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
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…
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…
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.
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.
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 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.