Temporarily Demolished

The dark hand hovers, swoops in to snatch the light.
Bathing me in shadows and crashing the sun into the moon.
Shaking the tectonic plates of my life.
Shaking out a fountain of tears.
Breeding the germ of loss, which spreads around my heart,
and eats away at my bones.
Questions and corrections, always too late and never answered.
We come full circle, back to home.
Returning to where the memories swim.
Tugging me in every direction.
The drop of hatred swells, oiling my blood until a rage torrents.
Darkening the world further.
But there are eyes watching, and hearts beating.
And tears that need drying that aren’t my own.
Though I cannot see the dawn,
and it’s colder now than I’ve ever known.
Inside, the candle will always burn.
Keeping me warm.

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.

A Prayer dissected

Wings to fly, yet grounded.
The anchorage of my soul, gravitised to you.
The buildings and clouds climb above us.
Reaching up to god.
Trapped in this feeling, caught in the chaos of blinding resolution.
That glued my eyes open to the reality of it all.
Your feelings match the buildings so tall.
The reach and pull, and ascend away from me.
Into the space of another time.
Another life yet to be.
The weight of your world breaks my bones.
Splinters my soul and leaves me gasping for breath.
Split and scar the flesh to pull out the love.
Though there’s no need to cry.
China tears and crystal cries will only shatter in the echo,
of the words I spoke in pain, in dismantling the church of our hearts.
But keep that light on in our chapel.
The one that banishes the shadows, the things others know.
Those little pieces of our life mean more to me than those.
Let me devour them as you whisper in my ear.
‘You will again pray here.’

The Day of goodbyes

Falling into a sleep that’s caught between the devil and the deep.
Blue, everything blue blue blue.
These hearts, caught on strings and spun around fingers.
Worn on the sleeves, cut into ribbons.
The world need not worry, the moon cares little.
Little spheres of sadness that fade into the space of time.
But there was that day, that long terrible day of goodbyes.
Cut deep into the soul of existence.
A meteor into the ice of now.
Tears stained, then dried as they are spirited off.
Into unknown lands and parts of their mind.
An aching blue, a neon pain remained.
In the absence of other, a divine emptiness.
Conspired by the fates to lick the face of loss.
Not knowing what they had, until it was gone.

Bruises fade to rainbows

She wouldn’t talk about the pain she was in.
The hurt that dwelt beneath her skin.
She didn’t cry, or even murmur.
As he made her flesh, that little bit firmer.
With each punch that found its destination.
A martial disturbance of accustomed agitation.
Bruises showed he really cared.
As he threw her skeleton down the stairs.
The neighbours tuned a blind yet curious eye.
To her haloed face and bloodied thigh.
No-one asked if she needed help.
A shoulder to cry on, or how she felt;
being married to a violent creature.
Who tortured her mind as well as each feature.
She couldn’t escape, or at least she thought.
Which is why she stayed, and perhaps why they fought.
Until one day, when she hit back.
Her own rebellion, when her mind did crack.
She took off her clothes and burnt them there.
Along with his flesh, his eyes and hair.
And painted herself with the most brilliant shades,
to hide the bruises which had yet to fade.
She then went out into the street.
Head held high, no shoes on her feet.
As her house and his corpse burned to an orange glow.
She was now her own liberated rainbow.

Contract & construct

That reason we all had for being there.
Through shared DNA and the tears of Jesus.
Waiting for the smoke to clear and the dust to settle.
Yet deep inside a fire burns.
Turning all to ashes and cleansing from within.
Who do you ask forgiveness off?
As you hand across a world that is riddled with pain.
What did you blame as you clung to indifference?
When the world darkened as black as the night.
But do not drown in this consequence.
Or be blown away in this havoc.
It maybe all borrowed time, but it’s ours to own.
And the rest is still unwritten.

Joan

I confess what’s in my heart.
Then cough out a prayer, deep in the dark.
I aim it towards heaven, and smile in his eyes.
Yet all around me I notice, it’s me they despise.
Though I hold my head high.
A trick I learnt from youth.
Never let them see you cry, drown them with the truth.
So they kill me with words, and burn me in their fire.
Scared of a dream, haunted by desire.
So onto these knees to pray, flames lick me as I knelt.
And all that I can think, deep within my skull.
Is that now I know how Joan of Arc felt.

Somebody else

‘You cannot say that’, he heard him say.
Late in the evening on that autumn day.
You do not know, and cannot see.
The way she acts and thinks of me.
He sighed in the mirror and captured a glance.
At the scene around him, and as if by chance.
The phone beside him, rang out in alarm.
So he put the gun down, and out stretched him arm.
‘Hello, it’s me’; he heard them whisper.
Down the line, in words much crisper;
than the vision before his eyes.
Which was strange and blurry, and full of lies.
The body lying there belonged to the voice.
Which then quite suddenly, gave him a choice;
‘Come with me Michael and leave this place’.
It cooed and called with maximum haste.
But just then a shadow entered.
Another spectre, in his life now centered.
And beckoned him with a bony finger.
Calling him hither, and as it lingered.
The voice down the line demanded the gun,
be picked up at once, so around he spun.
To face that image glaring back.
He fired three times, until all was black.
The voices had silenced, gone away forever.
That pulling thread, cut and sever.
From poor old Michael and his mental stage.
That had plagued him from an early age.
He was now adrift and finally free.
From somebody else, someone not me

Raging storm

Your clouds are black.
Coffee stained and lava grey.
Swirling and destroying like a tornado touching down.
Soaking me in rain dripped misery.
Sucking the bolts from my foundation.
There’s no calm in your storm.
No eye to your needle of chaos.
Swelling your seas in the face of my defiance.
Shouting into the winds of your frustration.
But you are just a ragging storm.
Lost in my lonely hurricane.

Down for the count

Hitting below the belt, is now your signature move.
Nurturing such a disregard for me.
Bruising my inner self, my words that always came up empty.
Spat out with blood and hope.
Your maturity sent me reeling, down to the mat.
Waiting for the bell.
You can tolerate me from afar you say.
Like breaking away from a hug, it leaves me devastated.
Yet I remain. Quiet and composed. Taught to hold my head up high.
Dodging intentional verbal daggers and manufactured truths.
Your truths, your reasoning. Your horse blinders on for style.
Over substance. Over my comfort.
Through this pedestal championing, you shoulder massaging.
Cuts deep the vein of my self-respect.
Making my feel ignorant to your perfect sane mind.
I stutter and slip, tripped up on your words.
Unable to reason or fight fire with fire. Caught in your orbit.
All this time wishing on a star that was merely your own satellite.
Just a poet in your world, trying to chase the undefinable.

Chaos capable

I ran from you. Part me, part God.
Up into the trees. To the cobwebs in my head.
Waiting for you to shake the branches.
In your wisdom you never did.
You never changed. You didn’t have to.
Let me taste the death on my own.
Licking the love clean till the stone showed.
Hard as nails now.
Cracking under strain. Splitting at the seams. I dissolve.
Struggling to integrate, bypass and subjugate any longer.
You let it wash over you like ash. My chaotic waves as you disappear into the horizon.
Like an apparition, you drift into the fog, never looking back.
Like a mourner I remain, chained to our remains.
Wound licking, account ticking. Marking off any acceptable losses.
Coming up empty.
Your black grave opened up, and I dove in.
Canned chaos and tears. Forever lamenting.

Colour my direction

Dreams, again complicating my life.
They swing their megaphone and make me no longer breathe.
Diving deep, fill my lungs in my chest as they weigh heavy.
Underwater, and the unsettling sound of silence.
Swimming in the dark, where no-one will see if I drown.
They force me to murmur out a sound. An action.
A sleep twitch.
Taking off with little beats. Like coloured balls escaping.
A Personal pilgrimage to land in your lap.
Hold me in your crossed arms, talk to me of the Passion.
Your passion.
Fade into my hue and join me. Linked in gravity.
Seeking rainbows, as I carry the weight of my world.
Imitating life. We have it all.

Dear silent shadow

My mind is playing silly games. Your turn.
Synchronised with moon tides and memories.
Waiting for the dust to settle, for the world to quieten.
For me to subdue, acquiesce or fold.
These growing pains, leave me breathless and blurry eyed.
Trying to unhook you, to dispel the miser and the misery.
Parading the joyfulness of a child. Spank me into correction.
Treat me like a four year old, chastise in your maturity.
Even kids get story time and chocolates.
Where is my reward for good behaviour?
Peter panning my tinkerbell tendencies.
Where is my previous saviour?
I’m losing my religion, as it drips away in tears shed from you.
I hear you calling, wanting to play again.
Foolish games?
I drift into my sleep, so turn down your loud bittersweet.
Dreaming, so our broken wings can soar. That’s all that’s left.

Wash

Stripping back the past as you wallow in the dirt.
Forcing me to join you, dripping in the hurt.
Pressing my face right up to the window of the mess.
As I please, and beg and prostrate that I’m trying to do my best.
You can’t undo it. And yet I knew it. You say that we blew. Here we go.
Can we focus on tomorrow, the beautiful, or the happy? Things that work better when we flow?

Futile

I do know that you loved me a little bit.
Though I still think it was just counterfeit.
And I know you loved yourself a little bit more.
I traded my life, just for a taste of it.
Inside you fist, I was caught within your grip.
You had me believing it was better than it was before.
Now you come back, wanting a part of me.
Ignoring the pain you caused, expecting me to be free.
Arrogantly thinking it was you we wanted to see again.
So let me update you, and send you on your way.
I have no need for your ego always on display.
I have found true love and it is here to stay, without you.

Painful progression

Wake up they said, keep up they added.
The fly in the ointment is my stronger sense of clarity.
The tiger who sits and waits for its meal to pass on by.
So easily I offer my head sometimes, too many times I crawl right inside to count the teeth.
Is it down to me to save your soul, is it my responsibility to give more when I feel wrung out?
Like a turnstile at a busy underground station, I’m overused and in need of rest.
Don’t pinch me, don’t poke me, let me sleep and let me dream.
This feels so odd to me now, must I keep going though I’m unable?
I spill words like teeth before you in the hope you’ll spell out reciprocity.
Scrabbling the board, flicking away the fillings and cracked enamel.
Curse this sweet tooth.
You come up with all consonants and monopoly money. You cannot buy me I say.
So I sit back, and do what needs to be done.
I go back to licking your shoes and kissing your ass.
Yet this generosity leaves me defenceless.
As the wave breaks in my mind, it washes the devotion away.
Sometimes my offering leaves me disabled.
I’m no longer sure it registers with you anymore, you mark it up and assume the position.
I shuffle lower and kiss your feet.
Must I continue when I’m so incomplete?
Give me the shell of your being so I can climb inside and make a home there, let me decorate with things you do not notice.
Pretty pictures and wallpaper made from recycled emotions.
Do not take my kindness for weakness though, I have struggled through things that would make you disintegrate.
Do I continue with this sense of duty, dancing in the masquerade called love?