Heaven is heartache

Heaven is heart ache

just beating in my chest

At least it’s still there

It gives me no rest.

I turned down a goddess in her underwear

just so I could play saviour

all my dreams made of paper

nightmares paper cuts

doomed to hear the words of sluts

Starving just to lap up leftovers up

I dream of being a hero

but I am fascinated by the villainess

the heroine is too much of a drug

I slug it out with my mind but depression is a thug

dominating my ever move

I love to dance but my song isn’t my groove

Self isolation sleeping beauty

Sleeping on a bed 
waiting for the world to stop it’s lockdown
you are a vision of beauty
waiting for this pandemic pandemonium to cease 
you didn’t eat a poisoned apple 
you just sleep,
waiting for the apocalypse 
or a prince’s lips to kiss
oxygen is hard to come by
and we can’t let you go 
you sleep, waiting for the virus to stop 
we give you a shot
of antibiotics. 

The nurses and doctors know
that you a few days left to show
whether you’ll recover 
your life and find a lover.

But this life is cruel and unfair
we love you
but you look back at us with a blank stare…

Atlas

It tares apart like paper
born from a saviour’s verse
The devil doesn’t mind, she makes it worse
I collect the curses
I recycle them like newspaper
rhetorical rhymes
in my life of grime.

I shine like the steeple of church
but I’d rather be the birch the trunk of a tree
for this a goddess induced reality
Wisdom causing minds full of incoherent clarity
I lose my faith wandering in garden labyrinths
the chances are we won’t find the goddess or her nymphs
or there chalices in the angles or angel absinthe
that we drink or think outside our boxes
so neat we feel no feeling in our defeat
yet we drink it all down
like sad pathetic clowns
in the pubs wearing our overalls and scrubbing away.

Polishing our lamps just to find genies or djinn
in our lives that our extraordinary and full of sin
yet we all fall beneath the skin
the earth full of mud and shit
the page half written is full of it
yet it feeds us and bears fruit
forms the roots of all we cultivate
for man is no man unless he has a little hate
and enough love to permeate
his sad heart
beating in tune to the bleeding womb
he wants to enter
another grand venture
trying to give his child
the wisdom of being wild
and free while they try to chain his children
with the care they placed on his shoulders
I love you Atlas don’t get tired
Or older the love that beats in your soul
don’t let the fire get colder…

Waiting for the girl in the fire

I have tried to keep my promises

I have tried to keep my vows

I have tried to keep my actions

I have tried to keep my course locked on you

I have held your voice in my head

when will it be my turn to save you instead

you the woman in the flames

on a throne of white light

I am desperate to fight

for the right to hold you in my arms

When will we speak with tongues unguarded

by the rules they have written

we all mean something to one another

Sisters and brothers

you are the word of love in my mouth

the song in my heart

you are the mornings light

the birds dancing mid flight

You told me you’d need me in the future

The flames descend from the sky

I am you and you are me

Yin and yang’s everlasting embrace

I know our soul cannot just die.

Mum

Your kind words guide me, your gentle hands wipe away my tears

you fight fiercely to protect me from all my fears

You are my mother the one who brought me into the world

No one can break the bond we have

Even through the bittersweet memories

and the many roles you fulfil

you looked after me through the many times I was ill

and I am a reflection of all the love you have shown

You were my only friend in times when I was alone

You encouraged me when I felt like breaking

you took me places to see the world and you made me awaken

You still tell stories and give me words to tell

Mum in my heart you will always have a space to dwell

You lighten the weight on my shoulders

You make me feel as if I can take on anything now I am older

Mum you are the one who has time for me even when life is cluttered full

you gave my life more joy than I can ever appreciate still.

The eternity ring

Of all the things that sting

is that I know your future life

It grates to know that I wait

for this is my last one

I am overcome with sadness I am undone

as we talk at cross purposes

What loneliness and hurt this is

I promised you that I’d wait for ever as your best friend

but love shatters like glass in the end

You are my mirror…

Andover ash tree stream

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

Her gardner’s hands

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…

Clown huntress

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.

Centrefold

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.