A poem simply sounds the bell, of that which words could never tell.

IMMACULATE MISCONCEPTION

Veiled by the fabric of conceptualisation
life assumes a metaphorical,
rather than an actual, substance,
becomes permanently disguised
as a simile of its real self.
Lost in a token world
we may spend our entire time
hopping the stepping stones
of generalisation,
hiding behind the pillars
in the temple of the status quo
In constant search of our reflection,
"Where is the glass
that will reveal my true face?"
The labyrinth lures us further and further
into its enmeshing snares,
the false beliefs and lies
that stain and dye us to the bone.
The answers will never be true
until we ask
"Who am I that asks the question?"
Then the journey may begin.

PROVOCATION

The complicity of woman
That rare softness,
A tacit promise
Of tactile paradise,
Intimate corners,
A warm sheath,
Home for a sword,
Skin deep,
Only a flesh wound.

Crawling on her belly now
Skin caked in dust,
The fabled vow of gallantry,
That mythic trust
Shattered,
The crucible of life
Violated by
The Anatomy of Lust.

Twisting down the
Long avenue
Of morality,
Squealing and
Squirming
At ankle height,
Self-righteous bolts
Of judgement
Searing down
From every eye,
Branding that flesh,
Sealing those lips,
Scrambling her mind,
Ignoring her soul.

It is blind,
The eye of Justice
Who holds the balance,
A full measure of corruption
In her scales.

HOW NOW

It's funny how
The time of now
Is never all the same,
With different light
By day and night,
Sometimes a different name,

With half awake
And half asleep,
Or somewhere in between,
And half that come
And half that go,
Or know not where they've been.

Upside down
And downside up,
Yet no one out of place,
For outside in
Or inside out
We're all one human race,

And all so clever
At taking forever
To finally put things straight,
So how is it funny
If now we never
Make time, until it's too late?

It's funny how
The time of now
Is never.
All the same.
With different light,
No day or night,
And no one to take the blame.

WOOING THE FROG

Disseminated knowledge sparks across etheric synapses,
our exo-brain encompassing the earth.
Fibres, cables, whirring monoliths with diodes winking,
signalling onwards
to the magic panes into which we gaze,
sometimes for days.
Lost in a cerebral out of body experience,
passing little packages,
streams of binary spermatozoa,
sowing the seeds for a stranger's needs.

Spider like we wait,
a motionless king
at the hub of our own web empire,
sensing,
ready,
tense as a tightly coiled spring.

A revelation,
faster than the blink of an eye,
someone else has caught a fly.

It felt like one tiny heartbeat,
a nanosecond of insight,
In a flick of the tongue,
A shock of knowledge,
vaporised by its own heat.

Gone . . . gone . . .
Into the abyss . . .

Perplexing, puzzling frog,
have you a care?
Would a strange reversal,
perhaps a kiss,
transform you into a princess?
All from the comfort
of a swivel chair.


SELF-INFLICTED

Because we need
So we think it,
At first a tiny, shiny seed,
A grabbed-at-fairground rhinestone trinket,
Fortune's new found lure we heed -
Soon to surely bleed,
then drink it.

Down soaks a glowing warmth,
Replenishing the roots
it nourishes.
Up shoots a growing dwarf
Obsession suits so well,
it flourishes.

We bend to it,
Tend to it,
Hell never puts an end to it,
We'll find it
Clogs our empty pockets,
Spins our whining cogs and sprockets,
Sparks old plugs in wiry sockets,
Lightening up our damp, dark world.

The serpent, freed by inattention
From our nestling loins, uncurled,
Entwines the spine and next conjoins
Its spiral ascension
With a final intention
To spike the heart,
To strike the mind.

Because we need,
We believe it.
The art of love
Is redefined.


BITTERSWEET

The hand of grief
Tore out his heart
And cast it to the ground,
Not to steal it,
Like a thief,
But reveal the contents found.

Bittersweet, bitter and sweet,
To find his heart beat incomplete.

The earth stained red,
Blood turned to clay,
And naught worth keeping there did lay,
No fondest thought or word retained,
No precious lover's pearl remained
Beyond that moment, past that day.
Fast was seeping all away.

Bittersweet, bitter and sweet,
To find his heart beat incomplete.

HOPE

I grapple daily
With the demons of darkness,
That slip into my heart
As it opens like a flower
To receive your radiance,
The brightest hope
I ever could conceive,
The crystal cavern,
My farthest place,
Where first I ventured
On seeing your face -
Now filled with it's brilliance.

Heavenly trust
Has forged my shield,
Divine honesty my sword,
My armour, truth that will not yield,
My faith revealed in candid word,
Yet still I curse that lesson told
"All that glitters is not gold"
As if to prime my soul for fear,
As if to warn that none so dear
Could ever be the one I hold.

EAST WEST

The clamour of the day subsided,
I'm surrounded by my own space,
And time stretching out before me.
A crescent moon tonight
Rising in the western sky,
Needle sharp at each end,
Pricks my mind
Causing me again to think of her,
Devotion now lies to the east.
My heart in supplication,
Turns and remembers,
I offer a secret, whispered prayer.

AURORA HUMANUS

Our rainbow skin
An envelope of fire,
Aurora Humanus,
Warmth from the electric earth
With sacred power
To comfort and heal,
Kiss with light,
A soft caress of gold,
The colours of touch
Melting
At an outer edge
Not defined,
Subtle beings
Re-combined,
Contours mapped
by an iridescent fluidity,
Polarities spark and fuse
At the zenith,
The keystone of contact shared,
Atomic attraction
Of the adored,
Brushed with,
Flushed with,
Liquid sensation,
In silent exchange,
Love outpours.