Swimming through thorns

High is the wire, and lonely at the top.
Fighting for a chance of hope.
Fighting for it to stop.
Rationalism is fleeting, insanity prevails.
You cannot change the unwilling.
You cannot tip the scales.
So carry on regardless, but do not seek applause.
For though your side is righteous.
To them it’s a worthless cause.

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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.

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.

Everything (सर्वेषां स्वस्तिर्भवतु ।)

When the world wind weeps around you.
May the universe dry your eyes.
And happiness make you smile once more.
Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu.
I cannot keep you safe from the conflict.
Or the wars within you.
But I offer you peace, from that of which I’ve known.
Sarveśām Shāntir Bhavatu.
You are taken from the mountain,.
You come in pieces.
And I too. But together we are more than less.
Sarveśām Pūrnam Bhavatu.
And if you fall, I will not catch you.
I will watch as you rise again.
And applaud your strength, with an outstretched heart.
Sarveśām Maṇgalam Bhavatu.

Weapon of choice

It’s so hard, just to peel back the truth.
Like folding back the sky.
Propping up heaven while we renovate.
Dusting under the throne, sweeping under the rug.
How much is caught in your eye?
As the verbal rocks are thrown?
Hammering now in your head.
Leaving idealism to another time, another life.
Dropped in the ocean to be covered in coral.
We slaughter the fledgling feelings, new to hope.
Eager to walk in the sunlight holding hands.
We never understand, how to break the cycle.
Going round and round. Like a falling plane.
Spiralling, tumbling, freewheeling to the ground.
You pin the medal of victory to your chest.
Pricking the skin, letting the blood flow.
Straightening your soul, patting your ego on the back.
Mumbling incoherently the art of war.
Driving your tank over the art of love.

Indignities of war

Now the music sounds better without you.
The sound of rust and avoidance.
A pin of change, held in thy hand.
Explosions in their eyes, are merely the dying stars of hope.
As they drop bombs on everything you see.
All that once glittered was sold.
Packaged and peeled like your skin on the cross.
And we taste the regret each day.
And we forget each pain and stay,
locked in world of static.
Explaining each miracle away.
It once felt like home.
Until the sands rose and the waters melted.
And we looked once more in the back of our skulls.
Picking away at you on the roof of our mouths.
The tourniquets we place over the lands tear.
The crumble and crack of reason.
The pain is the only thing we’re happy to hear.
As we martyr those who walk your walk.
And silence those, with that familiar talk.
Of love.

Retreat

Bullets peel away my flesh, as the city sleeps.
It crumbles into the night.
Slinking into tomorrow like a panther into the jungle.
You don’t run my town.
You won’t own my crown.
The drums of war sound and the concrete cracks.
Awakening once more to a new day of havoc.
Racing rats and such noise in my skull.
Retreat. Re-tweet.
The fingers tap itching by the triggers.
Awash with opinions, thrown like rocks.
Flowers grow where old giants fell.
Mighty names and egos that towered into the sky.
You throw such money around.
Yet you walk sideways.
Poised with perfection, like a clown who has mastered tears.
Retreat. I retreat into the place where I was born.
To a land where the trees breathe my name.
I hear the bullets fly in the distance, yet they cannot reach me here.
They do not know this place.
Or that it’s my finger on the button.

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.

Conflict(ed)

The ticking clock moves my bones.
Vibrating to a new chorus.
Such fear and bravery dogfight within.
Triggering the gunfire in my heart.
Bringing other humans to their knees, and staining my soul.
Cast out of Eden
Ordered here, directed there by badges that shimmered in the sorrow;
and a broken moral compass, scratched by time.
Left stranded out to sea.
Struck by the passing grief of that tide.
The one that washed over me.
Seeing death in the eyes of those all around.
Feeling hope strangled, feeling fear take hold.
Who really wins the fight, when we lose ourselves in the struggle?
Stretched and stricken, sunk by the force of your hate.
Every tear here brings the ocean higher.
With every cry, a family welcomes in a stranger.
A void, the blackness. The stories to tell a generation.
Of the great fight, that felt so wrong.

Tender, the grass of war

A bloody dust covers the eyes of the onlookers.
The voyeurs of life’s sad pageant.
Cattled and rattled they sing the song of war.
A sweet lullaby to mark their intent.
The flag sticks in a body not long departed.
Stretched and lined like the marks of policies.
The bow broke and spilled them into the trenches.
Dirtied their bones and wet the bed.
What care for them as their moon-skulls broke?
Separated out into the dark sea of regret.
Piece by piece we cut away the fabric of life.
Stitched into a patchwork of redesign.
Peace and thoughts maligned.
Meet me in the sandbox, the playground, the gulf.
Help me destroy the things I do not understand.
Recess, regress. God bless this mess.
A boy lost in a man’s disappearing world.

Nuclear shadows

I cannot unwind the clock in my skull.
The ticking over time that set all the world ablaze.
Who knew the day, when the sky darkened.
And fate eclipsed my heart.
Those running for cover.
Scattering like pebbles on a beach.
Lapped by a sea of hatred.
I cling to the groceries in my hand.
Fruit, dehumidified in my grasp.
Turning into mummies like the bodies nearby.
Burnt in an undignified splendour.
What escaped hell that day?
Let loose by righteous souls who knew better.
A holy war into the mouth of the devil.
As the fire crinkled in the sky, it burnt down upon us.
Imprinting my soul into the pavement where I stood.
Nuclear shadows, snapped like the sun shuttering.
God, turning his head away and closing his eyes.
The light of an age, swimming around those that twinkled inside.
But how soon those lights were gone.

Recapturing

The silent soul who wades this world.
With brittle bones and sad inclinations.
Arrives at a place in memory, strung up with words that bind.
Does he fall deeper into the despair of an age?
Of that turning sun that snatches all that lay in his hands?
Or does shift, and arches his back to the march of time.
A solider in war of change.
Corrupting from within.

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.

Weather in your storm

The battle cry down the line.
Marching towards another front.
The sweeping gales of isolation. Threaten such havoc.
Why do you fight for no reward?
Sending lightning bolts through my battle scars.
The ones that prove I’m a warrior.
My emotions hunted close to extinction.
Tapping Darwin on my veins.
The tattoo that reads ‘Forever your Wallace’.
You naturally select the sharpest blade,
and cut me so deep I see the stars in your storm.
Do I hunker down, disconnect the phone line and lock up the animals?
Retreat and retract. These statements of intent.
The reason in your anger.
The weather in your storm.
As I pour the red over my skin. Drowning in war paint.

Black heart down

Our cover is blown, this black on my face is useless.
The black in my heart now permanent.
I shoot into the air, reaching up to God.
Cutting a line of bullets across the seas as you say your goodbyes.
Scrambling in my camouflage heart. Losing all self-control.
I’m fighting for the fate of our love. Such desire.
I’m dying from the weight of our love.
Dangerous forces, twisting like fate rip me from this place.
A turn around and a tourniquet, waiting for the rains of remorse.
What is this thing? What is this love we’re fighting for?
What am I killing you for everyday?
I’ve been that person, for the last time. I’ve been your lover for an age.
God knows I tried. God knows you cried.
I see all this, when the anger shows and you shoot to kill.
Leaving me on the floor. Covered in blood and sawdust memories.
The grave pulls me under, that well-worn hand of comfort.
Sweet relief of death and freedom from tomorrow.

Combat(ing)

Simple words that cut me down the middle.
Do you know the shock-waves?
They effortlessly drip off your tongue.
I look away.
You go primeval, you lash and rage like a savage.
The maddening reasons of the realistic and selfish.
These scars that I show, the ones that never healed, they bleed again.
Oozing out blood and hurt like long forgotten wars.
Not ready for this skirmish, your monologues of conflict.
Declamations shake me to my soul and make me shiver out a recourse.
This moment smashes into my future, obliterating my plans.
You dance the tribal dance of difference, circling the fire and the thoughts in my mind.
I walk away from the flames and carnal look in your eyes, with tears in my own that decorate my skin.
The sound of drums fade, but never disappear completely.

Complex reference points

Please don’t talk, it makes me think.
My head shudders as your eyes roll.
It makes me hide the knifes, and text books. My homework on discovering you.
You bite my hands and pretend you’re a tiger. Chasing your tail.
You used to burn so bright.
That dream is diminishing.
You listen to the devils in your ear. They tell you what you want to hear.
Here comes an opportunity. Can’t you see, this is all I need?
It all comes undone. Unbutton that tongue, and be my truth tonight.
These words begin to carry me away, you never did ask me to stay.
Tiny towers compare to you, as my eyes set on mountains that command.
What dream did you want to destroy today?
I see it in your eyes, as I put on my armour and prepare for the next wave.
Your Joan of Arc, your Jesus Christ. Your Martin Luther, your holy ghost?
You never listen carefully, distrusting my reptilian blood. Count the crazy.
So I let you sleep. Laying you down on the battlefield, your martyred pose. Your own stations of the cross. You seem happy.
I finally found a way to make you smile.

The 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. The 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.
I have to kiss you.
Crawl into the space of your mind where the 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 into.
Finding your heart at the centre, I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength into something eternal.
Breathe.