the part
That deals with heart.
God forbid
I break yours in two,
But know you that
Mine breaks too.

When your days take hold,
When you grey and grow old,
I'll tend your needs,
Do what I please.

And when our lives
Stop being our light,
And dark prevails,
And day is night,
And we've departed
This corporeal cesspool,
I'll know I succumbed
To *The Golden Rule.

Across this green and verdant land
Atop the snow capped reaches high,
Shadows lengthen as the sun
Descends in golden strata sky.

Alone I sit on granite stone
Contemplating nature’s gold
Why then, is my mood so dark?
Why then do I feel, so old?

I caste my mind across the sea
To continents adrift and lost
Where war and famine grow unchecked,
Where we, afar, won’t count the cost.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Rescind concern for they who bleed,
In Syria’s protracted scream
Or under Russian jackboot greed.

Where we who dwell in peaceful air
Withhold our roar of hot retort,
Who turn the other cheek to look
Away from honour’s last resort.

Where politic’s impotent bleat
Of sanctions threat for Cossack cheek
A nervous holding hand depicts
The West’s resolve is proven weak.

Instigators, born of wealth
And power, seeking more and more,
Manipulating Putin and Obama's
Calculated Chess game score.

We who watch with no comment
In green surround and peaceful sky
Now turn to look the other way
As they in distant places die.

Do we come to terms with this,
This dereliction born of loss?
Across the globe this dirth of care,
Humanity's lead albatross?

M.

These exposed moors lie shrunk
and unslaked under searing skies
yet streams in damp bushy sidings
feed thriving ferns or tall bullrushes.

Gorse scorched to unpetaled shards
of stiff pretence once bore yellow gilt
yet life dies on hot clifftops and wings
feeding fledglings seek richer harbours.

This moorland looks on ocean's plenty
as rather precocious for incessant thirst
in midsummer dirth fathers disturbance
to parental warnings of dying seed-heads.        

Unheard their dumb cries for water
when plants' burnt insides become raw.

Oh how could I be...

How could i be your perfect man.
who meets all expectations and fills the desires of your heart.

How could i be selfless without doubt.
That i do not think of myself for 1 second.

How could i be the man you had dreamed about. Fulfilling every fantasy you had made.

How could i be blameless before you. Not a speck of dirth in my records.

How could i be your perfect man. I'm trying.. I'm trying hard. To the point of losing myself. I tried hard. But i keep losing.

Losing because i couldn't be perfect for you.

All within the dyed robes of rhyme,
and the subtle dispatches of sinful woe...
Enchanted in wisdom; a pilgrim's trot,
waging and waling at the spot.

Fringing at the hands that drew his fate,
ever so lonesome in his wait.

With scattered fears, roaming earth,
in search of what, truly, is dear and dirth.

There is much freedom, need I say, in passing time...
In the careless precision, pattern, and chime!

Dearest dreams, do float away,
and water my sight, with not grief this today!
While sweetest passions, of ides a-due,
devise in garnishing thoughts of two!

Later mine hearts, when candles do,
shalt guidance us to all, when I am through!

And when thine waters cease further fall,
all virtues when on then, shall hitherto stall...
Beware of that widow, that mocks at our night,
in pitch perfect light, stings mostly she might!
for when golden braids,
spike at God's feet,
away, shalt thy singing,
make surely we meet!

A.r. Bazian

Think of the mostly addressed,
and write down all the names;
I remember all the words
but not the pain.
Take pen and ink to
correct all the errors;
wash away dirth
with the rain.
     Drought will not last forever,
     and nor will the callousness.
     One day these words will belong to another,
     And with them, my emptiness.
For the snow fell down like rain
to turn to white what's black;
and when it's finally spring,
we will find all that we lack.
     For the earth swallowed up the dirt,
       and the sky inhaled the sighs,
       and the sea drank up the tears.

Remember: what was is no more. Look ahead.

(c) 2016 Indigo Kenna