.
Links in the chemist chain
laced in a double helix
defy the laws of the universe,
and the atavistic resurgence
creates isotopes of dream passion.
     Elements conspire in panic
     with a symmetry of casual chaos
     that mimics an atomic bomb,
     destroying its own creator
     in a cruel parody of birth paradox.
          Arresting the Iris of Dissolution
          with cuffed anxiety drowning
          in a pond of helium ore,
          carelessly drifting on acid flesh,
          coagulating in a soup of memory.

And the paradigm shifts again,
reality unfocussed clears, strains,
revealing your shuddering form,
next to me, keeping me warm.
Lids flicker and you open your eyes,
shining, smiling in cute surprise.
Moving my finger up to my lips
whilst I gently untangle our hips.

     Do you remember this night?
     Last night, tonight, tomorrow night?
     Time begins to slowly rewind,
     on the night you blew my mind.

My essence is filled with your heart,
a love I have yet to discover.
Whilst you wander between the stars,
my universe starts to recover.

So please don't break this silence now.
Please don't shatter this moment long,
I want this post ****** memory to remain
in the morning when you have gone.

© Pagan Paul (04/11/17)

Hobbling over rock and dust,
The Nameless winces with every weary step.
His soles scorched and torn
By the unaccustomed roughness underfoot
The jagged teeth of a prickly piping earth.

Alone he makes his way
With tiny treads towards the dying dusk.
Fatigue dragging at his limbs
Bowing his neck to leave eyes downcast
And unfocussed; seeing naught but blurs and
The swirling and swaying of the trembling past.

A city:
Grand buildings stretching as one toward the sky;
Great lions waking from their feast and basking
In the brilliance of noonday air.
The bustle of flesh coursing about their purpose
The tight press of bodies all around
And the chatter and the natter and the laughter and the anger.

And then the silence.
The fear and the glares.
The hunger
And a guilty aversion of one’s eyes.

The shattering of glass
The raising with fire and boot.
And the stealing of Names.

And now here he trudges.
With tiny treads and into naked night.

only when she smiled at me from her death bed did I realise that she had always known; always known that she had been born for martyrdom. if I had realised sooner, I think, I would not have let her go to war.
as per the cliché, it only became obvious in hindsight – I spent countless nights wondering how I hadn’t noticed sooner.
how did I not realise, the night that she propped her feet up against my bedroom wall and told me that I’d inherit the earth?
“And what about you?” I had rolled my head sideways to look over at her, tearing my eyes away from the cracked ceiling.
she hadn’t done the same, had only smiled and breathed out softly. that was all that it had taken for me to forget about it, all that it had taken to convince me to change the topic.
it was so obvious; I see that now. people would tell me that she never joked, and I’d reply that she did so constantly.
now I see that she was serious.
I see it in every time she told me that she would never grow old; “**** me,” she had laughed, “If I ever reach thirty.”
being young, I didn’t want to grow old, either, and I jokingly agreed.
but thirty isn’t old. now, I am old.
she should be old, too.
she had been all fleeting smiles and elbows and smoke that curled through the air. she had been fearsome and secretive and warm arms wrapping around my waist.
when she called her flag a cross to bear, I had offered to share the load and she told me no, it wasn’t mine to bear.
in hindsight, I know that she never wanted me to die with her. she had always known that she would leave me here, and she had known that I would let her go.
dying suited her – she did it with grace (she didn’t too much with grace, she was always in her own way). her pain-tightened jaw didn’t disrupt the soft smile, the tears in her unfocussed eyes didn’t make them less bright. she didn’t struggle, she didn’t call for help, she simply asked for me to stay with her, to sit by her. I wasn’t supposed to cry, I knew that, so I kept the tears at bay or wiped them off on my ***** sleeve, because I was slowly realising that she wanted me to happy, that maybe I should have been happy about this – it was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
martyrdom put her at peace, martyrdom made her glow; afterwards, I wasn’t sure whether or not I should mourn her.
she had been happy, with blood on her lips and in her hair.
and so I was happy, with an ache in my chest.

These are worries:
bad realizations and
unfocussed eyes.
These too:
Feeling something raw,
and also vague panics—
when everything beneath
drops far below and leaves
no breath at all.

When the breathing
returns heavy in your ear
and five nails in a circle
on your back
remind you just how real
you could be,
it’s easy to fret
(unwaveringly)
someone is walking
through something
beautiful; nature maybe,
complaining about bad directions.

And the tears flow.
It must be strong, Spider Solitaire couldn't hold them back.
The danger of an unfocussed mind,
Left to wander where it will.

It will always wander to you,
As where my heart leads, my mind will follow.
My heart aches for you.
The most wrong thing in my life was the most right.

Being with you was like coming home.
Not the horrible cliched version I always cringed at,
That felt like a small town, restrictive,
'There's no place like home' Dorothy concept.

You was my home,
Real, right, the place I belonged,
Safe... oh how wrong I was... safe.
So that's proof I suppose,
It was all in my head.

I always knew that, none of it was real.
It wasn't reality, no dealing with budgets,
Or weaknesses, disagreements, nothing real, just the fun.
Yet I really felt it, and I really feel it.

It was right, you was like coming home,
I was safe,
You stopped, everything, and I still can't hate you.
You are beautiful.
Good life my love x

Silent thunderous flash and blink
awake into another vision
melting lucid in realization
of a world of simple repeating gestures
all the former things unending held
soft, unfocussed what could be
forever in this gentle bed
until alarmed my heavy head
strikes the work day morning square
to live a truth I am aware
fails to compare to the dream.

At first, it was a pleasant adventure
but the trainer is not that easy on me
I swear I must be some kind of a ******
who is proportionally unfocussed
and over-processing unidirectionally
should I just stand like a marching frog?
and leap where the primal instinct leads me
or punch like a perfectionist in a constant orbit

At last, it is something that I need to stick to
but the trainer is not that easy on me
I swear  the strength within will gather
and awake the deadened practical sense
to some Phoenix that cyclically degenerates  
punching those pads in a total disarray
with strength, persistence and sleek control
until it all sets in my mind, soul and body

windows blue, brushfire outside frame
lens snaps unfocussed souvenirs
button stuck & final landscape
reel changed in digital camera.

business armour, new & costly
spare strides, fresh shod feet
new path to wear & flatten trail
movement forward, steps with bells.

behind eyes dam pressure, fears of
others, games with blades, paper greed
leather pouch of cards, no perception
rides of ease & empathy bypass.

laundry dangles worn & fresh
warm breeze & sweat beads, pegs support
changing days, transforming month
summer growth for a turn of season

is
the almost nonsense word
that describes
what i feel
when i look at
and see you.

I strongly suggest
that every one of us
jump off of that cliff
of love affair
that seems so unwise
but truly isn't.

Nothing will catch you.

You will fall.

But at the bottom,
is indescribable joy
a chord of music,
sublime and true

This is a monument
to the principle of pith
The pithy truth
that love is a true burden
gradually compressed
by inward growth

The alternative
standing to unfocussed attention
the border of confusion
regret and chaos
is death

to save you from this burden
would be unthinkable.