Wounds

Inherently loved, unheard; yet felt so deep.
Who believes in wounds unseen?
Those wounds, where the light enters.
The scars that are maps to wonderlands.
Whispers of nightmares that generate only in the darkness.
What matters to them, is what matters to me?
Dreams die before they have to.
Bruised into understanding.
Are the places where the flowers grow.
Shiny eyes and metal hearts.
Soft brains torn apart.
Stitched back together by beautiful lies.
Wounds that seep, that darkness deep.
A gold to the soulless who wish to stay rich.
Forgiveness flies on the back of dark doves.
Heading out to sea to die.

Rush

Humbled, caught in such rapture.
Clinging to joy like a root to a tree.
No longer myself, yet loved still.
Understanding fate’s anatomy.
Chaos now silenced, calm like a church.
We pray in the days that unfold.
Burning them fully like candle wicks of life.
Threatened each day by the wind that is blowing.
From mouths that don’t know how to kiss.
How to love.
Let the world caress, and slice you deeply.
Allowing the wonder-kind to slip in.
Soaking in the blood, underneath your skin.
For these are days of letters unsent.
Of feelings unkempt, not knowing how to unfold.
Now time is falling like sand in a jar.
Borrowed, like a promise never meant to be kept.
And tomorrow is never guaranteed.

The Age

This is the age of collapse.
Of a despair and relapse.
Into ways that god can’t comprehend.
This is the age of not knowing.
Of care and bestowing.
To strangers in need of pretend.
This age is illusion.
Wrapped up in confusion.
For the truth is under your skin.
This age is yours to own.
A lie that can be outgrown.
The escape can be found from within.

Splinter in the soul

We too think we are owed something.
Predisposed to hope and to challenge fate.
Satellites that sweep and coat our hearts with stardust.
Yet life proves us wrong.
Finding only that cycles are cruel.
And others are fundamentally selfish, devoid of right and wrong.
On my heart, are but scars.
Cracks and grooves dug deeper over time.
Trenches of pain valleying, in memories.
As this body craves for a survival, in a world that shuts it out.
And a mind that crashes to understand.
How far we have come.
Whilst the eyes of god close.
And the age dissolves into the past.

The Smoking Nun

God’s grace, bathed in divine light.
Casting gold over cracking skin and fallen vows.
The vessel inside, so empty at the beginning.
Now overflows like a cup of human kindness.
What troubles does she have at the seat of the saints?
What ails her heart that cannot be soothed?
Sweet words from Jesus must mend the wound.
She smiles at a knowing, a celestial secret.
Whispered to her in the musky wooden rooms of god.
All this is but temporal.
All pain is marginal.
Your being is relative to the consciousness you invoke.
So why does she smoke?

Little Red Thread

Managing to bite the apple, split the seeds.
Cast to the wind.
You carve across my heart, splitting and cracking it.
Rupturing it in ways that leave me shaking.
What silent alarms are these?
What pretty little scars.
Spun around your finger, little red threads.
That you weave and place across the chasm.
Pulling my shattered heart together.
Binding it with yours.
You pierce through with the hot needle of love.
Cleansed with whisky and spit.
Woven a forever deep into that failing organ.
Heaving it, healthier, into tomorrow.
The little red thread which you now keep in your pocket.
Always there to keep us together.
To pull as to, when we think we’re breaking.

Odd-fellow

Silently he sits, as his eyes cross the room.
The breeze flutters in, rustling the magazines and small talk.
Chatter and buzz, tea and coffee cups.
A man joins at his side, greeting no one.
Shaking hands with only his past.
The smile on both, reaches around.
Unsettles the young, but comforts the knowing.
Clothes dishevelled. Hair uncombed.
The smudges on their glasses irritate no one.
They are alone in their memories.
Caring not for the call to eat.
Or the call of nature.
Held captive by a guest never welcomed in.
But tantalises them with sugar coated histories.
And kisses of those already dead.
They are friendly, but lost.
Vacant in their static.
Soon they will be put to bed.
Tucked in with their nightmares and stained sheets.
Yet these men are like astronauts, time travellers and heroes.
They survive what we will never see.
Only odd, to a world which purifies.
And wishes to erase what it doesn’t understand.

Execution by evolution

Your ideologies hang by a tangled thread.
6,000 years of life they said.
Yet in the ground and in the tar.
Lies the truth (will out) like god’s memoir.
To bring about his own destruction.
For amber shows of life’s reduction.
And kills those narrow minded thoughts.
By adding to the six, a lot more noughts.

Seahorse

The Saturn rings look like halos above you.
Don’t move, you look divine.
Around your feet the seahorses play, kicking up moon dust memories.
You find me, deep down in the Mariana trench, decaying like an old wreck.
Do not ask me to play hide and seek now, I do not know the universe as well as you.
1, 2, 3, 4…..Comets shoot across my sky, turning the blackness to fire.
I’m blinded and momentarily lost.
You paralyse me with your tongue, licking sweet sensations.
Then flicking me with words that sink in, deep into the bloodstream.
My nakedness parades in full as I stroll across the moon.
Swim to the ocean floor, swim forever more in the sea that seems beyond tranquil.
8, 9, 10….ready or not.
You found me, just north of Neptune wearing my own crown.
You say it suits you better, everything always does.
I diminish in ill-fitting clothes of the emperor. Falling into threadbare solitude.
Will the trident ever be tested? How much blood needs to flow into these craters to satisfy?
Throw me back to the tide and cast your net further afar.
Let the oceans pull you away, so I never let you plunge my Atlantis into dismay.
My pyramids will be forever mine alone, a place I can go to weep and smile.
Watching the earth follow the moon.

Theatre for god

A vantage point appears.
Sweet retrograded development.
The circle of a life, returning to where it came.
Return to shed some skin.
Dispose a sin that was trapped like a bird in a cage.
These lungs are full of alpine air.
Yet the breath is that of god.
With eyes that shine with a light of a creator.
Marvelling at his own work.
To motion an intent, is to peel back the curtain.
To slip inside the mind, is to speak another truth.
Barefoot and broken, weathered and open.
The state does not matter, for the audience can no longer see.
All this is for God, and sweet mother earth.
Rumbling in a third act that threatens a resolve.
But let us speak not of happy endings or peace.
The story is still unwritten. And the parts have yet to be filled.
What is known of the end, is that it starts a new beginning.
For we live to hear the sound of god’s applause.

Sparkle

Placing hands on such skin.
Wishing to dive right in.
And swim, in the soul full of diamonds.
I broke you out amber.
Pulled away the tar and thick oil.
Which stained my hands and heart.
One kiss pulls me under.
One word lifts me up.
The vibrations are clear, and stardust tells no lies.
For heaven assumed.
Once prayed and pried out of the sky.
I hold and cherish like a precious jewel.
Sparkle.
Dazzle.
And blind the light which banishes the dark.
Such unearthed treasure.
I keep you inside my bones.
To keep away the cancer.

Howl

Simple static in my veins.
Tears tumbling with the rains.
And inside the heart, a wooded growl.
Of a beast kept chained, a tempered howl.
With lungs that heave in kisses fleeting.
And souls that take ungodly beatings.
From love’s sad battles and passion’s war.
Washing up on forgiveness shore.
Soaking wet and freezing cold.
Left by a love grown tired and old.
Yet in the beast there’s lies a spark.
To ignite the cave and banish the dark.
And once more take a hopeful view.
That love saves the day.
And that I still have you.

Grand design

Running from the moment.
Away from such seeping pain.
Setting sights on the hills, disappearing into completely.
Far from you now, though I see you from up here.
Up into the rains and the breath of the mountain.
I stand on the edge and look up. The black rain falls on my face.
I swallow the sky and spit out the stars.
Raining them down upon you.
I stay here far too long, until I no longer know who you are.
Memories hang off me like vines in the amazon.
The animals of self-loathing crawl in these branches.
Tears fall that weld me to the stone. Moss begins to grow over my flesh.
I could not keep the promise I made.
A funeral procession trundles up the path below.
Laying rest to a soul who knew nothing but how to leave.
Their final exit, left all with destruction behind as they now carry his bones skyward.
I watch and listen to their dirges. Only I am to blame.
God help him.
God help me as I learn to say goodbye.

Interstellar insights

The world opens, the moon shines down like a second sun.
Highlighting the scars of the earth.
I sense you and smell the enthusiasm.
Every day is mine to win, each interaction a snapshot in time.
It’s not how we fall, but how we stand that matters.
The heart of the matter.
The rub, the centre; the deep filled gooey splatter of time.
Stretching away like a blurring desert.
I step stone towards the unknown, letting go of uncertainty.
Restriction dropping, heart opening foolishness of youth and wisdom.
I pull you out of the cave, bring you into the light.
Dazzled by your brilliance, and mesmerised by sight.
Too long have we lingered on the dark side of the moon.
Freezing in the ill commitment to abstain.
Come, take my hand and let us drink in the solar flares. Turn the moon to gold.
Get high on the mercury rising and dance into the fire, singing our solar song.

Ruin

Blaze the craze which rips through the world.
Such times to be alive.
Born from the birds which fly south for winter.
Pecking at the moon.
Which idea is now spun from younger lips?
For children withhold such commitment.
We welcome you to the future.
Putting your ear to the soil to hear the earth murmur.
A wailing in the wind and the wild.
A sorrow swimming in the sea.
Yesterday holds up such devastation.
Sugar coat that history, and open up forever.
Cough out lies across your coffee cups.
But listen to no one.
Wipe the heathens across the walls.
A boy, a girl caught in such crossfire.
Scrub those bloody hands, that crimson mark.
Fading from red to orange.
Another one. Another one, another one.
Falls.
As the world turns and burns.
Points of no return, distant in the mirror now.

Subside & soar

Falling down the waterfall, shaken out of grace.
Sliding, spiraling and collapsing. Leaving nothing but a trace.
Tumbling down speedily, in disgust from your eyes.
Crawling out of this bitter, purgening demise.
Escaping into nothingness, fleeing into dreams.
Tasting the fruit of freedom. Splitting from the seams.
Moving now a certain way, to expand these wings.
Unfurling fraying feathers, precious aerodynamic things.
Falling once again, from ledges beyond time.
Saying goodbye to shadows, and the ghosts that haunt this mind.
Realisation of collapse, braking bark from the knowledge tree.
Not a sad solitary boat of sand, on your egotistical sea.
I fully bow out, take my leave now and resign.
Plunging into tomorrow knowing, I must fall to begin the climb.

Universe to devour

Dreams ignite like a Chagall construction.
You and I, flying over rooftops. Exploding in colour.
I lay you down and crawl into your skin.
Kissing you intimately, feeling my way.
Your body entices and your heart entraps.
Yet it is your soul I’m after.
The bruised, damaged, fraying thing.
Shaking and asking to have life breathed in.
Frantically unable to be cupped in my hands.
It runs from me like a feather on the breeze.
Escaping like a Bharatanatyam movement.
Colours and light, burning my sad lonely grey into nothing.
Love on your fingertips, sticky from the centre of me.
Though this may be transitory, I give in and go under.
Falling for you again as the waves crash over.
Disappearing in such wonder and the perfumed smoke of you.
Coughing up clouds of devotion, and descending like the setting sun.

Salvation forest

This is what keeps me alive.
You drying on my skin.
Lobsters of the deep, snap memories for us to share.
For me to fish for.
Your tongue, a mind of its own.
I hope you don’t mind, that I describe you in such words.
But this is what I need.
A photosynthesis of love from sadness.
Breathing deep in me, swelling my soul.
Your Picasso honey, sweet blues of strung moments to fix.
A thorn in my side and iron lung around my heart.
Feeling you on my fingertips, presenting such possibilities.
A kiss will only do, to stain this skin.
Crawl into the space of your mind.
Where heart and head battle like warring gods.
Climbing mount Olympus.
Wax sticking, fear splitting into sweet tangible delight.
Strong roots that burst up toward the sky.
Like ghosts escaping a tomb.
Strange fruit that I hunger for, my teeth to bite upon.
Finding your heart at the centre,
I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength.
Into something eternal.
Breathe in this forest of salvation.
Return home.

Weathered cavort

Cold nights carry.
The message of existence.
On which fingertips we dance.
With death and the devil.
Such borrowed time.
In sweet sublime apathy.
We sleep each night.
While the storm rages.
Though cold nights make way.
For sultry dawns.
Which promise a ballet.
With hope and the angels.
On sweaty palms.
Open to a change of air.

Cataclysm and collapse

Dipped in honey and gold, the future is sold.
Shimmering in the moon which tumbles to the earth.
Spread this skin out, count each cell.
Pick out the cancer and the coughing of indignity.
The devil licks at the wounds.
As angels weep sticky red tears.
I tremble in my state of knowing.
Feelings escape like weighted balloons.
Tomorrow stubs them with its cigarette days.
Covering us all in ash and despondency.
Where did the light go that shattered.
Who stole the hope that I hidden out of reach.
These day, this time; when all is lost and circles like a fish in pond.
Around nothing but the headache same as yesterday.
The truth is not stale, yet seems so familiar.
And time has run out, and so the world burns.
As I look into the eyes of change, I know now they are dead.
I know now, so are we.
A wreck in that pond where the fish swims in circles.
Collapsed and afraid.

Glass black box

A vibration stems from the soil, creeping up the path.
Into the bones and the brains, a humming remains.
What stains the insides like a smear of the past.
Just memories and bits of self.
I buried it all as the clock thundered.
As the skies exploded in a sea of lightening.
Veins cracking the heavens like the strikes across my eyes.
The box is glass and fragile.
The contents heavy and sad.
Black like tar and the sticky oil of failed dreams.
Colour is not needed, for no one is to see.
To bury is to put aside.
Covering it with mother earth who dies a little more each day.
Who will find it? I do not know.
But it lays there now, like my ashes will one day.
A pound of flesh, and tears of regret.
The cinders of wishes that were wasted.
Inside the box they can cry together.
Silently, as those above do not care to hear.
So with this lightened heart I move.
From the pines to the eucalyptus air.
Stumbling across the sands, where I fear other boxes may dwell.
Waiting to be smashed apart.
Or cracked like the fragile glass hearts of tomorrow.

‘Black Snow’ – Out now

She’d be back of course, she planned to return. But for now she had to make her escape, she had to move while there was still time.

Pulling the door silently shut behind her, she turned from her house that she had called home most of her life and made her way to her car. It would be a familiar trip, but time was not on her side. Even now she felt the chill in the wind whip around her face, the icy fingers finding their way to into her skull beneath the tissue and thoughts.

Snow….



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(un)Like treasure

You hold the keys to the sky.
An endless blue which promises forever.
I have the lock of an ocean.
Depths as deep and as cold as snow.
In dreams.
There is no harm.
But the mist rises on tomorrow and the sky darkens.
Don’t you want me to stay?
An honesty now hangs off the stars tonight.
The moon offers nothing at all.
Your eyes echo the voice of your heart.
A fleet, a fissure; a retreat to the start.
As the day breaks like a cracked egg.
Your clouds roll on.
Offering me the sweet glimpse of light that bursts from your mouth.
Forgiveness comes at a price.
And the treasure that’s paid was once in my depths.
Covered in sand and sadness.
It now glimmers in the morning dawn.
Melting over your eyes like the sky.