Persistence of the unforgetting

Sunken deep like forgotten wrecks.
A hate that broods, contorts and flex.
This grudge is old and just like oil.
Black with time, and within me coils.
Staining my soul with its heartless rind.
Unforgotten, despite the passage of time.
But time has come to break the bond.
That swirling hole, that stagnant pond.
I will no longer give food to the beast.
It is to the wolves, I throw this feast.
A stinking blood drool of unwanted flesh.
Cut from my heart, and so refreshed.
Then wrap a tourniquet of letting go.
And hope in that hole, some love will grow.

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Bloom

A soured state, a love now broken.
Hearts that shatter in words unspoken.
This picture fades, the joy demolished.
A hovering shadow of malice and gloom.
Bringing me the flowers once promised.
For underneath these bruises do bloom.

Flowers for Harold Jones

Sunken, like thoughts of survival.
Down deep where the waters darken.
A purple bloom that summons your winter.
We lay the flowers over you.
Hoping the petals rot into your bones.
Bringing a colour and beauty, to your sweet decay.
The irises glisten still in your eyes.
Reflecting a dull glimmer, from the hospital sad fluorescence.
Your golden sparkle, now alchemized to ruby red.
We’ll cast your soul out on a sea of lilies.
Keeping your head above the serpentine reef.
Floating above those sunken ships of youth.
And poppies will adorn our flesh.
Pricking and pinching our skin.
Remembering the pain you were in.
As the opium tickles our minds.
And we see you laughing, once again.

The Flowers of revolution

Have you seen?
God’s opportunity.
Inside psalms which scratch your heart.
Voices so strong they stabilise heaven.
Disappear and discover that new challenge.
Which calls you higher.
You remember the way I fell.
I remember your outstretched healing hands.
It’s my only reference point now.
Blooming the songs and suspicions in my mind.
How could you be so sincere?
This imagination comes alive and shakes me.
My snow globe mind.
And in mind of my defence, I used to not believe.
Your simple kiss changed that.
And shook me deep.
These flowers I now weep.

Pieces

Pieces float in the blood.
A crimson river, drawing up to space.
Flowers smashed into oblivion.
Only to remain. As particles of dust.
Floating inside you.
Dusting your eyelids and tainting your tongue.
Lilies and lilacs lifting into a dream.
Lifting in the pulse and throb of the heart.
Blooming in particles while they orbit your organ.
That heaves and struggles to understand.
The demise of such beauty.

Weeds got there first

The walls ached with their knowledge.
While the eyes of the portraits licked across the skin.
Of all those souls who dwelled within.
And even this was barely acknowledged.
For life climbed up to the ceiling.
Wrapped around each feeling.
And slithered and slunk under skin.
But the sun had its day, and blistered the wallpaper.
Bringing tears to the eyes of the young.
Who wished to bury the sun.
In the deep soil of their souls.
The petal parts and the pith.
Of the flowers and the myth.
Of which we cannot control.
And the house still stands, and the grounds still shudder.
Promising a life, unlike no other.
That blooms and ebbs like the stretching seasons.
And climbs to heaven, for most godly reasons.
To meet the maker, and the cultivator.
Basking like the wheat in the field.
Forgetting the devil, and his own dry thirst.
Ignoring that the weeds got there first.

Thorned love spined

I found myself reaching for you.
Closing the gap between half worlds away.
Pulling space into my back pocket.
Keeping god under my gums.
You pull away and shake off the stardust.
Tugging the thread of the religion we wove.
Spinning out like the solar system.
Cutting me like thorns.
Yet beauty always seems to dance in the distance.
Unobtainable like the rings around Saturn.
Like the rose, once plucked will swiftly start to die.
So I will not house you in glass jars.
Or swirl you inside me like marbles in time.
You can bloom and fade on your own as I watch from a distance.
Seeing Saturn return into space.
Remembering how sweetly you smelt that summer’s day of mine.

Flowers behind glass

The door to this heart hangs heavy.
Swinging on the ideals of the irrational.
Breathe on this skin, and watch the gold paper flutter.
Lick it down to keep it in place.
They once planted flowers above my head.
Placed little stones over me to mark this grave.
The place where lonely hearts came to die.
Decaying like the rotting buds of spring.
Within, they did not care to ignite.
You touch me but once, and electrify this process.
Kissing me with an electron blue.
Now, as the rains cover my earth, deep within I begin to bloom.
You never left, you stayed to watch the blossoming.
Feeling the florets in you rose petal hands.
And now they watch, behind glass and a stretch of time.
Only snapshots of a love divine.
Walled away and tempered.
While you pick these roses, without thorns.
And garden all through the night.

Hurry this nirvana

How long had you been sleeping?
In a pool of your own happiness.
Licking the chops of the beasts that sleep.
How anointed of you, to kiss my sandalwood feet.
To stare into the eyes of god and see nothing.
To see only stars, being born again and again.
Your skin cracks and bleeds rose water.
These eyes that tighten with every word from your lips.
Coughing up daises, pulling the leash you keep the world on.
They’d love to hate you.
Sneaking just a peak at your tolerance.
Dousing everything in oil and honour.
Lighting little fires in the dark pools of their souls.
Divine is defined by your existence.
Regret is stained by your ghost.

Checkers and chess

How to topple the king which wears the crown so royally.
Moments and magnesium fill the place of diamonds and gems.
Wrapped in much Fools gold.
And the crown heaves down, rubbing red and raw.
Check
A life long lived with much regret.
Check.
How we turn the heels and fled.
To learn a life in which to lead, we watch the others.
Little eyes through holes in fences.
A voyeuristic violation, into their little galaxies.
That swirl and sway like the black in the white.
Changing from dismay, into delight.
And you take this horse by the reigns, and lead me through the forest.
Through the clearing of my ill begotten ways.
Out of the woods, out of the storm.
Peppering poppies that fill my lungs with such poisonous perspective.
And show me.
That I had been asleep all this time.

Beyond the edges of reason

How did they pluck the flowers of me?
The budding explosion of perfume and pride.
Each one pushed through such dark deep earth.
The soil and shit of a life in this age.
With their eyes they take.
With their hands they snatch.
Groping and tearing at the petals of my mind.
To say the tears watered the earth, sullens those drops so innocent.
Muddies the pools in which my heart swims within.
So I keep them out.
I fence it in.
Planting pansies in the mouth of the weeping willows.
Building the trees tall that they reach up to heaven.
Where I can make my escape.
To plant fresh seeds in the lunar lawns of eternity.
Alone and content, to watch it all from space.