Red #1: Red rain

Clumsily those bones broke.
Splintered and collapsed in the red rain.
An aching for all the world to see.
They want to give you cartoon kisses.
They want to trap your ghost.
You drag it all to the city limits.
Where there was once a river that used to run.
Under blue skies and summer sun.
Now the red rain washes only into your eyes.
Crimsoning your view of the outskirts.
What really is that thorn in your side?
What turned your bones to chalk?
You sit down by the apple tree, dyed a ruby red.
Nursing the self-made scratches.
Covering up the scars.
Who became you inside, when you true self fled?
Hanging your head is too easy, so raise it to the sky.
Push the bones back in place, silently cry in pain.
Wait for the flood.
From the sweet divine red rain.

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Spurning

A crease at first, swathes of folds.
Swan feather skies reaching into your skin.
A rip in the sky setting the heavens loose.
Pouring over the world.
You dragged the stars over the equator.
Eclipsing the gold flashes of sunken treasure.
Yet the tears felt dry, and the time faded once more.
You are out sync. You disconnect.
Turning to face the sun once more.
Raising your hands to heaven.
Crying once again in the red rain.

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.

Broken blossoms

Heady vacant leaves blow in from the past.
Caught in the teeth of wisdom.
The coldness of a touch, when war has begun.
Leaves all but the strong shaking.
A flattening of houses and trust that was built.
Crumbling and grumbling in the ruins of despair.
Who takes you there?
To the banks of a river now black like tar.
Awash with the rubbish and junk of petty squabbles.
This fighting is good for only the undertaker.
Who buries our souls and dignity at night.
When no-one is watching to see the sad failure of hope.
A scab of regret will build and tower over this land;
this heart, and this space we’ve placed ourselves in.
The devil lines the walls with sickly cement of apathy.
Only god can peel it back and flick away the decay.
Letting the scars heal in the light and air of tomorrow.
As we bathe in holy water and the tears of trying.

This decision is mine

Try not to breathe, don’t let them see the fear in your eyes.
Trap those voices in formaldehyde, while you hope to swim away.
Try not to cry, they have never even thought of escaping.
Trapped in a prison of smiles, and a thicket of shadows.
You are the deer, so close to the earth.
They are the rocks that they sometimes throw.
Hoping to hit, scrape and bleed you.
Try not breathe, they will never hear through the distance you speed.
Crashing through the forest of fears.
Rising into the light.
Leaving tears in your path, only for the years you wasted.

Drenched departure

Untied the silence while the rain came.
Blanketing this world is a quiet monsoon.
Layering and prevailing over me, and all I see.
Let it seep into those muddy bones.
Washing everything. Purify and personifying a state of being.
Fresh like holy water.
Stinging the sins like acid.
Drown and choke underneath those silent waters.
A vast tide that you wash over me.
Those days that were always numbered.
The borrowed time and delicious decay of it all.
How sour those words met my mouth when I asked you to leave.
Tying my tongue into confused states.
Separate states and traumatic time zones.
The flight into a new world where the clouds coughed around me.
And the skylarks sung our demise.

Tears in time

Shake.
The earth quivers and the sky falls like tears.
Every time you cry.
Like a rip in the fabric of life.
A scar on time.
When you break.
My inner messiah bleeds.
Red like your anger. Frozen like your defeat.
Held in my arms like dust.
Blowing in the hurricane.
Your pieces land on my heart.
Cutting me deeper.
Falling.
Collapsing to the floor like broken bones.
When you cry.
The hairline break takes hold.
Breaking your wings.

Burning the circus down

A sweet parade that rolls in from somewhere we’ve both known before.
The turpentine love is everywhere, seeping into cracks we thought we’d patched and sealed.
Flags are flying that signal everything from alarms to the falling of arms, a serenade of surrender.
A day like any other.
Your friend’s gather, ready to pick up what has been sold over to you and to count the spoils of war.
Those that revel in you acquired freedom, ready to fuck the victory.
Your eyes are all over, counting faces and seeking out the wrong to fall head into.
The fanfares begin and the lions roar their procession of emotions.
I stand in the middle, decorated in the best I can be. My hair out of place and my heart in my hands.
The crowd cheers, the revolver found its way so quickly into your hands.
Placed by someone, or there all along?
The pump from the heart and the blood gushes out, red and chunks of blackness: by-products of the ego.
You eyebrows raise, the ‘I knew’ mask covers your face to a perfect fit.
The music dies, and I run. The death of me will not come from your fingertips.
You find me in the forest, my secret place. God you know me too well.
Kissing their lips you kill me over and over in a million heartbeats.
Then I’m alone.
Fumble in my pockets for the ticket, an emotion or a cry for help.
But the circus has left town.
Yet unknown to me, it burned to the ground.
You stand there smoking.
All I’ll ever be.