We kill the cure
Condemn the curse
We shout and spit
As though it fashion
Is it!
The words we use
No smiles, all eyes
And fingers pointing
‘That’s what they’re for’
Are they!
A reckless adventure
Inferno in waiting
Made for decay
Meant to delay
Does it!
Prefabricated values
Shoved down throats
Gagging, we choke
For the wordkilkers
It hurts!
And I sit, write
Hide and worry
Wondering, just wondering
Have they won?
Lord no!
Please no
Cant have
I’m begging
It was not her perfume, exquisite though it was
Neither was it her hair, the colour of a waking dream
Nor her lithe and slender body, mesmerising as a nymph
It was her eyes, always her eyes
Those light-consumptive orbs of splendour
Darker than the abyss and deeper than the pit
Blacker than black, as ink pooled in the night
In obsidian she saw me, and swallowed me whole
Nocturnal was her way, that of bat and fox
Ever cunning was she, crafty even
For their was no escaping her personal radar
Her wiles nor her will nor her want, if she wanted
In darkness she entrapped, constricted and constrained
Till my free will cried, Adieu
And my essence begged her for more
If it was mine, for doubt had manifested
Was I her plaything, her simple marionette
A puppet with its strings slashed, limping, lurching
Into a lightless, lifeless heap, gone unseen
Just a man in a mystery, though never his own
Staring into ebon midnights and praying for redemption
But never from the one he should have
Only ever from the one who willed it
Prepared to sacrifice his eyes, if still possessed
But when she came; what can I say
Those eyes shining through the aether
Like onyx moths to a heart once gold and gleaming
But not any more, never any more
And everything I’d ever thought or known
Everything I’d ever felt or imagined
Gave way in slack-jawed anticipation
Of being delivered, devoured, destroyed
And here it’s was, or is, or remains
The simple undiluted truth of her feasting
The reality she made, maintained and perfected
For me, just for me, or so she reminded
As there was a truth, my salient undoing
That demoness though she was, unruly child of Beelzebub
All she asked for was nothing, not a thing
The truth: I begged she take my soul
This jagged smile she plays for fun
An indelicate balance tilted in her favour
Such an exact science, applied and described
Crimson painted, plum or sea blue
It matters not
Styled for the moment, smudged with a wave
Exposed is an exposure kindly received
Works both ways she says
And I believe her because she’s grinning
It can only be glee, can’t it?
Trap set, locked and straining
The night vibrates with palpable anticipation
She closes. We close. They close
The next stage of a plan planted
Grown in a place where the sun don’t shine
Tended with steel wool and polish
Scrubbed to angelic perfection
Just awaiting the clack of horizontal gates closed
Where glinting blinds
So eyes are closed
The chink of twinned metal resonates through my spine
Pull away, but I can’t
Free yourself, but I won’t
And she has me, as she’s had those many others
Those tin soldiers, smelted and melted
Reduced to puddles of oozing goop
Sucked through barbed wire lips
With a straw for a tongue
I’ve lost. She’s won. All over
But the night is long and I own pliers
So perhaps I’ll try again tomorrow
If this hurt of teeth and talons renders numb
Or slashing words and blunt-nosed answers
Tied up with twine, perhaps a handcuff, too
Fails to bring a stinging stimulus
Then what’s the point in pain, my love
If ever there was one, yes, if ever
Has it vanished, upped and left, retracted
Fluttered away on cold breaths and steam
Impaled itself upon a willow strip
Just gone. All gone. Run away forever
Left a soul in need of something suddenly pain-less
Surreal, suggests the fish-headed man
Battling against societal currents, swimming against the tide
He’s getting nowhere fast just as he likes to
Bobbing up on occasion so plastic ears might listen to
A piano with bones instead of keys sounding a glockenspiel salute
That migrating sparrows, pink and proud, nod agreeably to
Whilst carnivorous sunflowers snap them
From the air like feral children with donated candy flosses
This I observe with dispassion, this I see and now believe
As governments say we aren’t dying fast, but slowly
And scientists place hands in back pockets
To withdraw cigars rolled up in green papers
The Queen’s head is on mine. She’s weeping
She was that age, that ageless something
Between rose petal cheeks and silver waves of fascination
Where the foundations moved but the plans never changed
Where her eyes only ever shone brighter, more acutely than before
Piercing like twin stars set in her own personal heaven
A girl with a woman’s knowing, woman with a girl’s innocence
The sort of carefree soul who bought coral rings just to remember other people’s dreams
It was easier for her living through the dreams of others, I think
As she had no time to waste on her own
I’ve forgotten what they called her because her name never really mattered
Not to those who shared her timeline, her space, her place
A name, as with the asking her age, was pointless
For whoever took the time to speak to the wind
When the only thing that mattered was feeling it rustling their hair
No, her name was only sought by those determined to tame her
To mould and conform her; they might as well have bottled an ocean
Elemental, unbridled, let loose on us all
An ageless angel without a prayer of surviving, she couldn’t have cared any less
And when I was with her, neither could I
Yet, now, I wished I’d known it
Guessed or made up something to define her soul
To capture the uncapturable even if but for a day
I suppose I will until my own spark fades
And all those dreams with it of her body pressed to mine
Route 66, East to West
Peddle to the floor
Hair a mess
Driving a daydream
Nightmare or more
Is this forever
Where the road is the law
Passing the steers
Who nod and agree
Each carrying less
Than my mental debris
Faster and faster
Just fumes for a bride
The Pacific, it beckons
Blue seas open wide
For miles and miles
And then countless more
This Vultureless carcass
Beyond nature’s laws
Deserts and mountains
Blue skies, vast and true
My improbable notion
Of a hitch-hiking you
Swamped senses struggling
Unable to cope
They grow worse by the yard
God! Hand me a rope
And suddenly there
As air touches sea
My smiling persona
Now failing on me
The route ends
My velocity… does not
Thank you for reading
Richard
Such candid emotions
They bite at your skin
Nipping and teasing out the truth
Un-gentle persuasions
So close to true pain
That know the answers before they are given
Shaking out falsities
Like a dog with a bone
Whose teeth will never blunt
And eyes never tire
But the last laugh is yours
As the agony of withdrawal builds
For the simple reality is this
They could’ve just asked
Pastels in the sky
A new day born of pinched cheeks
Twenty-four hourly
Author’s note: It’s amazing what you can find hiding amongst the sheep and guinea fowl on a cold English day.
Wandering Yorkshire
This Andean visitor
Thinks he is a sheep
