As below

She never knew how she came to be.
To the age of ninety three.
She smoked and drank and cursed each day.
And never cared for what others did say.
Her life had been by her own choosing.
A chaotic mess of her own amusing.
And in her mind she was even proud.
To being mean, and cruel and loud.
Until one day, at a quarter to four.
She fell down dead on the kitchen floor.
And travelled quickly up to heaven.
Leaving her cottage in northern Devon.
And she sat there smug as she saw the gates.
The souls all happy in nirvanic states.
For she was where she hoped to be.
Up in heaven for eternity.
But alas, this was not the plan.
For this ninety three year old smug gran.
She was asked if she had enjoyed her life.
Whose lives she changed to goodness from strife?
What part of her had she transformed?
What acts of kindness had she performed?
Her mind was quick, despite her age.
And she spun a yarn as if on stage.
She knew she had never really tried.
To change the rotten that was inside.
And they knew then, and as did she.
That she would pay for her treachery.
And so they sent her back to earth.
Through the process of rebirth.
And wiped her mind so she never knew.
Where to go, or what to do.
To avoid the process and in which to grow.
To change her soul here down below.
And to keep from repeating this repetitive spell.
For she did not know, that this was hell.

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The ecstasy of anyone

Kiss me when the world is watching.
Take me when the night time comes.
Explore me until something shocking.
Rattles in your bones and hums.
Taking you to seventh heaven.
Letting Allah kiss you on the mouth.
Praise me once, or six or seven,
times until our heads go south.
For in my lap you’ll find the answer.
In my mind you’ll find the key.
Your fingers will become a master.
In unlocking this mystery.
But this is more than cheap gymnastics.
There is more than sweet ecstasy.
For my heart is linked to your tantric,
ways of love which I cannot flee.
You have my heart, my precious treasure.
You have my soul, my body and mind.
So with it all, I offer such pleasure.
A union, till the end of time.

The Pumpkin man

Every year, when the leaves turn brown.
The pumpkin man, comes to town.
He straddles confidently into the square.
And steals the first child sitting there.
And though this may seem mean and frightful.
We’ve come to terms, and find it delightful.
For the pumpkin man, like the Krampus in winter.
Knows which boy or girl is a sinner.
And punishes them for their terrible ways.
For their nasty manners and idle malaise.
But fear not, for he brings them back.
A little wiser, in that pumpkin sack.
But for his trouble, we all bequeath.
For him to keep the child’s teeth.
For a pumpkin man, though true and dandy.
Must go through all that Halloween candy.

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.

Miss Mary Allen

In Eighteen hundred and ninety three.
Old Mary Allen, came to tea.
Which in itself was not surprising.
T’was how she left, which was most alarming.
For though she departed, much like she came.
Like a ray of light through heavy rain.
She left a shadow, dark and unpleasant.
There in number 55 Crescent.
Yet those who know Miss Allen well.
Would not believe within could dwell.
The evil doings or witchy ways.
That came upon that house that day.
For as she scoffed the cakes and tea.
And poured on life’s intricacies.
That her hosts did laugh and query too.
They did consume her witches brew.
For into their tea her hand did place.
A nasty poison devoid of taste.
Which would eventually corrode their innards.
That seeped with blood out of their gizzards.
And snatched their lives so painful and quick.
And stubbed them out like a candle wick.
So while their bodies lay about the room.
And so befell a horrid gloom.
Miss Mary Allen laughed and smiled.
And danced about, all crazed and wild.
Until she came to depart the house.
Which she fled, quiet as a mouse.
And disappeared off into the city.
With smiles and roses, all innocently pretty.
Now please don’t think too bad of Mary.
Of her murderous ways that seem so scary.
As she is really the victim here.
And if I must, make it crystal clear;
for she had visited the family who,
for months and years had nastily knew.
That she was slowly being poisoned.
By the leaking valves at her employment.
The torrid factory where she and others.
Worked long and hard for the Wilson Brothers
Who had invited her suddenly to tea.
All for show and sympathy.
For she had come across their deep deception.
And plotted revenge at that lunch reception
So please feel happy, for the circumstance.
Of the middle class and happenstance.
And don’t judge Mary and her brazen gall.
An eye for an eye, after all.

Mother’s milk

Grow up big and grow up strong.
Be nice to others. Get along.
Don’t do drugs, and don’t’ drink coffee.
Savour each day like a delicious toffee.
Always colour inside the lines.
Say your prayers, once; two times.
Be still, be quiet, be seen not heard.
Be small and quiet like muted bird.
Play nice, play well and be enamoured.
For the nail that sticks, is that one that’s hammered.
Those thoughts of lofty aspirations.
Are just a sign of desperation.
So do not fall into the abyss.
Of needing help, to love or kiss.
For the witch is what they’ll call the other.
The fallen woman.
The post-natal mother.

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.

Luminous lament

She knew, she hoped, she begged it true.
But despite her efforts, away they flew.
She always thought they’d come to save her.
To take the dark and be her saviour.
A light would flicker inside her heart.
A smile would spread, then tear apart.
She never found love that ever endured.
Or took her sickness and made her cured.
From a loneliness that ate away.
A sadness that had come to stay.
Until she read deep in a book.
That she could change her fate, and all it took.
Was to love herself and believe deep down.
She was a spark from god, with her own crown.
A little flame, could burn up bright.
If she believed, she could banish the night.
And though it may seem trite and sappy.
She could not rely on others to make her happy.
And by doing this and loving her heart.
She found her soul mate, her other part.
The light now shone for all to see.
A neon blur of serenity.

Intramural

These times of danger settle within.
On your eyelids and under your skin.
These creatures dwell out in plain sight.
They do not only pierce the night.
While people sleep and dream such dreams.
Dancing devils grow black and mean.
And they toil and think, and plot most secret.
To enter your soul, corrode; then keep it.
The ogres lick you with loving words.
That churn in your brain like diving birds.
Which peck and splinter all hope and trust.
And spit on dreams until the rust.
But these monsters don’t hide under your bed.
These horrors are the ones that reside in your head.

A Silent chorus

Inside the hollow, deep within.
Inside this heart that stutters.
Rests a reason, surrounding in a rhyme.
Thought lost for all time.
Yet dwelling quietly, silently; covered in light.
Awaiting the day sweet rains wash over it.
Like saliva on a tongue. Throbbing with such intent.
To lick away all malcontent, and chorus and ring the new dawn.