Live

Dead! Rotting, bloating, dead!
Putrification plague
This flesh no more. Parade
Those maggots elsewhere. Shed
Corruption from the soul. 
Deny Charon his toll. 

Stay the hand that nurses
The wound and break the back
Of First Clown who's soil, black,
Is strewn 'bout with curses
To the earth, foul smelling
Air, bones never telling

And the dark dismal deed. 
Dry the tears of those who,
Though tried, feign to love you. 
Stable the sombre steed
That drives the procession
With purpose and passion. 

Ignite the wretchéd wreaths
And destroy the daisies. 
Each petal a maybe
Whispered against the breeze
Of gale-force, livid nays
And gusting, placid yeas.

Dinner For Two

To venture out alone, without knowing

If I'll return takes great courage, courage

That has grown and grows still, ever growing

From cowardice. The fear of confronting

Myself indoors drives me outside to age

In mind and soul, weath'ring rain and heckles. 

Trying to free monotonous shackles

From the ankles of my still youthful life. 

Choosing to soldier on through mental strife,

Choosing not to take the easy way out

Surely must be a sign of bravery?

Or perhaps sustaining a losing bout

Is a sure sign of huge stupidity?

If I had a towel I'd throw it in,

But I lent it to the lady who ate

My heart, she needed it to wipe her face,

Revealing an innocent, pretty grin,

Then discarded it with excessive grace. 

I know I'll get it back, I'll wait, I'll wait.

I Have Clomb The Mountain...

I have clomb the mountain that clove the sky,
Once at the peak, I leapt as if to fly,
But plummet did I, to the ground, to die
And clove the mountain that clomb to the sky.
Now none shall make the same mistake as I.

John's Juice

Jack - 'John, how's the juice?'

John - 'This isn't just any juice Jack.
This is a jolt of jasmine gently infused with
juniper. It has a jagged scent of jacaranda that 
joyously journeys down the throat jumping from
sense to sense. All presented in a jewelled 
jeroboam. Jealous?'

Jack - 'Jesus Christ John! That's way out 
of my jurisdiction. You're only 6, should really be 
drinking that stuff?'

Personally New

At home, alone, reading a book one day. 
Whilst reading this book I found something new. 
I found, on each page, a new would lay,
So incredibly sure of itself too. 
A brand new word, previously unseen. 
A brand new word, previously unheard.
Although, Oxford would say, 'it was reseen!'
And Collin would agree, 'it was reheard!'
Personally, the word was new to me. 
Read, discovered, reread, rediscovered
And added to my vocabulary. 
I've done this with ev'ry word I've observed. 
Yet, whatever I read, observe or do,
I'll always find something person'lly new.

Haiku #6

Seven paths through life

Topped with diamonds, but I'm all

Hearts, I'll never win!

She Keeps My Sleep.

She takes my sleep
Leaving thoughts and dreams,
But not of sheep,
Just of her it seems.

She keeps my sleep,
On purpose i think,
And stole my sheep
With but a wink.

She keeps my sleep
And all the while
My heart she'd reap
With but a smile.

She keeps my sleep
And sheep but despite
This we both leap
For love at first sight.

A Noise In The Night

The head of the stainless steel serpent rhythmically weeps,
It's cries echo throughout the glistening white ceramic halls,
Reverberating from floor to ceiling and wall to wall,
As it's tears tumble round and down into the grimey deeps.

Lines written in hope of seeing Orionids.

What a pleasant surprise
To see such clear skies
And just in time for tonight
To see meteors burning bright
As they streak by Orion
As I watch like Endymion
Trying to make Selene swoon
Under the glow of her moon.

What is in a kiss?

What is in a kiss?
I'd trade that and this
To feel the sweet bliss
That hides in a kiss.

What is in a kiss?
I'd trade that and this
To never to miss
Just one last kiss.

How Is It That?

O, how is it that thou,
With your eyes so blue,
Skin so fair, hair of a hue
So common yet unique,
Can allow me to peek
At thee with eyes anew?

O, how is it that I,
So malleable
In your hands, am not able
To explain the rhythm
Which my hear takes on,
Some sort of love drenched spasm
That lasts from now to anon?

O, how is it that we,
Both bright and both young,
Are not together
Exchanging wit and tongue,
To converse and cuddle
Whatever the weather?
Mind the puddle.

Fragments #1

For lack of wench and want of mead
My fingertips to my temple knead
Where upon I hear tick-tocking
Of a most peculiar ring.
The face of time this ring doth bear
But a smile, this face, it doth not wear........

Dark clouds above
Overshadow young love,
Rain pitter patter drips
A meeting of lips
The glowing of hearts
Never to part......

From thy beauty I lend my wit,
To praise thy beauty I use it
Along with aught else I can find
'Mongst books, the skies and muses nine.
Please be kind O daughters of Zeus
Fill me with words that I may use
To warm the heart of my lady
And praise thy gift of inspired poesy.........

This bottle full o' bobs,
(A whisky bottle no less)
Is a symbol of hope
For when times are hard pressed........

BookCrossing.

Be it on the bench in a park
Or on the steps of the town hall,
Openly welcoming readers,
Keeping literature and adventure
Circulating through fresh new minds,
Reminding all of the power of words.
Often forgotten are books, but I
Strive to give them a second chance,
Saving them from dusty shelves
Inside dusty rooms amongst those
New, shiny, fancy gadgets, so
Go now and hunt down a good book.

The Objects I Possess

O how I wish the objects I possess,

The contents of my room, the shirt on my back

Could speak out loud the events I forget,

The gaps in my memory that hinder

Me on my journey towards happiness.

Happiness! Potentially happiness,

Maybe happiness (but probably not).

Miniature flashbacks of words and actions

Of indiscriminate consequences

Hidden inside the objects I possess.

An Unhappy Marriage

Have you ever tried to stop dreaming?
I have.
I needed a break from the screaming.


Do you find ways of staying awake?
I do.
It's a long way up to the lake.


Can you take control of your life?
I can.
I've just gone and drowned my wife.

Failure To Impress

Shall I play a pretty piece for thee
Upon my guitar, plucking strings
That resonate in such sweet harmony
whilst mine novice heart softly sings
Along to a heavenly melody
As pure as fresh water springs?


Or perhaps I'll paint a picture
With each stroke worth a thousand words,
Each word designed to describe a creature
As beauteous and rare as birds
Of paradise, such dazzling features
Which my brush carefully disturbs.


My blistered fingertips stained with hues
Invented to rightly portray she.
She who I've failed to amuse
With my Music, Art and Poetry.
Created as if there's nothing to lose
As she waits for a man that's not me.

Street Lamps

The eyes of the Devil, unnat'ral light,
Glaring through my bedroom window at night,
Disturbing sleep from near by and afar,
Denying me the beauty of the stars.

Falling.

I'm falling, falling, falling, falling fast,
And faster, faster, faster, faster still.
I wonder, how long can this feeling last?
And what will be the price of such a thrill?
A thrill defying logic; how and why
Can I fall with my feet firm on the ground,
Without the fear, I may affix, to die,
Whilst falling faster than the speed of sound?
Perhaps I'm not to question the details
Of my descent? Instead, enjoy the ride;
Providing such a rush when all else fails
To please me, barring the one I espied.
    The one who takes, with ease, my heart aloft,
    But leaves it to meet the ground, hard or soft.

Seeing Rhymes.

Some words that rhyme are seen not heard,
Take a look at the word above
For example, as I remove
The first letter to make it beard.
Some words are just weird, like 'hiccough',
Which is pronounced 'hiccup', although,
Most words that end like the word 'plough'
Confuse me, making reading tough.
Despite this, I do like to hear
And see the words rhyme when I read
Poetry, and after I've read
Them I think about how I tear
    Out my hair at how my work should
    Be, whilst failing to break the mould.

My Day To Day

Every morning I wake up
Get in the shower
Wash my hair
Brush my teeth
Go downstairs
Pour myself a bowl of cornflakes
Make a cup of tea
Then I place my soul on a rack
And proceed to beat it
With my bleeding heart
Throughout the day
'Til the dread of sleep and dreams
Dreams that dangle
Hope of happiness
In my face
Like a carrot on a stick
Before kicking me in the b****cks
Then I wake up
It's a mundanely viscious f***ing cycle.