I ate the prayer

Layer after layer, through teeth and truth.
Bones that trip and slip under.
Down into the briny wonder.
I ate the prayer.
Closed the eyes, for tomorrow will never see.
Bring that illusion back.
Roll back the time.
Sucking up event horizons and riverbed pebbles.
Milky chalk to wash the medicine down.
I ate the prayer.
Laid out on copper plates and paper trays.
Flung from hell and the devil’s lips.
That kissed and took me under.

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Oh Father

Trying to forget, in a month full of regrets.
Each one a paper cut on my tongue.
The sting and sing of a song never sung.
Oh father, please hear these crystal callings.
Tuneful as they resonate out of my bones.
It hurts deep within, now an avalanche of sin.
A snaking of something unknown.
This internal scaffolding rattles with every utterance.
Forgiveness seems to be someone else’s fate.
But I cough up a prayer, a confession;
my contrition aimed high into heaven.
As below my skeleton shatters to dust.
Silently, as I know I deserve it.

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.

Intertwined

Our souls so pure they all align.
Separated only by thoughts and time.
Which hold a love that extends to all.
Who reign above, or those who fall.
And do not let the world go dark.
But ignite the hope within each spark.
This alchemy that turns hate to kind.
Our lives, our world, all intertwined.

A mouth full of marbles

You hold me until the ghosts are quiet.
Pulling into your soul this shadow of doubt.
A brain full of fire and a mouth full of marbles.
Yet you force me to speak.
A language of unsaying, fluent as the sphinx.
This hostility threatens everyone.
Those been and gone, and ones yet to be.
Sitting on the edge of expectation.
Tasting the chalk in my mouth.
My viper tongue recoils, and you slither away.
Into your own darkness, leaving just reality in my wake.
A wounded bird, a lamb in the teeth of this lion.
Yet my shepherd heart yearns for brighter days and greener pastures.
So let me spit out a saying, one practised like a prayer.
To quiver down your spine.
And rattle in your brain for an age.
Words that will flash before your eyes when you think of me.
And everything that all burnt away.

Solar delights

They say it was the setting sun.
But I know you swallowed it whole.
Took it down deep within, into that hidden kingdom.
Where my dreams now lie.
Kissed and churned like diamond butter.
The moon shines through your eyelids.
Turning the tide of me towards your wavering satellite.
Blinking out a religion, coughing up a prayer.
Your perfumed words drift like embers on the wind.
Setting my senses a flame like a bonfire of perplexity.
Ghost rush flames, that sink into my bones.
Do I know all of this from somewhere?
Did I meet you once before, locked in this DNA?
My senses strip bare and you take me all in.
Down like the setting sun.
Like slipping down a spine.
To swim in those silky chambers.
Dressed in gold and sunlight.
Holding on to me like a dying star.
Just kids looking straight into the sun.
 

Interred

He was buried on the Tuesday morn.
While the rest of the world slept.
Into the ground, like being unborn.
Darkness around the coffin crept.
And they left John there, in that hole the ground.
After covering him up with earth.
In spirits they wished their sadness to drown.
So drank their sorrow away to mirth.
But after a while, inside the box.
Poor John had started to stir.
From the top of his head, down to his socks.
Some chaos was about to occur.
For John wasn’t dead, he’d only been sleeping.
When they’d thought the worse and put under.
And now the panic, inside him was creeping.
To get out of that terrible blunder.
But the panic was not down to being buried alive.
Or confined in that horrible space.
For John was nearly ninety five.
And it was heaven he knew was his place.
So he did what anyone would down there.
In the dark and no longer young.
He crossed his chest and uttered a prayer.
Closed his eyes and swallowed his tongue