Cling like fire

Thunder echoes upon thunder.
Such sound and pulse over you.
Divine intent, yet we are human in the end.
This I Ching dependence and temporal space.
Leaves my bones aching.
My soul itching.
My wrists are heavy when the storm passes.
Bruised and smashed like the clouds hitting the heavens.
You are a warning, unfathomed and unheeded.
Striking the town and burning our souls.
This empress in the flames. The emperor on the throne.
Centering me and aligning such vivid thoughts.
Startled screams as you nervously laugh.
A future written in the fire.
There, so far away from now. *If you need to know the end.

The Last day of sanity

You burned the books. Too many pages and insights.
A paper mountain of truths you couldn’t climb.
Ripping out the hearts of those lonely men who confessed everything.
In unintelligible writing.
How you move through us now.
A pulsing fire like the sacking of Troy.
You leave them restless and weak.
Numbed by those empty regions of your mind.
There is a fire in Heaven tonight.
A blaze that the tears of angels could not extinguish.
Yet it floods down here on earth.
A holy water that washes everything clean, but you.
That fire above reflects in your velvet eyes.
An empty pit of pity, where not even the righteous can escape.
But you pay no mind, for there is no mind to offer.
Flashing snow white bones to all who see.
As you move through once more, the Helen of your own making.
Laughing, as the Heavens fall.

So central

This illuminating version.
Drifting.
Loving, only when the time is right.
When it’s uncalled for.
Who knew?
Who cared?
A scorched soul while the film played on.
And all roads led to the same.
Your heart curdled up tight.
Wearing out my mind.
Melting the plastic of the world we once inhabited.
Central now.
Gaining control of a need that was needed.
Crazy, only to know we were always driving.
Using our knees to steer.
Hoping to crash and burn.
In a beautiful, all consuming fire.
So central to our survival.

London burning

Heavy scented air, the smell of ash and autumn.
Of change brimming like a supernova.
To watch only, yet still participate; leaves me shaking.
That blood on the sky, smeared into a ruby rose.
It stains my eyes and heart.
I watch as London burns with a fire of sadness.
Of a past ignited into nothingness.
But I’m not looking for someone to blame.
Those flames lick like a consequence that is buried deep in my hands.
Red and scorched like god’s eyelashes.
Choking out the hope and happiness.
It rages on, bringing ruins to our appetites.
Finally snuffed out by huge holy tears.

Hunted

Are you haunted or hunted?
Crossing streams of inky despair.
Trying to slip away into the night.
A hunted animal.
Arrow marked and sought out.
It is not the jungle you wish to return to.
The scraping spires of the city is the one you hope to leave.
But they won’t let you be.
You’re a hunted animal.
Wiping tears on leaves as you run.
Putting out the forest fires.
But soon your heart tires.
Still hunted.

Particular illusions

To sleep under the stars, and to count the heavens.
A result of you burning my bed.
I lie on the cool grass and watch out for comets.
Racing from Olympus to Paradise.
I pulled off the ropes and entanglements.
Escaping with my life, but not my soul.
And now the clouds that cover the milky way.
Blotting out the moon.
Is just the smoke, from the ashes of our home.
Yet suddenly you appear, covered in moon dust.
With starlight diamonds in your eyes.
And you take my hand, and tip the sky over.
Shaking out the stars.
Promising me treasure to be found in our ruins.

Heroin(e)

Fire crack cackle in hushed shadows.
Little fingers about to be cut off.
What you say makes me shudder.
A creeping shiver left at the side of the bed.
A mind now full of kitty litter.
With the life looking and an ache to scratch.
Weakness, tossed out like surprise.
Sweetness that came in like a hammer to the glass heart.
Lick me up like spite, with a malice reduced down into silver spoons.
As I fall away from you.
And watch you choke on words and not loneliness.
It moves now in to post-blue passive aggressive.
Feeling the testosterone in our bones.
Angry, because you wanted it this way.
Embattled and emblazed with the world shouting us as well.
Waiting for the silence to once again smother our fires.

Cremate

Break these bones into splinters. Snap the spine and suck the sap.
Throw the pieces on the fire. Douse it all with distain and detriment.
Do not handle me with gloves on.
Touch me deep.
Treat me like a firework, ready to burn. Burning through like phosphors.
Strike the match on my skull. Crinkle and crack such emotions within.
Burning down to my heart, sending my soul to embers.
Floating into your lungs to dwell forever within.

Skylark – Soaring

You made this sky your own, clogging it with stars.
Oh sweet little bird, are you a phoenix in disguise?
Where have you gone, to light different skies?
I look for you always, in the midnight sun.
Hoping you’re no longer afraid of the dark.
Looking for that birdsong, to vibrate my own heart.
Aviate this dream of mine, deep in the feathers and down.
Peck it into reality.
And fly me to your moon.

Skylark – Soar

That sweet melody of promises you made to break.
From that little bird inside your heart.
As the daylight fades, it bursts into flames.
It’s burning wings signalling the setting sun.
Falling feathers that tickle my soul.
Oh little bird, where have you gone?
Out of the air and into the dark?
One day you will find me, your naked sky to soar within.
Scattering stardust in a different light.

Prelude to peace

What do you see in those darkening skies?
I clasp my hands to my eyes when the thunder cracks.
Are those tears, or just the rain on your face?
They never saw this storm coming, they dressed for sun that day.
The earth grieves and sighs. Spinning into another time.
Forever spinning on an axis no-one designed.
Vibrating in space, a billions miles of nothing in all directions.
Something changed. A fire was lit.
A swelling sea of distaste and rage.
The circus tiger tied to the ground for too long.
Chewing its leg off to escape.
Fires spread like a spark in the bush. Setting it all to sunder.
Setting things to rights.
Heaven will sigh and the sky will break.
The devil has had its day.
Tearing down the buildings, the houses on the hill.
A rebellion of love, shooting words that comfort.
All this pain, all this hurt; to wake up a nation.
Surviving the eye of the hurricane.
All this was a prelude to peace.

In September the Devil comes Dancing

Collaborations with Nara15blog

Crinkled veins that litter the ground.
My smile carved like a pumpkin crescent.
Circling the moon.
Laying down for September’s kiss.
A spiced potion that thickens my eager Heart, bone felt and embraced.

Store bought and rhinestoned.
A mask for a hideaway.
A little glint under the eyes to shimmer.
In the cooling sun’s blaze.

Turning on a dime in a year’s sigh.
Tiptoeing back in time.
Last year, to rival such memories.
365. What a year to be alive!

Smelling the dying throes of summer.
As the trees feign death,
In the rustic cinnamon crunch.
Planting poison ivy to creep through my vines.

In a day’s ramble bramble.
Tomorrow, today. Witch way? This way.
On the broom off to do mischief.
Open the door for October’s devils.
Felling my rooted heart, awash with treacle.
Filling my soul with black stars.
These tar-like sediments like shock treats to my mind.
To make me dance manic eyed.

Howling at the orange fire moon,
Silver bulleted like a ghost through gloom.
In ebony tricks.
In a bubbly brew fix.
Rotting my teeth from the roots.

Wicker man

What remains?
Human or emotional?
Like ghosts, they’re all surrounding me; sitting on my shoulder.
Pouring water and words into my head.
Sitting back and watching the sky bleed.
It’s a shame you grow up. A pity you learn to forget me.
This voice, so quiet and inaccurate, picking at my bones.
Causing havoc and happiness.
All happenstance?
Resurrecting the druids within me. Sweet pagan thoughts.
You swing on the gate to my heart, walking muddy shoes across my soul.
Planting monkey trees and memories in my mind.
Puzzling in this post-imaginative plantation.
Travelling with you, hand in hand to the cliff edge.
The red sky opens up as you whisper you miss me.
Ghost in my hand, spirits in my soul again.
Swallowing the sun forever.
Holding the torch up for you again, threatening to burn eternally.
My incomplete heart.
My Incandescent wicker man.

Lonely tree

In the forest, all alone.
My lonely tree feels as cold as stone.
Surrounded everywhere by branches.
That bend and twist to their own advantage.
We shake in the wind, and shiver in sadness.
Sunken in our disturbing madness.
Until one day you came into the woods.
Scared the animals and riding hood.
Yet the wolves they ran, and hid like rabbits.
Convoluted out of their own bad habits.
And into my glade you stepped so proudly.
And struck a match and yelled out loudly:
“Love is a flame that burns us under!”
And as quick as lightening, you lit me like thunder.
So my lonely tree, burned quick and sadly.
And I faded away, into death quite glady.

Hold on to me

You’re the one who comes between us.
Coughing out your IQ, slipping your hand behind the couch of the night.
Leaving me always chocking on your haemoglobin.
Shooting to the sky, and yet careful not to fall.
My eyes are wide, yet they scarcely see you.
The black of loneliness that you leave me with. Weightless and bare.
In the dark, it all looks the same; until you set me on fire.
Warming your hands until I burn to a spark.
Killing me before I get too old.
These words from you are too vulgar, yet I say thank you.
Breathing them in and setting up homes for them inside of me.
Precious fragile fragments of attention.
Your racing heart surprises me, and brings me back; brings me down.
Simmering into something else.
I come back to you in pieces.
Littering your soul.
I know you want to stop.

Set it all on fire

From the upcoming book ‘Drifting in and out sleep’

I threw away the key to my apartment, you kept yours; that’s fine.
They tell me every day it’s 2015. Do you realise that makes me nearly 33?
How do you stay sane, when all around you I push pins of chaos into your soul?
What if I were to leave, what if I were to stay?
What happened to that money that I gave to the homeless man at the station the other day. The one who told me the world was about to end.
If only he knew, for me it already has.
I’m putting all these things into a box, lifting the rug and pulling out old dusty forgotten pieces.
The smoke will get into your eyes as the box burns.
Old bits of flesh of a life and a heart too broken and now no longer needed.
You ask me who I am now, I tell you I’m the same person I was before.
You tell me who you think I am. That’s not the person you’ve been dealing with.
Someone true.
Burn this room, it’s got too many memories.