YOUR EYES WILL BE BURNED

Inside the room, inside the mind.
Out of view, drenched in turpentine.
We come together, we die alone.
Soft as Satan, cold as stone.
For in these hearts, that shiver and shake.
A knowing rumblings, and dreams do wake.
For together we go, and rise when fall.
A lightened future, in death so small.
For now we chase a living dream.
Of treasured moments, and deeds unseen.

YOUR EYES WILL BE OPENED

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A break with reason

Let our eyes see, peek behind the blindfold.
Your well-worn heart heaves to a different beat.
The bones of the world hold heavy in your hands.
Try to understand.
The harm was meant for someone else.
Someone I’ve never met.
Not to shine that light on anyone I love.
The ones around me when I die.
As I try not to cry.
This two hearted monster that runs to naivety.
Boiling my brain into shadows.
Burning my blood.
Breaking my smiles down to nothing but prayers.
To only be afraid of the end.
Building myself an Allah. Building up to Jesus.
Crying and creeping out of this cradle in my mind.
There is nothing but sugar in my bones.
And desperation in these bombs.
Exploding into nothing.

ADIEU

Shuffling off this mortal coil.
After years of strife and toil.
Turns my sight towards the sky.
And spit in Satan’s salty eye.
For though I’m old and known to break.
With bones of chalk that tend to ache.
I know the spin of a moral compass.
And what is true within each one of us.
For Satan tried to grab my soul one day.
When I was down on my knees to pray.
And promised heaven and all the earth.
If I would part with what I’ve had since birth.
But I knew that cunning devil.
Was not true, or on the level.
And would leave me lost and doomed.
When the horsemen rode to their apocalyptic tune.
So though he lured and tried to test.
Reach within and corrupt the best.
I fall into the unknown whole.
With my heart intact, and with my soul.

Holocaust

This city of bones, filled now with incoherence.
Runs through this heart like haemoglobin.
You banish the hope, all latent strains of co-dependence.
Killing the love within, sparing all but the ghosts.
Who open the holes in these veins.
And sing in your cabaret of departure.
‘’Les morts ne pleurent plus.’’

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.

Consume

A burning white heat from above.
Did nothing to change your direction.
The day you came to tip the world over.
Feasting on the fragments of my life.
The little memories that get caught in your teeth.
Pick and poke through the gristle of my dreams.
What is here for you to digest?
Which part of me comes upon your silver platter?
I watch as the blood drools from your mouth so sweet.
Fresh from a kiss that left me breathless.
I held my tongue.
Which bled into my heart.
Feeling your fingers on my spine which pulled out each vertebrae.
Held aloft to see the spineless state I am in.
Heaped onto the floor in gesture of subservient decay.
So now pop me in formaldehyde, and watch me distantly up on the shelf.
Just glass and meat.
Eat raw parts of my heart that now struggle to beat.
Sweet delicious demise.

Digested by God (love tasted)

Called down by the black crows.
The end unravelling from the start.
But there is no need to fear.
All these pieces of such a life, twinkling like a magpie prize.
Caught in the claws and clutches of another.
Keep an eye on the rising waters that swallow your bones.
Fusing the soul back to the heavens.
Late again for your own funeral, but god forgives you.
The retreat back into the mind, the swirling birds that will meet you by the devil’s eye.
Does it ever equal all the pain you’ve gone through?
What happens when the anger and love show?
Collected and dispensed like feathers on the wind.
A bird in the hand.
The ache in the bush, twisting in the fingers of fate.
Soaking wet, and restless. Flying south for the eternal winter.
Six feet of soil and sadness.
Buried like treasure and the troubled heart.
But you don’t get to go yet.

Circles in the oil

The dark sky sways, undulating in that oily void.
Threatening storms, and to swallow me.
We move in motion, dancing across the dangerous divide.
Hoping not to fall. Hoping instead to fly.
Yet the golden dreams crumble to ash, and the sulphur seeps into our bones.
Laid waste across the terrain like cooling magma.
Did you prick your finger upon the wonderment?
Did you breathe in a new world design?
The lungs now get heavy with the tar of life.
Weighing down your soul until you shake into nothingness.
Black. All turns black as the sky shifts and salutes a new day of redundantment.
Our bones turn to chalk, and we write are names on the tombstones of tomorrow.
Erase. Re-write. Turn back the time to let in the light.
We all want our lonely little world.
To swim away from the one that’s drowning.
Let the pin prick breach and gape.
On a raft of a thousand reasons.
Allow the blood to cover a new imagination.
And suck the seed of dreams, to save yourself.

These Dreams

 

Where do the dreams go to die?
The great throes of a beast whose being shines with an energy of a lifetime.
The elephant graveyard of hopes, where the bones crumble and crack in the burning sun of reality.
Do they die at all, or hibernate under the covers of life.
Forgotten about until the final hour, to flash across our eyes like signs on a road never taken.
These dreams wither; they fold and float away on the winds of existence.
Spirited away like the seasons of youth.
Like leaves from a tree they decay.
Never watered, chopped down before the seed ever even germinates.
These dreams, forever in my mind yet always out of reach.

Dissolve

In the moment we fade, into shadows and dust.
Corroded and broken, like heartache and rust.
For time is motion, both forward and back.
And into the darkness, our minds birth the lack.
Of knowing limitations, of body and mind.
That we all fade away, over spread golden time.
Once oh so pretty, that the angels despaired.
How a dream would unfold, how souls ceased to care.
And the ghosts swirled around in a sad misty dance.
Where the passage of fate, and time took their chance.
To rob them of hope, to turn night out of day.
Where love and of beauty, will dissolve away.

Run

These leaves, they cover and smother me as my mind claws and scrapes at the end.
Called down to the lake, past the rotting trees.
No one came looking for me.
Broken bones and a honeycomb heart that heaves to an old tune.
Tasting tears, and welcoming fears to consume and throttle me.
Adrift along that quiet sea of loneliness.
Watching the lighthouse of hope slip beneath the sky.

Still running away

The rain had come as soon as she left the main path. She heard it now pattering on the leaves in the canopy above her. The sheltering forest where all was unsure and forbidden. She never saw it this way, this was always how it was put to her, and this is always how it was made to be. She ran along further, carving her own way through existence. The sun had yet to set, but the rain clouds had smothered the earth in that part of her little kingdom, and the forest now gleamed with a wet twilight.

She had caught herself only a couple of times, hesitant to step deeper within and away from all of what she knew and all that she resisted. Her feet sloshed now in the puddles that had formed on the forest floor. Bits of moss and time made her slip and stumble, but on she flew. Running away, running beyond. Looking for herself again.

She had left the hills and the ruins behind her, blinked them away in a heartbeat as her skin touched the dense air of the woodland and the smell of freshness. A return, a renewal of sorts; though she knew it was not to begin anything again. The sanctuary lay beyond this world now for her. She had seen the darkness, and tasted the decay of life. She had thought about her death time and again. Stored it away in small pockets of her world, only to find it ever present on her horizon. Popping out of the days and the jars she kept in her kitchen cupboards. No one knew of course, she had shuttled from each thought to another in the dizzying malaise of the worn down and woe-begotten. Left to sit and turn in the sun like an unloved pot plant on a window ledge. Her death had come each time in many colours, brilliant reds and blues that would drip down from the sky and swallow her. There was never any pain; that was how it was supposed to be. The ashen taste in her mouth told her it was coming, and all would be done. Pushing through the thicket now, she came to where she was meant to be.

Making her way into the clearing she, the forest heaved and silenced itself, as if waiting for the show to begin. The leaves parting like the curtains of a stage. She stepped out, like tiptoeing onto a dream, making her way to the clump in the middle of the clearing. Her eyes were thick now with water, her eyelashes shaking off the dew of a realisation. Cracking and tearing her way from the chrysalis. Tiny eyes shone out from the trees, the beasts joining her in to taste the end.

The small knife gleamed in the grey light which danced around the clearing, little sparks and souls prancing lyrically on the blade. The ash had begun to fill he mouth as the black sky above had begun to open. Her world was beginning to drown as she felt the skin prickle and the cool metal throb to the vein.

And then she stopped.

At her feet she saw the body, the clumped skin that lay before her like a rug at the end of a bed. She stood frozen, the rain trickling down her face as the sky now heaved and lightened the vista. The dream was begin to rumble, the humming underneath building like a train rumbling underground. She knew what it was before she touched that place, that skin and hair before her which had to be known. She knew already, but she was scared to see. Scared to reach in and feel her way through a thousand lives and know the truth.

Bending down she rolled the body over, the eyes shining back like she knew they world. Reflecting mirrors that caught that dancing light and shone back to her like the waves of the ocean. Her time flowed through her in an instant, a tidal spray of understanding washing over her. She stared at her own body, laying on that cold forest floor. Discovered only by herself and the eyes of the animals now which fidgeted and rustled around her. The blood had dried over her throat, the deep slash made a lifetime ago, yet the crimson stained her skin like a smashed cherry, licking at her neck. Her death had come a gone, many times before.

This was a moment she was discovering now, but it happened all the same each day. Every time she took that knife from the drawer. Each time she turned off her phone and closed the world away. Those moments at work when she wished to be away from everyone. Feeling alone in a crowd while they burned holes into her. Those were the times she died, when she came here to that forest clearing where the sky above swallowed her. These were the moments when her soul cried, and dripped down into that forest on the edge of her life, taking her further and further from god. Further from the light. Blurring her memory into a stain on the window of time.

Foxy and Faux

Off the tracks and deep in the trees.
Charlie fell down to his knees.
It was getting dark and he was tired.
Lost in the forest of Bagley Byard.
His little feet could take no more.
That’s why he collapsed onto the floor.
But through the trees and through the tears.
He came upon one of his fears.
For there before him stood a fox.
His teeth protruding, like small sharp rocks.
He knew that foxes could be quite vicious.
Despite their fluffy tails, they were most capricious.
And could snap and tear at poor Charlie’s throat.
Releasing a scream and his final death note.
So Charlie stood, and stared and prayed.
Hoping the small fox, would just go away.

It was getting late and he was hungry,
But past the point of being angry.
It was tough to be a vegetarian fox.
While the others chewed on rabbit and ox.
Little red spent hours searching.
For wild asparagus and all things nourishing.
He’d wandered now beyond the borderline.
And though it sent a shiver down his spine.
To be so close to the human track.
His stomach pushed him on, not back.
And then he saw the young boy ahead.
He stopped and froze, and cocked his head.
And hoped he hadn’t seen his fur.
His freighted eyes, his tiny stir.
For little red hoped as his legs now were jelly.
To not end up, in that boy’s belly.

Into stars

Bury us where we fall.
Let the pillars of salt tumble, washed away in the monsoon rains.
Stain our souls with an oil of an age.
Squeezed from the ruby fruit swallowed by God.
Bones break and winds change.
Breathing a new time and vision to assemble.
Unpack the dreams that were lost to us.
Glow them out like phosphorus diamonds in our minds.
Let us turn and change in the weather.
Weathered too many storms and cracked by too many winters.
Lay down into the ivy and close the eyes of the young.
Speak tender words of softened touches and understanding.
Leave us to fade into time, our sorrow to crumble like stone.
Speak our names as we finally disappear.
And turn back to stardust

Lift

Gold dust fades on a broken apology.
Lifting away from these dreams, burying the night.
Cut strings and porcelain.
Drifting away from such demons.
Escaping the snap of nightmares and reality.
Those wishes were heavy, pulling down my soul.
Lift into a neon blue, a heady place where dreams have died.
Part truth, part ghost.
Rosaries spin on the motor heart, forcing me upward.
Sky west and crooked.
Linking into the distance within your eyes.
My heart went out to you, threatening heaven.
Promising to belong, two steps out of this world.
Blurring into a memory and rolling down the windows.
Rolling into the arms of love.
Stuck somewhere in between.

Tears of the Gods

His heart, now the colour of his wife. Broke apart.
The urn smashed, scattering them both across the clouds.
As the volcanoes rumbled and the gods groaned.
Down they both came in the rains.
Licked up by the wood spirits and the humans below.
Pooling in the heart of the world, flecks of life;
and the cast down tears from Olympus.

Lap of the Gods

His brow, wet from the rain, cast skyward.
A heart yearning for explanation and soothing.
His climb monumental, each step a weight of a world.
The spirits plucked his heartstrings like a lyre.
Coursing a music in his soul.
The mountains surrounded him, closed in like monsters teeth.
A wife held close still.
Tiny grey fragments on his skin, parted only by an urn and disbelief.
Soldiering on, he watched Apollo bury the light for another day.
Darkening his journey and settling into his bones.
Light air and fables coiled around him as he reached the summit.
The fates had been wrong, he was to die on the ascent.
Strangled in the thin air and half-hearted inclination.
Here’s mud in their eyes he thought as he looked beyond the clouds.
A flickering light, and eye to mystery.
Shimmering into view like many untold stories spat from a fire.
The great mount, the seat of all and the divine rose into view.
His heart melted into honey as the sight expanded in his eyes.
Before it turned to stone, unable to stand the wonders before him;
knowing the climb had just been steps towards the sacred.
Tiptoes on the precipice at the edge of the world.

THE NATURE OF THE NIGHT

It had only been twenty minutes, and already I was sick of being in the car. The heating had taken ages to kick in, so I shivered in the cold and frosty conversation. The argument had begun on the way back to the carpark. It didn’t matter what it was over, it never really did. These miniature versions of global wars, shrunk down to my own proximity; petty power plays and name calling could be over anything. We traveled home in silence and I watched the woods from the window as they slipped into a green blur before me. Within, numerous animals and tiny lives played out in the canvas of trees. Thronged within the forest’s bulging beauty.

Though it was freezing, the wet rain had begun to pelt the car. Icy splashes attacked the window like a rapping inside my skull. I glanced across to the driver’s seat, watching their movement. The quick flow to turn on the wipers, the gear shift to go slower and the change of the playlist. It all seemed synchronised, as if in some way it had all been planned. The sky above was dark and ominous now, mirroring the mood between us that sped down the road faster than I would care for in the rain.

I took off my shoes, not to annoy them, but because my feet ached. We had been walking most of the day and the confines of my old boots had rubbed and grated on me, reminding me not only that they were old, but also of my lack of outdoorness recently. I hadn’t really been out of the house for weeks, curled up into the fetal position watching old movies of hunched over my laptop. Watching the world always through screens, either on my computer, the television or my phone. I had ridden my day of all of these things once. Switched off my phone and left my computer untouched and ignored as I let my life and world return. But it had only been a passing fancy. The desire to feel productive or recognised as alive, even if only by a machine had overwhelmed and succeeded.

My feet stunk a little, so I kept them on the floor. I would usually rest them on the dashboard or bring them up to the seat. I sometimes sat crossed legged on long journeys. Doing nothing for my blood flow but perhaps self-nursing my own comfort, replaying childhood thoughts of sitting crossed legged on the school floor back in primary school. If I were feeling more inclined to be irritating, I would have put them up on the dashboard, but I couldn’t be bothered. The argument had already sapped most of my energy and inclination, and now I was just tired and wanted to go to bed. Yet I knew already, as they put on the music they knew I didn’t like, that we would have some go through when we go back. The civil remarks asking if we wanted a drink or use the bathroom first would chip away at the snowy exterior that had rose in the time of driving back. Making way for the falling glacier to tumble into the oncoming night.

They checked their phone, reading some message that buzzed through illuminating the car in a moth like glow. I turned away, watching the trees slip into farmer’s fields and small farmhouses off in the distance. I could see some lights over on the hill, a tall house with the brightest glow like a lighthouse in a sea of farmland. The view in the day must be lovely from up there I thought.

The phone was returned to its cradle, the track on the playlist skipped to something more bassly irritating and they reached then for the cigarettes. I held my breath as they puffed out the first exhale which always filled the car unnecessarily, before rolling down the window. The car sped on and the rain flew in from all angles, soaking their shoulder and blowing the smoke further deep into the car and my senses.

I watched as other cars pass by, less frequent than before the further out we came; but still busy for this time of the night. Their lights would glow off in the distance like trapped creatures caught in a static sea. I would let their lights burn into my eyes as they passed, allowing the white haze to flood my brain and x-ray my soul slightly. I could see no taillights however, which I always liked to see, especially in the rain. It made me think of a red eyed beast lurking off on the horizon, threatening to rise up and attack the car. Fleeing some mythical creature gave the drive a much more interesting flare. But no so tonight.

The smoke was irritating me now, but I noticed the cigarette was almost done. Soon to be tossed out into the dark. Used, burned and thrown away and never thought about again. Looked on by anyone who would find that charred thing as an annoyance and sign of the times. Another car zoomed past, washing in the splashy sound of the road that held a lot of water after the sudden downpour.

Sometimes I would imagine leaning over and forcing the steering wheel to jerk to the right, slamming our car into another’s and obliterating our lives forever. Throwing us perhaps through the windshield or crumpling us both into a bloody mess of bone and loss. I knew if we crashed I would never survive, not if I knew that was what fate held in store. My heart wouldn’t be in it to cling on, live through any deliberating injuries or even roadside assistance. I would listen to them try to keep me conscious for a moment, just to see if they really cared, and then slip away into the sweet relief of death.

But I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t force others to be caught up in our crash or our calamity. Our problems were our own, and though the end flickered worryingly close like a butterfly at times; it was our self-made ice-age; and we had no reason to complain of the cold.

Circles around the moon

Wake me when the world ends.
Kill the afterburners and shake me from sleep.
Wipe the dust from my interstellar eyes that have cried, huge cosmic tears.
Flooding the seas.
The dinosaurs within me perished eons ago.
Locked in tar along with childhood dreams of safety.
I staggered lonely in the skeletons of dead monsters.
Picking scales and truths from my worn down teeth.
Fossilised friendships blur past like a comet across my horizon.
Shrivelled on the vine of life, though some plucked too soon.
Dip these eyelashes in turquoise to bejewel our gaze.
Ruby up my mind with a blood of a million dead stars.
Hold a steady distance from the lunar madness.
Carving out cheese for the space monkeys.
Still on the payroll.
I spot you on the surface, with buckets of moon dust and a beckoning hand.
Initiate all power and steer my soul away.
Crying once more as the tears pop around me like bubbles.
Watching the world collapse and the memories fold away.
Locked in the lunar orbit forever.
Making circles around the moon.

Six degrees of disintegration

Paper soul dancing by life’s flame.
Burn again. Born again.
Over and over like a universe collapsing.
Coming to bleed out the dark.
A dangerous dialysis of oil and tar.
Coming here to disappear.
Smearing your soul across the world for all the birds to see.
Nothing could bring you closer.
Shooting at phantoms.
Nothing would bring you down.
Dreaming those dreams in which to lose yourself.
Powered chalk on other’s fingertips.
Dirtying up your memories.
Falling to climb but never finding your wings.
Reconciled the misery with a loss of innocence.
That sweet little heart.
You gathered your bones up to say goodbye.
Breaking at your most beautiful.
And crawling out of your skin.
Leave, hoping for them to take you.
The vanishing calling.

Dusk of the innocent

They didn’t see it coming.
Always bouncing on to something else.
Ignoring the ghosts in their eyes, or the oncoming headlights.
Those April days of innocence.
Flying over schools and mountain tops.
Elasticated minds skimming the Tokyo suburbs.
Never finding time to hear what love sounded like.
Letting it all fall away like a crumbling cliff, on the sea of something.
Were you ever sure what you fought for?
Always in the eye of the storm of your halcyon hurricane.
When April faded to December, what do you cling to now?
Freeze dried promises that never seem to thaw.
Mislabelled and mumbling that nothing seems clear.
Only the icy ground beneath, forcing you in that straight line.
Towards you losing yourself.
And lowering into soil.
Could you ever tell who liked you? Did you ever really care?
Needling the hay to make way for a forgotten tomorrow.
Singing into the dusk of the innocents.

Something for the weekend

Looking for something to do this weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in eBook format. Click here to get yours today and spend the weekend wrapped in stars and decaying words.

Looking for something to do next weekend? Don’t forget, Echoes in Space: Cosmically collapsing poetry is out now in paperback. Click here to get yours in the next few days and spend the following weekend wrapped in the celestial bodies and wandering words.

(‘Echoes in space’ is available worldwide…follow your regional amazon moon rabbit.)

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Thank you. Here are some freebies:

SHINE

Crushed to Diamond dust.
Inhaled in the right light.
When the moon is bright.
Deep into your vines I travel.
Filling your soul with stars.

 

You stopped the rain

What becomes of all of us?
Down in the depths, floating on the sea of time.
Who pulls us back? Who throws the ropes of salvation?
She dwelled long and lonely under the waves.
Wrinkling into memory as the salt clogged her bones.
But the dreams wouldn’t fade like a dying star.
The hope threaded around her heart like roots of a tree.
New lips breathed the life back into her.
Tomorrow’s soul and eternity’s hand.
Raised her from her watery grave.
Covering her in love and picking away the scabs of sorrow.
She smiled and laughed as they ignited within the pilot fire.
Which shifted fate, and scared the fish.