I already said I loved you

I already said I loved you

I already read the words

I already looked for answers

in the sky your heart and the free flying birds

I already grasped for your hand

I already whispered to your soul

I already took the plunge

but fell short of my goal

I already spent days with you

I already kissed your cheek

I already have your voice in my head

I already am that mad every week

the loss of you spiralling and making me sad

the chances are we will never meet again

but I am glad we were once close

I already thought about it already is my ghost…

A manual for being human

Exit womb

enter hospital room

feed of your mums breast

grow big and strong

play and learn

have an active imagination

listen to the voice that guides you

and makes the most sense

write your story present tense

find beauty in what you like to do

it’s that simple

Make your smile into dimples

don’t focus on looks

it’s your soul being tempered

by life’s fires

give it what it wants

you can change the narrative even if it’s the font

remember people love you even if life gets in the way

be a compassionate friend to yourself first

You look at me with eyes that don’t remember

In your eyes the tragic reminder

that memories fade

into the void

and get destroyed

I loved you more than my heart conveyed

though time is a blade

it cuts out the good and bad

memories or leaves scars

the stars that aligned

now fate has mined

and we with left separated when we should have been entwined.

I miss the days

I miss the bad days

the way you hate me

your words reverberate around my head

we are still in conversation

though in my imagination

sex and beastly claws

the way you wanted more than I could give

I cannot live

without thorns a rose wouldn’t be a rose

I am torn our love wasn’t really love without pain

I am just a blood stained hand holding on

a rose

it’s thorns like all your angry words cutting through skin

love is a tragedy we are all flawed within

yet romantic attachment

when it works

can heal the heart and make it beat like it’s going berserk.

The Emergency Poet

The feel of the pen

on the paper

the poet grabs a verse.

the dripping of morphine

the flow of endorphins

flow of electronic lines

across the monitor

let’s hope we don’t flatline

this mere mortal

needs a portal to the stars

this mere mortal needs

defibrillation to the heart

the way the poetry forms

in the lungs and the mind

the way life needs beauty

is sometimes unkind

I am the blood transfusion

the illusion

of poems

bells chime

Electrons flow

Radioactive X-rays know

Poetry opens doors

I am the emergency poet

I will take flight

in flames

never shall I be tamed

But I will make that heart beat

and get you out of your seat

And on the road to recovery

and discovery

Because poetry heals

and steals back our songs

what could go wrong?

Orpheus

Orpheus

A beautiful poet singing beautiful poetry

oh no…

lost your wife

went to hades with your life

made king hades and Persephone shed a tear

and let you in

Resolved to rescue your beautiful dead wife

but you would fail

When you turned back she fled back into hade’s shades

destroyed by love

destroyed by love and loss

pray to the sky that you will meet her again

but love is just beautiful blood stain

and what we are is merely blood, fire and dust and a soul.

In this aching

In this aching

waking dream we live in

I love you is hardest thing to mean

I wait,

but waiting has no solace

my heart I polish for you

but will the stains wash out?

I won’t doubt you are worth it.

Reaching me through the void

and shadows

I cried out to you when they held me down

In the A and E ward I told them who you were

But like big cats don’t always purr

you are something to be worshipped

glorified and feared

If perfect love has no fear

it is love that has been realised

and actualised

I wait in the shadows

dancing in the dark

love is the flames not just the spark

to light my way…

Humanity

People like little rivers and tributaries

flowing to the sea

entwined in words with faces dripping in kisses

but I sometimes wonder about what the eye misses;

contact between humans

sometimes we go bone dry because of the shyness of our eyes

which flow with tears

with our fears

which ravage our souls with plastic aspirations

and metallic and jewelled frustrations

has the black phoned mirror stolen our souls?

Or is the water the constant flow of love enough to water our souls?