One, Matchstick Pessimist.

I am squalor.

I dwell on the spark of a match that –

Soils the clean shirt of the night.

I am the mist of a dream.
I am a London pigeon stained by countryside.
I am puff pastry, I am diet coke.
I am missed trains.
I am “sorry you did not get the job”
I am “this train is being held here to regulate the service”
I am awkward glances
I am the beautiful blossom boy at Stepney Green
I am a broken battered toy, a Slut on the Game
I am an exchanged stare
I am heartache
I am longing
I am your favourite child
I am your worst enemy.

I behold the sun as a foolish old man
And force him to surrender his pale daughter

And in doing so I shall sully the corridors of Angel throats’
Just as white waves choke pale sea

Allowing only a tuneless whisper to crawl, note by note
From ‘neath a muted memory.

Leaving what in this wretched merry place?
Only my reprimand.

But should I find that I descend in stature from -

A great wood to a splinter,
Then I shall laugh, laying

In wait, sealed away.

Ready to strike,
And paint the dark.

Ruminations on the Heart (For Ash)

There is always going to be a great shadow on every heart, if it’s left to grow. It’ll be there, Paler than a bluebird flying with a wounded wing. Surrounded by a crown of thorn curled and wicked, like a stale pastry lattice that no sea of alcohol could ever revive, or even silence. In that very same regard, no amount of smoke could ever fumigate or blind you to its darkness. It’ll seep anonymous through your veins, and in vain you’ll fight her but no!

……
How lo, she’ll dance and dream of nightmares. Through this troublesome folly, listless poets enslaved by vanity have poured tears into memories and cried over things that have not yet happened. Your very soul will weep until dry and wrinkled, old and begging for the sweet nourishment of simple life-light, to breathe, love and dance.

Let this spectral dark wretch be the opposite of its foul implication. Like a tree’s branch lingering in the expanse of a neighbor’s garden, on a warm day cooling your very best friend. Let the shade of the branch leak into another heart and quell the anger of one you love. The shadow works both ways. Depending on whether the warmth soothes, or its searing white heat starves the sea of your emotions. Feed your soul. Do it right now. Smile. People love you. People that don’t even have to think of you or for you. Because for them to love you, is second nature. Bless you. I love you without even thinking about it.

Not everything is black and white, its true. Not every sunny day ends in disaster.

Just know on the ones that do, that I love you so very much.

Parched

Today -

Moments seem to slip through fingers

Like so much dirty water,

Talking to illness -

At the bottom of a well.

Like so much dirty water,

Wearing new clothes -

Trying on new streams,

Joining new banks -

As ever, feeling old hat.

Today -

Rhyme has been ruined,

Like so much rust

Aching on brave red lips.

Decayed, praying

For some naked dream

To resuscitate -

The elderly flicker behind,

Its defeated eyes.

Today -

She stumbles, feebly -

Across a thought,       drifting

Not quite able, though trying -

To open the key with a lock.

But its harder than dirty water, harder than -
Finding yesterday on the clock.

Moonlight

An odd sun has borrowed my sky
The strangest stranger has asked me why
Crowded faces seem to borrow
From me, my mirth tomorrow

In hope that the sun won't mind
Meeting my mistress of a crescent kind
Poorer than poor and twice as wealthy
I see her come she sneaks upon the stealthy

Moonlight.
Delicate as flame
Starstruck.
By your twilight fame.
Bright flight.
Across the plains -
Of delight.
Before fading away
Moonlight.

My Sea Siren

I sold the seas to seven souls
To see if lies were true
To my surprise
My lover's eyes
Were softer than the blue.

But something worse a pretty curse
Stood alone in white
Laced and torn, in waters worn she -
Set fire to the night.

/

"I was just following orders, My arms are tied." So said the clock.

Bright haunted souls painted black -
Like starless sky.
A pale sea strangled by white waves
Day-less noon beckons the night to choke the sun
Each doleful moment a century.
Every trivial second an Aeon's funeral.

The tragedy of time,
Dies with this rhyme,
You want it to carry on?
How? its gone.

Marie Imaginary

Speak to me, Marie.
Show me how your
Dainty little diaries
Drink the delicious little secrets
Your mouth couldn't quite
Trouble silence with -
For fear of being told to be quiet.

Clockwork Childhood

I watched minds age -
Idyll, to idle.
Faces,
Like clocks ticking.

Weary eyes,
With -
Furrowed brows,
Furnished by time.

Trying to embrace the ghost
Of infancy, instead -
Grasping for the glass
That cynicism poured for -

Milky innocence.

With -
Cheap whiskey,
That -
Tastes a touch too cheap.