Fly Away

Blood-stained feather underneath her arm,

Bitter lick.

Above her tongue.

Smooth, red drink. Thickened barbs.

“Why?” she cries.

Telescopic eyes pierce the vaults of heaven.

Stiffened vanes, clipped wings stretched out to dry.

She tries to fly.

Scissor paws, growling teeth clentched beside her.

Imprisoned. Raped from her destiny.

I pray, drained, embalmed from hope

But I pray, still,

That she flies one day.

Tired

It feels like my heart is tied to a braided jute rope,
Like a broken cleat left dangling off the boat,
And the propellers speeding out of control through the liquid enclave,
As my heart slaps to and fro over the transverse waves.

My crystalline mind lying gently on the surface of the ocean,
Whistling eerie echoes of ice, gentle tunes, harmonic motion,
The cosmetic shimmer glistening over it from the sunset gleam,
Now assaulted by the pollution of this maritime machinery. Read More

The Facsimile

“Wake up!” she cried, slapping his cheek.
A lifeless head, still, limp.
“I am here.” Startled, she slipped.
Taken aback.

A facsimile? She turned to this galley slave,
His half body standing out from the grave,
Shovel over his shoulder, insolent gaze.
Smooth as tarmac.

She looked back at the lifeless soul,
His red lips, green eyes, etched into cuneiform
Across his sinless face. Cold, but warm.
Hair jet black.

“That part of me is now dead,” snorted the renege,
He shovelled deeper and deeper as he digged,
Raining black moulded loam, his arms a drilling rig.
Dirt track.

“A grave for who?” He disappeared,
His pride, his vanity, the hubris all engineered
His futile end when his soul was auctioneered.
Memorial plaque.

Rage Against The Parasites

“Ouch” she slapped her arm, missed.
Those little creatures crawled under her skin,
She watched as their vicious teeth bit into her veins.
Those imposters same,
Sweet sounds, kind words, all echo from their mouths
They call. They call and you obey.
Singing sirens from the devils gate. Read More

Can Anybody Hear Me?

“Can anybody hear me?”
I turn and peer into the darkness,
My mind a little weary.
The altitude kaleidoscope the chorus
Of a formless song. Sing,
“I’m here. I’m here.” Read More

The Tree of Life

Her stained toes clutch to the narrow cliff-edge.
Prepared, crumbled stone trickle softly down
the overhang. Tap tap tap, a musical echo drops like
blood from the crucified lesions punctured over her crown. Read More