Dedicated to the discarded
I apologise to those discarded phrases
who in invoking themselves in a furious moment
were only to be crossed out, barred and abandoned
each letter was so important
yet in questioning each word
criticising each thought, I saw too
many imperfections to be fixed
like a boat with too many holes
there were simply too many plugs
and so I had to let it sink
I’m sorry for my harshness and laziness
I couldn’t save you from your creator
who couldn’t live with her imperfections.
The man eater
The man-eater
sucks upon the juices
savours the aroma
of bewilderment
by beauty
The game is played
to her advantage
the pressed flesh eroticism
stench evident upon
the mind of the toy
She devours
peeling away
the flesh exposing
layer upon layer
bones, organs
and finally
the heart
which she places still beating
upon the trinket-laden
charm bracelet
crowded by scattered hearts
of willing victims
she smiles.
A fallen angel
The joyful angels
clearly and precisely
proclaim their destiny
a distinct path lit before them
each step enlightening the heart
my joyful angels how you make me laugh
I wish to fly in your eternal happiness
I cannot feel your love
nor share in your joyful abandon
for my joyful angels, I fear I have fallen.
Coming of age
Gathering the years over time
redressing the innocence
becoming less like a child and more like death
inevitable meanderings trap and pull
into well-worn tracks
we become like everyone else
and less like ourselves
Wise beyond our years
improvisation is a circulated falsehood
a mythological ideology created from nothing
a belief I nothing creates an emptiness
this illness of life kills the presence of the soul
disjointed thoughts make you forget
remember to forget yourself
The coming of age
brings so much and very little
the laughter mocks the tears of frustration
the sobs ridicule the waves of happiness
tender is the touch which pounds the flesh
the physical slap makes things real
remember to make life real.
Wishbone
There is a wishbone stuck in your throat
it sits lodged between your vocal cords
amazingly it does not hamper your voice
in fact, it creates your voice
With every breath, you inhale desirously
ambition to replenish your want for success
The Wishbone absorbs your breath the split bones
two halves pluck you chords
not choking just your voice singing
with the expectation of ongoing expression
Such is the mysterious awe of the performance
the wish expressed through your voice.
A season of light
Do you remember the night of summer lightning?
when the seasons changed
thundering humidity clashing upon itself
to create thick droplets of rain
we sat under the umbrella stars
under the talking sky
we spoke of faith and faithlessness
as the world shifted around us
we dreamed of what could be
and took a moment with us
the restless nature of the storm
we did not worry about the future
we were happy to have our passion
the rain is cleansing the moment before winter.
The same blood
You can be red raw and still sing your song
You can have tears in your eyes and still tell your story.
The truth is where the tale lies
You cannot or should not wait to share it.
The emotion will help you to connect with others
Because everyone can see,
understand and communicate
with feelings
So don’t be afraid to bleed onto the page.
We all have the same blood in our veins.
