Andover means ash tree stream
The ash tree was said to be the tree of life
we are born from its ashes.
Andover ash trees
Rising from the Ash trees
we are the dust
from those trees
the first man and woman rose from the ashes
maybe we were born in the fires
of dead worlds
every boy and every girl
are Phoenix souls
Time may pick her locks
moths eat her frocks
and her splendid looks may fade
but she will still hold my heart
like the spark of her voice
hangs like an echo in the Everglades
in Elysium fields her flowers grow
Only the roses know
the gardeners hands
we nurture the voice we want to hear
even if it is the one we fear
we grow all of what we know
I loved her so
but I was fearful of losing
the ghost of her out of my head.
For if I lose her voices dulcet tone
I will be truly left alone…
The circus mirrors gives her the shivers
Her lips begin to quiver
She hates clowns
and her frown
turns into bestial snarl.
her cheeks flash red
all she can think of is blood instead
and meat
Which she wants to eat
as her hairs stand on end
and are caught by electric instincts
her teeth become sharp and canine
and eyes shine an unnatural shade
as her body begins to rearrange
her spine tingles
her coccyx sprouting out of behind
A now wagging tail
Her feet bursting through her dainty shoes
her arms begin to flail
she is in shock but somehow it feels right
those clowns will get it
they will not live to regret it
growling at the mirror at her reflection
her skirt tearing at the seams
full moon screams turning into growls
then a howl
As her body is exposed
this is what the crystal ball
and fortune teller said
“when the moon becomes blood red
you will see what you are in the distorted mirrors and be fed”
As she smashes the mirror
drool dripping from her tongue and teeth
the werewolf released
from her human cage
to rage against those foolish clowns.
Are you as warm and inviting as your picture?
your eyes inciting, emotion
yet a photo is cold to touch
as offers so little, not as much
as a warm hand
and a offer to understand.
You demand attention
with your style and made up grace
But i long to touch a real face
and place my lips on hers
but am not sure
that you’d like me if we met
chances are you and I would regret
see life and love are built on tender moments of time
spent drifting into conversation
not living in frustration
of meeting a lingerie clad model
life is not that kind of movie
But feel free to prove me wrong
with a character to match those looks
maybe I should just keep my head in my books
what could I offer you
but my dreams and poetry all the while
after all I struggle for style and grace
and where your face is pretty
I am ugly and with a worn out smile.
Given the gift
of sight
we fight and wrestle
nestling
in escapism
but it’s a prison.
she is out there
Sophia the goddess of wisdom
she spoke to me when I was 7
now I am nearly 37
I hear her voice
like yin and yang
Speaking her words to me
Am I just hearing things?
Is my mind just broken and in a sling?
Or am I just another author with a gift?
You ask the devil why she can’t save the world
the silence is wounding.
It betrays
slays the meaning,
driven home.
Is god into much of a coma
to answer from his throne?
Alexandria defender of man
The woman who said she was the devil
Who won’t reveal her pain
Only the scars on her wrist
All you needed to save the world was love
Like the scars told me.
I sit and think of you
Our dates
The courting
the tender kisses
the way you are my Mrs
Our children and the way they’ve grown
the loneliness of our divorce
then I realise it’s all my mind
we haven’t even known each other that long
but in my head our connection our bond
makes we want to belong
in your life
even if it’s just fantasy lived in 10 mins
I feel like I could live a lifetime in your eyes
dreaming under starry skies.
The villain
I am so nasty
people stand aghast
I am so bad
you feel a draft
on a summers day
murderous glances pave the way
I am sick, I am ill
babe with every hero it’s a battle of wills
I am so abrasive
I am like invasive surgery
I am so evil I burn bibles and call it purgatory
the devil herself could learn from me
I want pounds of flesh so burn with me
I am deathly shade
stalking the sun
I am the nightmare
in the night you run
I am evil
I told you to die
but chances are you’re petrified
I am so dishevelled
I make Darth Sidious look sprightly
Sith Lords can’t fight me
With just one flick of my fingers
and death lingers
I am psychologically deranged
so psychopathically strange
you wondered if I was ever sane
I just got back from Frankenstein’s lab
I killed the hulk yes I am that strong and bad
I framed Sherlock Holmes
and made him into an heroin addict
cause all my plays our that strategic
I even cheat death
in fact I own Azrael’s blade
I am villain, the one you crave.
Knotted fingers
this love lingers
on the tip of my tongue
in the inner workings of my heart and on
this is love that makes me strong
which binds me to the earth
and fosters rebirth
I look at the stars they shine for us both
for its you I love the most
and one day you will feel
the love that will make me kneel
this love which is real.
There is kindness here if you can keep it in mind
there is sadness, remorse and discourse
that signals just how much I love you
However I walk in daylight and the rain
and it falls us both no ones to blame
in this labyrinth we have created
love blossoms in your absence
and yet you are with me in the movements of the trees
which seem to be watching me
and the leaves dance to your voice
or am I deluded I have no choice
but to believe.
The story we have weaved
like the rope that we marks our way
you are the light to my day
in the river your tears fall
I die in the labyrinth
calling your name on the wind
Hoping that you will hear it someday
my body decays
but memory stays
in your third eye
can love resurrect? Can it comply?
what was love but hope of your stay
in my heart forever you are with me I pray
for your speech echos in my head
this body but bone skin and sinew
I am lost in my monologue
I end where you begin I begin where you end
the last message I will ever send.
By Dan Hooks AKA Alienpoet