You

You are the girl
on my heartstrings sat playing
who's every touch
sends a spark
quivering down my spine.
And the softened warmth
of your own skin
resting 'gainst my own
makes hearts soar into skies
as your perfume carries me home.

Ever the girl,
who's silken curves
steal breath and heart away
a star-struck smile that glints
and hints at all you know,
and Oh! but those eyes!
laced with emerald mist
I'd give the world and all within it
for those lips if I had kissed.

Eustacia Vye

Though i vowed you'd never break my heart again,
I failed.
I let you rip it from my sleeve
dash it to the wall and let me bleed.
Trample all my hopes and dreams
set light to all you ever gave to me.

I should have seen the thunder in your eyes
your sirens song played over stormy skies
and a mind so tainted with heart breaking disease,
the power to smash me down upon my knees.

You make me hollow and devoid
of all but the sourest of emotions.
You leave me bitter, cold as ice
for your death kiss, i have paid the price.

And I now know that when you call
my own heart, your strongest weaponry of all
will draw me back for another fall,
and there my final death you drawl.

Achilles Heel

You are truly my achilles heel,
for I hate and love you with equal measure.
You are the drug now in my veins,
the one the dealer takes away
to deny me of what I need,
like sucking out the air I breath
from the bell jar on the mantle where you keep me torn
with nought but a memory of how my love was born.
Out of the night like a green sour liquor
dripping down my throat to keep me etherised.
falling into this catatonic stupor,
a melancholy existance with little hope of a future.
And whatever you give, you destroy the next day
but still my heart is forced to obey.
Like some cruel joke the world wants to play,
for I have no choice, this is how I feel.
I've fallen in love, with my achilles heel.

Enemy

You are my mortal weakness,
my single fatal flaw.
But is it really my own fault?
the people I adore.

I've suffered long
and bled a lot
under arrows blows

and yet you stay the greatest prize
the queen of both my eyes.

Love, you are a sickness,
infesting in my mind.
Your cancers wrapped about my heart,
and tighter grow the binds.....

Steptoe's Yard

In Steptoe's yard
the grass now grows.
Where once upon a dream
the tall trees throws,
in shadows mist
and nettle beds
scrap steel, and brick, did rest their heads.
Among the tufts of think coarse weeds,
(with muddy patches in between)
the ivy bushes hugging tight
to rubble piles, in fading light
of dappled green on old white vans
algae smeered from lack of man
as bluebells spring between the stones
a broken chair sits like a throne
basking in thr suns soft glows
it's feeble purpose, now unknown
a useless relic no one owns.
Just like the yard, now over grown
devoid of all of mankinds woes
and we ask, is it better off this way?
now burning drums have lost their stay
and birds and crickets over thrown
all the pain and hunger man have blown.

Love Song of the Broken man

If I could turn back the hands of the clock,
Reverse the worlds melancholy tick, tock
Take back the day I met you,
and give back every word,
I would.

If I could erase you,
Like footprints on a beach
Release my mind of your burden
And escape your ice like grip,
I would.

If I could never utter your name,
now, or through history
and learn not of your existence
never feel your mark on the world,
in a heartbeat,
I would.

If I could take everything of you,
So well folded it fits in an envelope,
And place it on a shelf,
Buried under the weight of the world,
I would.

If I could tear out this conflicted heart,
And everything its known.
Destroy every trace
Every way you helped it grow
I would,
A million times, I would.

Never Enough

If I am more to you
than a name, a face
a piece of the past
a day in your history
a shadow, been cast.

If I am more to you
than verses on paper,
words in lines
and letters of order.

If I am more to you
than a memories distant hum
a figure in the mist,
on a train that has come.

If I am more to you
than people on pavements
hurrying away to insignificant wives
dealing with problems
in their un extraordinary lives.

If I am more, not less
not the same
than I was the day we first met
and our eyes first agreed,
then be mine forever
and I'll be more for eternity.

Be Still The Girl

you're still the girl,
Standing on lone platforms
with sadness soaked eyes
and a dream in her heart.
Written on crumpled paper
like last nights phone number.

Still the girl,
the one to change the world
with a history of breaking hearts
and weakening knees,
neither your own...

Still the girl,
Standing on clifftops laughing
at the dying waves on cursed rocks below.
Like a siren, calling the sea to die.

Still the girl,
Who through nights of slumber
eyes burn bright
with a fire so fierce,
so hot, you burn white.

Still the girl.
With arms wrapped about my heart.
Neither in embrace nor strangulation
but still choking me in the dark.

Midnight Soldier

Take this night and run
onwards through oblivions shadow
past the trees where death lurks
and over darkened graves.

Burn through this hollow night
like a pheonix on wings of flame
and stop, neither for friend nor foe
before the moon catches your tails.

Pick up you sword with honour
and weild it at the stars
let the light from burning embers guide you,
to rest this midnight hour.

Come what may, this night is for the taking.
for all fighters to earn their battle scars,
let nothing here deny you
through inken skies we march.

And time will find its passage
from day into the night.
Through gritted teeth we bark
like dogs at full moons light.

We are the midnight soldiers
our weapons held within.
Forever we stand this cruel night,
awaiting the war to begin.....

Finest Hour

If this is my finest hour,
and these be my final words
think not of them as strained,
or scripted or false.
Think of them as a parting gift
of improvised dimensions.

And typed on cold granite
phrases of virtue and honour,
now meaningless to the passers by.
For everyone in the grave yard was great.
As if the devils never die,
but linger on and haunt us.

As my old bones
thrown into the sod
creaking under the weight of the world
and my cold closed eyes
and stiff icy fingers
neither blink, nor twitch at the sound
of the mourners feet drumming
on the ground,
think upon this:

If this is my final hour
and these my finest words
what life have i lived?
but one that is absurd....

We are the children
of a million forgotten sunsets
a past that is lost,
written down as nothing more
than a memory, written
on the back of a cigarette packet
and tossed in the gutter.

Our chewing gum smiles
with dropped hip march
onwards through ages storm.
Our army darkens window panes
hoods covering shadowy forms.

We'll smash through lamplights glimmer
screaming banshees in the night
old institute walls will crumble
under the sounds of our marching heels.

by the scruff of the neck we'll take life
like a crumpled denim jacket
it's sleeves dragging in the dust,
kicking up a cloud to block out the stars.

And we will steal cars,
rob banks,
and drink until we forget
we will laugh at others misfortunes
and burn throught the night like thunder.

disolusioned part 1

This is who I am,
words on paper
flowing in rhyming lines
making sounds in minds
that echo ever onwards.

This is who I am
thoughts and feelings of ink
scrawled down on pages
so what d'ya think?

Am I so useless
just a waste of good trees
better writing my message
in the afternoon breeze.

Or do I have value
maybe some worth
do I really belong
on this old planet earth...

Coming of age

I am a man now,
Where did my youth go?
washed out in the rain
or left in the snow,
to melt into nothing.
I never saw it go...

Forgotten in grasses
on a sunday afternoon
lost from a pocket
or hole in the shoe.

Was it left with the natives?
on an adventure afar
or caught in a pond
and left in a jar
on the cracked windowledge
of an abandoned tree house.
Left to gain dust
in the pages of a book.

was it left in the boot,
of my friends first car?
or was it outgrown?
left in some seedy bar,
with smoke stained walls
and sticky old floors
dim dirty lighting
and a broken down door....

Fractured

I want to find change
and i want to find freedom.
dont want to suffer, want the garden of eden.
And it wont be posh and it wont be clever
just a place in the sun for ever and ever.

Maybe I cant find the words that ring true,
and the longer it gets, the more i am you.
I mightn't be broken, at least not yet
but the longer it goes on the harder it gets
to not fall to pieces, as dust on the floor
and get blown away by the wind on the moors.

And when i fall down well,
i might just lie broken
my face to the sky
and these words left unspoken
To fade into nothing
like paint on a wall
a graffiti message
just a faded scrawl.