i am not a poet,

nor am i a poem.

i am not a writer,

nor a book.

i am not a painter,

nor a painting.

i am not a sculptor,

nor a sculpture,

i  am not the artist,

nor the muse.

i am an idea,

that exists

only

in your imagination

twist and turn
scream and burn
take a match to my mind
trapped
and still i yearn

you are the moonflower,
and the sweet fragrance
of night blooming jasmine.

the mysterious, magical beauty
of a single night.

It is the passionate night that holds you.

nothing lives forever,
not the stars scattered in the skies
nor the sadness reflected in your eyes.

hold my hand, blue flower.
hold my wistful heart
tangled and intimate
in our distant romance.

the oak trees rustling in the wind.
there is something cold in the air...
the fleeting bloom of the night's flower.

oh, flower of the night,
the night will never release you.

a solitary tear falls. I draw the shades.

This is not an exit
That what Brett Ellis said
In restaurant of conspirators
As the victims freely bled
The blood just keeps on pumping
Though they were slain
Months and years ago
For reasons half forgotten
Pushed down so far below
In the back alley
Or on Wall Street
The disconnection
Is the same
To remove what is not desirable
And make them take the blame.

Dustin's back in training
For Marathon Man 2
They've got him on the good stuff
Should be enough to see him through
They got Olivier in hologram
Roy Scheider too
A miracle of technology
And a load of fetid poo.