Angels! Angels! Hear me!
My destiny lies elsewhere, my
Lies lies far beyond these shores,
Far beyond their comprehension;
Angel! Angel! Please descend!
My painted face and frozen lakes
Summon no companions, shapes
No future: backwards the sight,
Backwards the mind of one
Abandoned and obliterated
By She who wore three faces;
Angel of my prayers – hear me.
Hear me and respond.
Hear me and go beyond
These shores and show me
Where my destiny lies,
Where I can find my answers –
Or my perpetual bliss.
Poetry Drafts
Kneeling Noon
Is there ever love at dusk,
As the blue moon rises
Above abandoned treetops;
As dawn breaks without echoes
Of birdsongs once composed
In a garden forever green
By a gardener no longer loving;
As noontime kneels and bows
To the whims of the final few
Sighs of abandonment: her love
Protruding; her shadow
A high tide
In moonlight.
Is there ever love
At dusk,
At dawn,
Or at her kneeling noon.
Shadow Spaces
Her desire chiselled upon him:
Sandpiper-coloured streaks
Across snow-clad clouds;
Dancing and bouncing along
A sandy street: grained beached
Treats of goldfish, pale blue
Piercing eyes, and tannoy laughter.
Her dreams like maternal mallets,
Likes knives through butter-
cups and butter-
flies and beeswax
Sweethearts: irresistible,
(Incongruous)
Escapee,
Free, free, free!
– Until pinioned.
Her thoughts, like bell-blue streaks
On four starless walls of solitude;
No shadows fall where
Shadows form –
Breathe-only
Spaces.
Blackened Fists
I think the universe is telling me
Something:
To give up or give in to what it sees
Inappropriate;
A van rested
For three whole years;
Three years without tender love
Or care; the turning of the key
Like death without echoes left
Me wanting: escape from this hell
Of ideas and random
Implementations.
Blackened fists changing source
Of power and of power and
FFS please release; and the tears
Fell, and the fears … ah FFS —
Crowbar and plank and F battery
Gave way to empty space, hurray
But but and Oh FFS …
The loaded and charged source
Of power, unable to turn the F
Engine: a bang and a bang
And so the fuse blew blew blew
and the air turned blue.
And so this simile came to be,
Unlike a metaphor I swear it be
Truthful and void: I’m gonna
Scrap this F*ng van,
Like an offering
To the universe.
Pastrami on Toast
I slice your insincerity like pastrami
To cover my buttered toast;
The orange juice, the fresh brew
Left untouched.
I grate your cheese, lactose-free
Lies upon lies upon piles piled
Beyond our safe zone; fake phones
And purged porn drape our doors.
I toss the remnants of every us
Down the drain revolving;
Not recycling our dead dreams
Of an inconceivable infinity.
I slice my last days into slivers
Of meaning, glyphs into characters
Forming words of wonderment
Equally spaced into sentences,
Purposely punctuated
Into paragraphs of paranoia;
I keep on digging deep
The hole of my final escape.
Illiterations
Would you consider me illiterate
If I only spoke the basics,
The daily dose of :(
With the occasional :)
Would you consider me illiterate
If I never spoke emoji,
Screamed in agony:
‘Those fxxxxxg images are too small
For me dying eyes, too similar, too
Undefined to convey common
Understanding’
Would you consider me illiterate
If I never spoke of love
And a future where there was a we,
A wee we emojiing
Without understanding why
In Tempest Dawn
Thoughts flickering like candles
In tempest dawn, monsoon morning
Rising stiffly; prescription pills
And thoughts flickering, running
Down empty lanes of lunacy;
Searching?
Unfounded lies listening?
Silence, as long as silence…
There is peace!
Silent mysteries? & thoughts
Listening. Shhhhhh!
I light another pipe,
Another nocturnal pondering
On the unwavering winds
Of change, and on thoughts
Flickering.