In my last dash for love
I shut my eyes tight
Pinched my nose
And 
Dived.

I was spat out

By an angry wave.

The land is dry

Golden sand

Love has eluded me

Ever since

My mother smelled my hair

And said she loved

Me

I loved over and over

Again

To destruction

To no return.

Let it be that no prince

Will wish to spend

The rest of his days

With me.

Love cannot be

Rewound
and played again.
The tape doesn't ring
true.

Maybe I don't deserve love
or maybe I was to be spared
to live in a baren desert
of my soul.

Not letting go is a sin of
greed.
Only the desert is so vast
and so empty - not a living soul
around, only mirage 

My empty arms, empty lips
in a desert of my imagination
where someone who doesn't exist
once lived.

I don’t miss the shavings of pine needles

Fallen down on the silver lace of moss

Nor the leaf of birch tree abandoned

As I blow it out of the palm of my hand –

- it’s all locked in my heart and alive

Like the taste of blueberries straight up

from my purple-stain painted fingers.

I don’t miss the sight of the Sun melting

Into the aged, faded sky

Nor the weight of warm air on my eyelids

As it sits heavy-bottomed and dry –

-it’s all locked in my heart and alive

like the scent of wild game stirred into

the reek of diesel from dusty old jeep.

I don’t miss the crash of wave breaking

Roaring up on a black sanded beach

Nor the shade of a tree fern deep and stealthy

As the leaves fan away whispering souls –

- it’s all locked in my heart and alive

Like the steam of hot geyser erupting

With a hiss into my frozen awe.

I miss none of you gone from my sight

As you’re safely locked up in my heart

Smiling, frowning and much alive.

If I sinned, my Lord

It’s on my own account

Disobeyed your Word?

I’ll pick up the tab.

If I earned Your wrath

- and I know I did –

I am sorry, and scared,

but I still must plead -

Don’t take away

my daily bread

of love I mustered

despite myself

Don’t strike at those

I dare to love

I beg You, Lord

They suffered enough.

I will recount my sins

aloud. Can’t take them back,

can’t bring back Life

but You still can

choose not to take it away.

So please forgive

and open Your fist

To let them live

and sing You prayers

of thanksgiving before bedtime

Amen

I go with my hands in my pockets

with my soul - rusty nail, and loose change.

My heart disoriented in rib cage

throbs sharp like a knife wound, and chokes.

I go with my life in my backpack,

with torch of short flashbacks like Morse Code.

People stop me to cry on my shoulder

'bout my mother, to ask how she went.

I tell them not to be worried.

I hug them in their grief.

They cover their pain with flowers,

black tombstones and things to be done.

They cut snippets off their lives

and scatter them on my head like ashes.

I see them in my dreams as they live

and breathe sweet warm air on cold marble

of death.

If Dorian Gray is anything to go by
my mother was goodness and love.
There is light on her forehead unrippled,
there is a spark in the coals of her eyes.
Gentle breeze ruffles the barley
of her bouncy, unruly white hair
and her hands swollen with housework
feel soft like a sleeping baby’s breath.

I lived on a crystal mountain

and under the baby blue sky

my head was in clouds of vapour

in haughty detachment on high.

If my elf’s feet touched on the ground

It was to bounce off it right up

I knew of no human language

its anguish, temptation and spite.

Immortal in painless suspension

I lost food for thought and for fear

so let my feet sink in soil

and let myself voices hear.

The soil was soft like the mud

children make cupcakes from

I stuck my hands and my feet,

forgot the way back to my home.

When play was over, my feet got locked

in the moor’s quick sands. I struggle

to grasp nearest root. I spit mud.

The visit is over, I want out.

When I do I will dry up my wings

And crumble the mud from my hair

And then I will fly to the mountain

I know I can do it – I can.

When peace comes to your heart

So it will to theirs.

Peace is naught but a work of art

Caught in smiles, woman’s breasts and hair.

When the war comes into your heart

It will kill and pillage theirs.

War is all for nothing man’s plight

Stained with blood, lament and tears.

When I turn away from your heart

Cos the death of peace I can’t bear

You will stand on one warrior’s side

But no win shall bring peace again.

My soldier is coming come

On Sunday night.

I’ll cut fresh flowers

-just like he cut throats-

and dip their long stems

in water

just as his finger dipped in blood and

drew red circles on

a dead mother’s corpse.

I’ll throw myself

in his arms

and they’ll embrace me unlike

the arms thrown up in surrender.

I’ll kiss his lips

tight with rigor mortis

and bury him

just as he did

Them in a mass grave.

I’ll put the flowers on his

grave to mark my love

just as he left the imprint

of his boot

on an unmarked grave

of the Mother he’d bathed in blood.

I’ll die next to her

and protect her with my body

for when my soldier comes

for Her

For us again.

God would’ve spared

Sodom and Gomorrah

if He had found ten

righteous men.

God would’ve forgiven

sins of thousands for

the piety of a few.

Man takes revenge on millions

of the innocent

if he finds ten

sinners amongst them.

Man knows no boundaries to

his thirst for blood to quench

the crimes of a few.

When God created Man

in His own image

He was looking in a mirror.

Though he tries

Man is no God -

only God’s reflection

in the mirror.

If you must

If you really have to

take sides

in wars

Why don’t you

try and vote

Peace?

Lying in the bath

staring at the misty ceiling

pondering poetry of whales

I hear the TV

talk behind my back

Its blabber permeates

the poetry I've just pondered

and tears the mist

hung under the ceiling

Silence can do no such thing

Silence is a loner

Aloof and indifferent

The loud- , foul-mouthed TV

buries me in avalanche of words

It's a friend with plenty to say

one I wouldn't introduce

to my parents

but the only one.

I go to bed

It's still talking

about Siberian bears

I cuddle my Teddy

and tell him

I'll never send him to Siberia

He doesn't respond

ungrateful sod!

I turn the TV off

lovingly

It purrs and goes to sleep.

My imaginary friend
lived under the bed
and tickled my feet

He moved out at sixteen
hot in pursuit
of fleeing innocence

Left no forwarding address
All my confessions undelivered

You came to say goodbye -
Our universes ran parallel,
didn’t meet.

You came at my bequest
to ask me not to 
hate you.

Ashamed, painfully aware
of the end
I couldn’t let you go.

I believed our souls
had met, our
Universes crushed
into each other arms.

But you have gone.
I missed
our letters sent
and received.

Quick fingers caressing
the keyboard,
with criss-cross of kisses
tailing behind like kites.

I missed the letters
you were no longer
sending to me
But you were sending letters,
only to another.

You weren’t there to receive 
my letters with trailing kisses,
wet with tears. But I sent them
 for others to open.

I made you stay
though
my songs of joy
died on my lips
when you said
you had other 
plans.

And I miss you 
Again
as you’re building
a palisade
around your Universe.

I will call you,
Knock on the gate
of your Universe
you will look through 
your spyhole and
blink.

What we’ve had was
One in a million of
galaxies
Do you really want me
to go and search for peace
In vacuum of the Space?

I love without reserves
I love with all my heart
I claimed you all, nothing less
Just you – not fractured parts.

You gave what you could give
Concessions wrenched by me
Each time you gave some more
Your love would trickle, cease.

I sit and feel your hand is not
Outstretched towards mine
I won your silence. My fingers knot
on my dead phone, like vine.

I hope your life is rich 
Mine’s pauper without you
But the more I ask you give
The more I really lose.

I crave to hear my name
Called out by you, not asked
I know you are out there
But mum. I am not wise.

I grasped your every word
Like vows of love eternal
Sometimes it was a barter
And silence I must bear now.

It wasn’t wilful malice
That made me rage and weep
I’ll drink from silence chalice
I’ve lost you against my will.

I am to blame alone.
For losing you I must atone.
What can I say?
............................
My soul has sunk, 
Went down in shame 
like heavy, grey stone.

He wasn’t a lie. He lived my dream
… but other women’s too.
He made up worlds, planets and scenes
Hid them from light to spare me woe.

Misguided was his drive to talk
about weaknesses, endured sins. 
He thought relief his mission brought
But then the light got dim.

He wasn’t a lie but came to lie
Protecting his own dream
Of glamour nights and glitter highs
which from dullness he would steal.

He found a woman who strives for fun
And cares not for misfortunes.
His circle of life at last is done.
With her he has no wounds.

He was no lie, but sought HIS right
To be the man and master
Of his old dreams. In her he found
himself, all he was after.

He has believed in loving me
As long as she was present
in our world. She breathed
when he spoke. I came to hate…

But love should make me let go, 
Release him to his fantasy
And say no more mean words.

I cannot live with lies and secrets,
in knowledge of betrayal.
I cannot live with flashback snippets -
they swarm me, they won’t stay out.

I cannot wake up every morning
to bathe my eyes in tears.
I cannot hold my breath in longing
For peace of mind so dear!

I couldn’t share or wait my turn -
I’d given all, kept nothing back
for rainy day and trips to Hell
of his pragmatic mind.

I offered him love of pure gold,
my trust, my hopes and dreams.
He took and squandered out my world
I failed, I cannot breathe.

I cannot live with lies and secrets,
I cannot live without…

Words are gentle fingers caressing my cheek
There are deadly bullets drenched in blood and quick.

Words are easy whores - come when paid enough.
They are doves of peace, forgiveness and love.

Words are shrouds to hide crime, deceit and guilt,
Of words ‘n words alone people’s thoughts are built.

But it’s what you do and not what you say
That makes you a man, who you are, your ways.

And sometimes your words are at their own loss
To put over actions rectifying gloss.
When your brutal acts belie your sweet words
What’s left but dead silence – sharp as wordless sword,
Pain that’s unspeakable, fear which is mum,
Tears that are soundless and pantomime of cries?

Who said it'd be simple
Lied.
Life could be a simple
truth.
Or a lie, all the same
definite and final.

But it's the mush in between
the sense of the inevitable
the distance growing
the empty soulbed
the cry of a hungry
kiss.

She touched her man
put her hand on his heart
stroked his soul
he took hers 
and whispered it to sleep.

She woke up 
stranded
on a bed of wilted petals
there was a credit card
between her hand and his
heart
there was his life
embossed on the card
in gold letters

there was a night
out
flushed faces
wrinkled necks
bad legs
fat torsos
hunched revellers
lager and rolls

Her soul smiling at
a rolling meadow
a shady path
gentle breeze 
friendly dog
air and life.

His eyes smiling at
the chaos of their touches
buzzing bees
pages of a new book
with her lips marking 
the last sentence.

Looking in the mirror
pulling shrapnel of glass
out of my face
small pieces 
sharp as thorns
lodged in my skin.

They slide out
Red with blood
They used to be kisses.
I opened a door.

The house looked inviting.
Gallant, Trustworthy, Chivalrous –
- was its street address.

There were bluebells in the front garden
and a gnome on the door matt
that said WELCOME.

But all the blinds were shut
and the lights were off.
Shadows were scurrying away
tiptoeing inside, whispering
in the ear of darkness,
and the address on the door 
had no name, only a title.

I should’ve known better.
But I opened the door
and words failed me.