Poetry(21)

6

Bipolar

What's real?

Yesterday I was optimistic as the sun, broad as the sky, impish as the morning mist. Now I bleed, slowly, like a finger through my letterbox. Today,the sky-hooks are embedded in my fllesh again, and I am dead inside....Read On

2

Rain

The future is bleak.

The rain which beats upon the glass points the way to poison gas. The sun which warms the stagnant pool goes down at dusk and leaves it cool. The clouds mushrooming overhead tell us there’s much more to dread. The lightning stroke which tears the sky carries death to low and high. Good and evil, love and hate, they’re all waiting at the gate. Betrayal, fear, pain, and death can be...Read On

1

Child

Cot death

once my belly was as full as the moon, till God scowled upon my boy and made him die; now we are afraid to speak to one another, you and I, lest we bring him back to us....Read On

1

Somewhere

Life,

somewhere a drowned man walks along the shore, bemoaning the dry land on which he walks. he doesn’t notice the rank seaweed caught in his hair like a beggar’s crown. the abortion room gives up its dead while the colour of blood is still red is red. a woman sits alone wandering in wit then walks in a circle over and over it like a bored pair of compasses. her brain decomposes, as...Read On

1

Bullied

Bullying

In the black ball of the sky the weary moon tries to outdo the stars, but it is too much for the ancient fool! The haystacks, like sliced hot dogs sauced in black, blend into the deep grey night, and are recklessly in denial. The wind, though icy, coddles the darkling landscape, yet nothing roosts. She pulls out the short thick rope...Read On

1

Scarecrow

Watching

in a field he stands, his feet in darkness, his dirty ragged face dull with the moon’s silver light. the festoonery of rags is about him, each borrowed garment with its story. those eyes he wears are not blind withal; the empty sockets are filled with seeing. last night there were two in the lane, and he watched a dreadful violation; heard the terror in her voice, saw the sharp blade...Read On

3

Crows

The past catches up with us

once I watched just after dusk a huge flock of birds fly massively from an old mildewed pier. deserted it was; the pier I mean. it had sat there in its stinking mould for many years, friendless and alone. then the birds, crows I’m sure, (though they say crows only roost in trees) detached themselves from the dark silhouette and skimmed the sky. as one small flock passed overhead a...Read On

2

I Remember My Dress

A relationship you will never get over.

I remember my dress close-fitting and black imprisoning my body like shrink wrap I remember my hair long and dark brown with a narrow band of velvet tight over my frown I remember that day we made our plans and with promises like a welding torch you said you would never desert me your eyes two blotches of sealing wax revealing nothing. now I am yours forever; and from where you cut...Read On

1

Parts

Inspired by the movie, Jeepers Creepers, and by those twisted artists who use body parts in art

I wonder then if that is why I chain you up and steal your eyes? I really need all that you are, become for me a rich bazaar. Give me your lungs to help me breathe, I’ll prise them out with gentle ease. Relinquish that: a Roman nose and how about a pair of those: kidneys are they? Nicely done! Your legs as well, now you won’t run. I’ll have your ears to help me hear, I’ll take...Read On

2

Why is the sky so silent

Thou shall not kill

Why is the sky so silent. Clouds hang around like junkies. The sun, floating mountebank, hides slyly, and is as clever as he looks. On a black branch sits a crow, its ragged feathers an insult to decorum. He pretends to preen, but gets on with his real business, the old amoral spy. We won’t find meaning here, in this devil’s back- yard. One of the higher branches lifts its bony...Read On

1

Locked

Trapped in time.

It is a windswept house; yet still. The windowless walls are impenetrable; the lone tenant doesn’t bother to try the door, any more than she would aim a camera at the sky to make sure it’s there. She has grown so used to this place she can remember no other; nor does she want to. She does not hate the darkness, but turning off the light would be like murdering the sun. When...Read On

0

She sits on dark grass

Pain that is too much to bear

She sits on dark grass, like a migrating bird with a broken wing, calling his name. The moon, like a ball of bright wool, lazes softly in a tree’s fork, its feet hanging over into space. She has chosen night for her task because she is empty; there are no angels here. A light rain beats its gentle rhythm on the leaves, a benighted squirrel jerks its hairy head, suspicious of the...Read On

2

The Owl

Red in tooth and claw

fat and feathery-soft, deceptively weightless; he floats, a skilful sackful of ether, on invisible waves. he silhouettes against the moon’s pale circle, growing with his deadly descent. and in each of his watchful eyes the image of a black rat, fearless yet unwary prey, fills all his vision. as he swoops to murder, a raucous cry rips open the black star-pocked sky-dome; the cold beak ...Read On

4

On the death of a child

Loss

as the soft bird sits gently on her smooth patient eggs even so my hand rests on your tiny lifeless head...Read On

0

Labyrinth

The tangled web of relationships

You come to me at dusk with the faces of old lovers tattooed on your breasts. You say they don’t mean a thing, and then like Ariadne you hand me a ball of crimson thread so I can escape from the mazes inside. I don’t trust those shards of glass you use for eyes or those lips cracked and bloody you make your promises with. As you sing me to sleep, my head on your lap like a bird’s egg,...Read On

4

No Escape

It's lonely in the dark

When black clouds swarm around me and reach down deep inside, I push away the darkness and huddle close and hide. I tremble with the terror that has me in its frame, the dead tide sweeps across me as a darkness and a flame. I drown beneath those waters, I choke on that dead air; the fire creeps up my body from my feet up to my hair. As demons eat my entrails and goblins burn my skin, I knock...Read On

4

Cold Mother

The darkness of regret

She sits alone in the turgid darkness, her swollen breasts full as a gourd, empty as sin; missing his boneless gums. She weeps, but no tears come; she is dry as tumble-weed. Her belly opens like a Venus fly-trap to capture one of those wrinkled little bodies, but there is no going back. The darkness has taken him. The mirror throws back a cowering dwarf, leering and grim. Her face...Read On

4

No Time

Too late

I stood on the bridge; the hand in my pocket holding the watch you gave me before you died. it sat there alone in its perspiring womb. the dark was more than night; it squeezed through my pores. the glass grinned sheepishly, like a drunken mourner, and the numbers fell about like hailstones; but it was the hands that lifted an Accusing finger. as I looked down, a darker Me than I...Read On

7

Who

The unanswered question.

Her face barely above the water The dead girl floated like a poisoned fish. Her eyes, which had given up being Human, were locked like a safe. Her tentacled and deliberate hair Gesticulated with silent slow-motion Hopelessness, as though she wanted To tell her tale, but the numbness of Death prevented her. Silence was the only noise she made. The sun prickled the surface with...Read On

1

Vulture

Some people never give up

she died this morning, her bony little hands clutching her pigeon chest, a look almost of relief on her tiny face. sitting upright on the hard chair he feels a cold black thrill, like the Nazi he is. what will he do now? he's not used to being alone. he goes upstairs where the Body lies, his mouth twisting into a maelstrom of rage as he mutters a curse...Read On

5

The Promise

The old story of love and betrayal

A promise from my lover is the glass upon the floor, broken by my lover and his dirty, fucking whore. A promise from my lover is the glass beneath my feet which cuts me and unfolds to me my lover’s black deceit. A promise from my lover is the blood that wakes the dead, and dyes the hems of my long skirt in shades of dirty red. A promise from my lover is the vine that curls between...Read On