"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Sunday, January 26, 2014

MERCY

What brings you to this loathsome place
Where black dogs bark and guilt abounds?
Weren’t you once led by skill and drive
In topmost surrounds?

I came here for my redemption
Yet I was miserably misled.
There’s no forgiveness for mistakes,
So my soul is dead.

The victims call for execution
Of we who bled losses unseen.
They howl for gore and restitution.
Why should I be mean?

But surely there’s much more to life
Than dwelling on an unjust past?
You’ve tales to tell and verse to craft -
Lines of hope to cast.

But don’t you know the pain and shame?
Only I see doubt in every face.
Even though I know tedious truths
I see no earned grace.

And few seek works from my weak heart,
Most think they reek of pose and mime.
And the sages of our dazzling age
Reject me every time.

Then there’s no hope my wan lost friend.
I will weep to see your body sleep.
Your ashes I’ll give to kinder hands -
To feed the oceans deep.



Saturday, January 25, 2014

BUTCHERED

As the night light slinks around all the walls
Of my fortress built of loss and forfeit,
And the fragrant rain beats on my windows,
I will yearn for sleep and quiet comfort.

I scare myself so much at times like these
That my exhausted heart becomes so old
And beats with rhythms of a shattered drum
For the times that it’s been both bought and sold.

I had once hoped for a woman’s kind warmth
But there’s none left to quash my nervous sighs,
Or calm me as I dream and scream ripostes
To all their rumours and their bad-mouthed lies.

A time will come when all will be cast off
And baying crowds will slay another soul
Whose trust and faith were butchered and buried
While the good and worthy measured the hole.


Wednesday, January 22, 2014

THIS DAY

This is a day I will remember -
I feel closer to you than ever before.
Once we conversed like strangers,
Now there’s much trust and even more.
I am jubilant to see you happy
And proud to know you’re sure
Of years ahead and lifetimes
Together on one or other shore.
We will swagger through love’s jungles,
Ambling coupled as we explore,
Knowing our souls are tangled
Like tracks across the wildest moor.
Perhaps we’ve been in each other
All along as Rumi would implore;
Or maybe it’s a coup of chance
That bids us join and fly and soar.
All I see is pure perfection
In your face and mind and more,
Tendered as gifts to please my heart
And marvels for me to adore.


Saturday, January 18, 2014

PHOENIX

Are my treasured memories
Collapsing into comas of oblivion?
Does the darkness of lost years
Hide our ruin in false hopes?
And yet the reminders of you
Rise up with every morning’s light
And swoop into night’s blistered dreams
Like a phoenix in fair and fancy flight.

I walk the beaches every day
And marvel at the shades of blue.
I imagine you gripping my arm
The way you used to do.
I see your black eyes shining
As you speak and softly laugh.
I marvel as the sun kisses
Your skin just the way I want to.

If only we had been brave
And taken those final steps.
Our hearts might well have saved
Our babies from their nothingness.
But I still pray that you might rise
Adorned with triumph’s sashes
From the flames that severed us
And turned unlawful love to ashes.


Tuesday, January 14, 2014

I WANT TO

I want to see your skin glisten
With the droplets of a shower
As you dry shy and shaded,
A pageant for my adoring eyes.

I want to feel your body pressed
So warm against me as I doze,
And the cuddle of your arm,
Your breasts teasing my ribs.

I want to smell the perfume
Of your hair against my cheek,
As your head rests in a place
Between pillow and shoulder.

I want to hear you breathing
Through the darkness of night
And count the times you sigh
Or moan or speak in dreams.

I want to taste your mouth
In the first moments of day
As morning makes us restless
And desire grants us delight.


The painting is a late nineteenth century work by Edgar Degas.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

HELL

Once again I am trying to sleep
And failing to rest
As another loud party
Spills on to the street.

Ugly shrieks of women
Hideous laughter of men
Inspired by alcohol
And who knows what else.

If I complained
It would achieve nothing.
I’d seem a puritan
Or much, much worse.

And there is no
Argument with fools.
So there can be no
Discussion with drunks.

How do I know
If the women are safe?
How do I know
If children are at risk?

Such a sadness
Overwhelms me
On nights like this.

What has become
Of my nation?
Where is the culture
My father fought
To preserve?

When did such tyrants
Conquer our land?
Why do I feel foreign
Washed up on dry sand?

Who is to blame?
Is it my fault?
Then let me die
Before they kill me.