Monday, January 30, 2012

I close my eyes

On my own I can feel the muse


Elaborately carved

Between the two suns

Delicate as lace on a wing

Words drift effortlessly

Between the two lips

Falling where they may

Light casting shadows to the wind

Touched in soft blood

Mosaic’d In fallen leaves

Upon the four walls of time

Impaled in ink of red

Misplaced smiles gather

Quills plucked from the silver tunic

Scrawl haphazard mumblings

Diminished from the mind of madness

Be grateful for the dreams of less

Unfallen tears silvered on the back of a hand

Promise love in this death of night

Vermillion heartbeats linger on the vine

Whither and bask in the spectrum of light

Look away as the chimes ring in the evening sunrise

Flowers allowed to wax and wain in the zephyrs

Turn petals to the earthen ground

Drench in the nectar and wash away the sins

Shadows blend with the tombstones marking the passing of time

Long slender gnarled talons scratch at the corners marking their territories

Its in the dark where the shadow puppets dance with the marionettes

Sans strings held aloft by the chalices streamed in rubies of green

And the demons breath flown on a feather of doves

A grimace turn to blood as fear holds these precious thoughts

Times skips its beat missing a cue as a blemish engages a gaze

And its love that hold a place in this heart as dogs bark to be fed

I wash away

Glisten as the water traveling in dance

Cleanses a tarnished mind

Sunday, January 22, 2012

I sit in Silence

The muse knows and now so do I


This day I took a life

From the smoke

And smells

That permeate this

That is


This life

From the warmth


From the cold

In this skin

Living in

This life

From the violence


From those

That are known

In that

This life

From the addictions

False beginnings

From hope

That tempt


This life

And to this I kiss the sun

I kiss the ground

I kiss you goodbye

This life was my own

Friday, January 20, 2012

All she ever wanted

The muse gives me a silver ring


We all have a tale to tell

On the road of broken dreams

Each one special

In their own words

To the teller of the tale

A broken circle

A beating to the heart

Someones lost for good

Forever a souls set free

An addiction to the bottle

The needle

The wheels that roll down the highway

Can run no more

As I listen to the words

Spilling from the bottom of the bottle

And I call another round

Red rimmed and bloodshot

The smoke gets in my eyes

I scratch the 3 day growth

And cough

As Ive told this tale before

And Ill tell it again

And I will listen to yours

Silently acknowledging

The words of woe

From another lost bandit

Skimmed on the way to nowhere

Asking is this the way to hell

Sipping the cheap Tequila

Burns as the one before

And the one before that

Silently tonguing the hole in my shoe

Squinting at the smoke haze

Hoping it will be alright in another morning

Always feels the same as before

All she ever wanted

Was to dream

Sunday, January 15, 2012

In time

The muse and I drink to the past and what will become


Paint me a photograph

With a kiss

The bullet explodes in my head

And I drink away the night

Puff away another cigarette

Perched on the eve of this destruction

Or this bar

As she sells razorblades

From the corner of her mind

While the shadow of the posies

Casts a shadow on her grave

All the while laughing at the killing joke

Life sweetens this revenge

Some semblance of doubt

Allows me to remonstrate

With the memory of her voice

Clearly chattering in my head

Selfless summers

Move what once was a heart

Simmering in the colour of blood

And she lies

Beneath the ground

Tangled in the roots

Smile never to be found

I drink again

Smoke another cigarette

Raise this glass in toast


In time we will meet again

Thursday, January 12, 2012

Sacred Skin

I play with a different Muse


Pushing rusty four inch nails into my shuttered eyes

As I bleed from the palms of my hands

Exposed from the pain that inserts itself into my veins

Leaves the ground coated in silver skin

Back from the lies

That live in the eyes of the forgotten

A bow to the sorrow

A gift to that I cannot control now or ever

Judge a book by how its bound

Its not the words written within but those who wrote them

I close my heart

Its bleeding in silver that cannot protect forever

In a field of poppies

I choose to remember the dead

Moonlight caresses the swell of crystalline waves

Flowers weep liberating tears tenderly on the cusp of a whim

Self inflicted hell gathered with the taste of the dirt

Gathering precious visions on the floor of the church

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Reflected in Sand

The muse holds a key and I the lock


Cast in the shadow of a silver smile

A look to turn and hide

Displays of affection wont bother

Its in the dark I will play

Bittersweet regret

Twisted amour

Tender as a misshapen vine

Asleep in the briars

These memories will lay

Sufferance of gold

Bonded by knot

And by heart

Stream from these hands

I stare from the grey

Images are ghosted

I am reflected in sand

Thursday, January 5, 2012

In a while

A drink from the muses pool of sweet revenge


Left to soak in the consequences

Attracted by silver linings hung out to dry

Flapping on the breezes of manic thought

I while away the daze

Street lights burn down on me

Stenched in booze and cigarettes

Acrid words burn their way into my eyes

I while away the nitez

Sweet summers lasted more than I can take

Taken a love and twisted into grotesque

Entangled and entwined in thorned  shadows

I while away the morn

Minutes turn to days to nights

Waysted in consecutive extrusions

I blow a kiss to the remembrance

N lick the blood from my fingers

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I seek not

The muse coats this write in barbs as we should not seek sympathy from simplicity


I draw into your dreams

Squinting through the sockets of my hooded jade eyes

Wrap them in silver around my cortex of eons

Leaking simple phrases of love from my ears

Coating the gold of my earrings in jewels of cocaine

As you sniff condolences on the posies of daises in your nimble shaking hands

Pupils enlarged to encourage sympathy from others unknown to you

Suffered in a falsehood of vanities and self serving writings

Scattered as treasures drifted in the snow

A murder of crows shadow and darken your corner

Caw cawing in unison attracting the flow

Humbled am I to speak not of mine

Drifted in on a blackened wing

Held close to this heart be not of yours

Or shared of others

In this thing we call prose

Things we should not seek of

For glory of this or ours

Sunday, January 1, 2012

First kiss

The muse watches from a distance


Starlight in silver captured in cusped hands

Harlequins breath in colours of cocaine splendor

Hands reaching from beyond the looking glass

Sprinkle gold dust on the footfall of the betrothed

Liquid butterflies resplendent in eloquent vowels

Tasty morsels lick around the profound

Nails in black painted from the sky in eons of jade

Silver dollars line the streets paved in cobblestone footprints

Dilly daddle a prose of angels

Silken knives slice the airs sweet grace

Eyes dreamt of diamonds reflect a sweet void

If I kiss you in Paris will it be all to late