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.

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Beauty lost at the Heron house

The world collapsed in thirty seconds there.
A beauty aged in a moment while the rose petals died.
Who faded into the future, without the knowledge of the past?
We all did.
We came once to that spot, to watch the herons dance.
To see how they cast their wing’s against a backdrop of stars.
Through tears we watched them fly, soaring along our fingertips.
But we did not know, or care to wonder;
if they’d ever return.
And the days folded into years while the crows walked across our faces.
Milking our eyes into the blurred canvas before us.
Sight dancing into all but silhouettes.
What was destroyed there, at the Heron house?
Was it love? Was it power to hold in the wells of your hand?
Surely love never dies. Love always saves the day.
But beauty was lost forever there.
When it was valued more than gold, in hearts that feared to fly.

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.

The Star tonight

Deeply spun, sugar turn.
On this memory in my head.
Eating lotus flowers in the sun.
It never rains.
Now, the canvas is self-populating.
While the bees buzz like poets in despair.
Always on, like an evangelical station.
Trying. Try. Tried.
Succeed.
The greatest to ever awaken.
All sussed out and ready to shine.
Like the weekend every day, and Friday in his eyes.
He doesn’t even need to try.
They may forget him in a turn of the page.
The turn of the screw of humiliation.
But they cannot forget how he made them feel.
Leaving lotus leaves and petals on the floor.
Climbing back to heaven.

Jaws

Those words that flowered down in your skin.
Tickling like cancer.
A love that swelled like a harbour masters fear;
at the sight of storm.
You put this in me. I drank it in.
Siphoned off the flames like a bird of paradise;
flying towards the sun.
Down into the roots of your stomach.
Innocence searching, now lost in moments just begun.
Borrowed, broken. Black and blue.
Rubbed off skin, down to the truth and bone.
Hold me in your jaws, feel the juicy love between.
Swallow me.
Tastes like goodness.
Tastes like emptiness.
For in the morning, I am gone.

Extirpate

Shivering into this new world.
Of a day broken over me like the sunshine egg yolk of realisation.
That an absence now fills this room.
A void as cold as winter, that settles into these bones.
Reborn into a version of such violence and void that my head aches into grey.
And my heart, slips away; into adjustment.
You folded us into memory.
A slight of hand that speaks with a voice of your reasoning.
Echoing now in my ears.
And my tears will turn to chalk.
While the plants die all around me.
A fate that flutters on my lips, like butterflies trapped in conservatories.
Glancing at the world around, yet smashing again and again against the glass.
Yet still you toil and dig at the weeds of my entanglement.
That curled around you like a summer’s blanket.
And you sheer, and slice.
Digging hard at my roots. Killing me a thousand times over.
Praying I rot away and turn into time.

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.

Pluck

As a prelude to a harvest.
Of beautiful heads and slender stems.
Comes the bloom of life.
The rotting of the old to be buried out by the tree.
The one which hangs heavy in winter.
Topped by snow and sad inclination.
Each flower a moment in time.
Spun forth from destiny on tiny fingertips of the forgotten.
Names not to be held in the mouths of the mortal.
You pluck the rose from the marrow,
and gaze into the eyes of beauty.
While it slowly wilts into time.

Funeral bliss

Though the day was cold, the hearts were warm.
Burning like a desert isle.
Gold teeth chattered, catching the light and chewing on well-worn stories.
They plundered the past like pirates.
Each memory a jewel.
Each story a fable.
Colour struck you in the face as the reds and yellows paraded the town.
And as they lowered the body down.
An empty coffin. The flesh had fled hours before.
The soul only lingered out of curiosity.
Enamoured by the tulip dance on the telephone wires.
Long distance.
A shuffling then of souls still breathing
Their own bones twitched to jazz beats and sweet treats.
The partying departure for a man long since dead.
What covering could convey how they felt?
A cotton candied coat to keep him warm in death.
The tiny pebbles they had collected, each one dipped in honey.
Sheltering the coffin in rocks and shells.
No one spoke of goodbyes.
No one’s eyes released a cry.
As the stars above collapsed into fireworks.
And they dyed the sky.

Raining underwater

Underneath. Down here where it’s still.
Where the black beauty of the abyss flitters at my feet.
All is quiet.
I’m entombed as in a coffin.
Locked forever in my own space with the promise of ever after.
And then you came.
Pelting my world.
Hurtling across like a comet in my stretching blue sky.
You bring the change, flourishing open like a new season.
Calling sub-oceanic flowers to bloom within me.
Aquatic forest firs that reach up to touch the surface.
My hands branch to catch the light you dazzle.
A sudden rush you instil like heroin bubbles my blood.
Coming up too soon, bending my compression that has kept my heart safe.
A fish not born to fly with you, where the birds and angels soar.
Now it rains under water, puddling the pool of the sea that parts us.
And I drift in the stream of sorrow.
Knowing the rain on the surface, are really your tears.

Efflorescence

Do you feel the change in weather?
The heart beating for the very first time.
Get down on the ground and listen to the soil.
The trumpeting pound of nature’s pride.
Beating like a dominance in my body.
Listen to my flesh as the drum beat breathes and sighs.
You turn a seasons within, devoid of the frost of winter.
Bathed in only the crystal glaze of summer.
Always sunny when you look my way.
A twice look biscuit fire that scorches my soul.
But I do not burn, I bloom.
Mesmerised and polarised in the dew drops of your joy.
The pounding of the flowers in the spring of your step.
Thump as the earth shakes.
Gasp with each breathe.
Gardening in twilight as you sleep when I wake.

Outward ink

Where do you go, when the anger shows?
The pulsing in the veins.
Threatening to tear the skin.
I close my eyes. I need such protection.
My blood is as thick as oil, and my heart as black.
Why do the things you say splinter me?
Rising my inner mercury.
My hands vibrate to sonic sound.
Angels crying, and a war in heaven.
The fury felt through a thousand decades.
Torn from the very books that celebrate such divinity.
These thoughts and callous kisses close in.
Peeling back my lips to bare these well-worn teeth.
The bones break and shift.
Ascending my temples as you try to look away.
But look deep within this life.
Into these blackening pools of my eyes.
Do any of us win?
Struck skin and nitroglycerin on the tongue.
Blossoming florets of purple that do not smell sweet.
They only anaesthetise me in an opium blur.
Sending my skull into the floor.

Heavy like clouds

Rough stone, as cold as our hearts that hurt.
Weathered by the life we chose. Dropped into the pool of time.
Weighing down. Hard like bones in our stomach.
From the meaty dreams devoured in youth.
Rain upon a fertile mind, where the weeds and willows weep.
And where cacti bloom in the drought of purity.
Our own selves, no longer true as a shadow of regret reminds;
that we’re locked and dying in the jaws of time.

Unearthed design

These dreams that held you, turned you over in time.
Made you everything but mine.
They smell like morning peonies, precious symphonies align.
You found the bones of a long lost soul, turned up in the tide of your blood.
Washed away in monsoon floods.
Seeing if your veins could fly, coughing dandelions and mud.
Crack this dream like and egg, stitch up the wounds that never heal.
Stretch it over the world.
Pulled into another paradigm.
Live now for those golden days of charm, pulled out deep from the mire.
Throwing us both on the pyre.
Setting your soul on fire.
Then leave all this decay behind.

Orbitam lunae in caritate

(Moon love in orbit)
Abound and in the air.
Tied down for fear of flying.
Skim you clouds like a shuttle into space.
Rattling past like a shooting star.
You take me higher.
Coughing out an atmosphere.
Pulling through your gravity to dance like moon daises,
turning towards the sun.
That face of you, eclipsing my world.
Suffering craters so gladly.
My new lunar religion.

Bloom

Creak and crack around the edges.
Let the dust and lust fall into the sky.
I spread my skin, hiding the unsightful scars.
Dazzling instead with my peacock stance.
These petals of purity, grown forth from a rugged soil.
Dance into the sunlight, coaxing ruby and daffodil stares.
Split open this mouth and allow words to flow.
Sweet like a mountain stream.
Coursed through volcanic changes of thought.
Letting you kiss my lava lips that sting your tranquil waters.
Turn my tale towards the sun, picked like photosynthesis on evolution’s hide.
What grows there they will chatter.
The borning out of terror-former.
Shocked out of a system that was impaled in the past.
Growing new delights to tantalise and snap.
Around this Venus.
Be on your guard and handle with gloves.
This thorny rose delivered from Eden.

Sending myself flowers

When the universe rests, and slumbers in my mind.
And all around me is still.
I take this chance to apologise.
For who I have become. For who I wanted to be.
An apology for me.
Within these cracks and slithers of my soul.
That remain unfettered to moral decay.
I brush the hurt away. And send myself flowers.
Hoping to turn over those leaves, and find you.

Sleep will wait

And all these little thoughts, the ones that take you away;
will rest on my shoulders, like your head full of flowers.
Heavy and soft.
Those airplane moments, in transit between these states.
Will come down in time, and wait.
Rose coloured sheets, and trouble ahead the neon threatens.
Unless I’m me. Unless this is us.
Safe and worth coming home to.
Such original sensualities. Laughing over sexuality.
Kisses over cornflakes and coffee cups.
If you need time, I don’t mind. I like where this is heading.
Risking, and whisking me away as you hold onto this.
Tied up in ribbons of joy that we walk between, as we walk over;
sheets of snow and sun kissed wonder.
Goodbye foolish fear. So long picesaen uncertainty.
Adieu gemini fairy tales done before.
Take my hand and dance with me on the tip of this strange lunar day,
flying high above the earth in black feathers.
A place which we must return but where sleep can wait.