Friday, 12 February 2021

From Now On

 

From Now On

 

 

I’ll pick and choose,

who I love and who I lose.

And some of my choices,

might surprise even me.

Nobody will be fireproof

from gentle bloodless coup

of spirit: it might be her,

if so, then ask yourself,

should it be even you?

This old heart grows jaded,

weary, set upon the rack

might fold its empty hand,

if it suffers further attack,

soft broken back beats

fade out and faded.

If you are chosen,

be assured of warmth,

occasional provocative smile

dark glints from dark heart.

I’ll gift you love’s words,

you’ll guide my hands,

we few will, back to back,

forever and together stand

against jealous time.

If not, well, no crime

was ever committed,

just get on with the living,

forgiven and forgiving,

the herd is mostly immune,

to any kindness shown:

decisions taken, dues paid,

I’ll turn my unfeeling eye,

on life’s blind passing by.

Nothing left to see here,

from now on, believe me,

and so please move along;

you did nothing wrong.



Tuesday, 9 February 2021

What You Saw I See

 

What You Saw I See

 

 

What you see, I saw:

a devil would come knocking

at a cupboard door.

Demanding more in rent,

than ever could be spent,

in this lifetime – or the next.

 

Oh, it knocks them off their feet,

thrown out onto Winter street

with a long list of final demands,

imperatives,

conditionals,

commands,

every thumping heartbeat drumming;

surges in crashed panic; attacks and cheats

by mugging everything dear,

just as all was becoming clear;

crushed all gentle winds busy sweeping fog,

snapped limb from limb by jealous dogs.

So here comes the chopper

to chop off their heads,

snuff out the candle that lights them to bed.

 

Well, imagine; dream if you will,

Libra’s scales, balanced high in heaven,

great chains holding giant pans beneath

weighing strong cheer against clouded grief.

Can you see it? True, my lover,

I guess a plank would do as well,

where one is up, and the other down,

flotsam drifting dreams from the past,

assembled in the mind, glued together

by simple acts of being kind, push gently,

swing one off the other, sharing tunes

aching with nostalgic melody, croon

together, back and forth, with spooned lips,

guard both carefully against careless slips,

where one dips, the other rises,

offers love, and look, a life of surprises.

Two Angels, in approximate symmetry,

suspended in psyche’s honeyed amber,

dark on white on dark,

forming perfect sonnets from couplets rhymed,

just a few stolen moments, all could be well,

just a little way above their heads,

observing both the maw of hell.

 

Furies now attack in many agonied shapes,

grunting guttural, howling wounded blame,

oh, it splits strong plank in twain,

chopping,

slashing,

sawing,

shredding driftwood with buzzsaw dust-teeth,

daemon axe felling, spitting feral and ferocious,

horrid hurling knives flung from ultimatum eyes,

it’s churning up the very earth

and burning, burning all before it.

If one must fall, see the other plunge,

down tumble both, twisting wild,

tail-spinning, pitch out of control, lunge

into oncoming - both corkscrew:

it cannot hold, one soulmate will never do

what must be achieved by even two.

 

Still, peace now, the worst is over,

storms pass, move further off,

dull all once pounding blood.

Feel beneath feet safe deadening rug,

puts her thin arms around herself,

folds her surplus wings inwards, weep and hug,

howl bitter, clutches, holds herself hard,

pulls thick blankets back over blank eyes,

think beige grey skies; all tomorrow's sunrise.

 

A path winds forwards, long behind them now;

both might reflect in time that between them here

was committed no crime, warm words shared

will one day embrace thoughts, bring smiles,

and they will snatch at fragment memories

every once in a while. Watch crystalline  

shadows look back from inside mirrors,

grasp for something that forever shimmers.

 

They climbed too high too soon,

and peaking, looked up;

rested, back to back, drank from loving cups,

then saw Libra, somewhere far overhead:

She’s glittering over graves of life’s wasted dead

decaying together both killers and killed,

restless in slumber all dreams unfulfilled.

 

One day we might reach out our hands,

clench love’s firm grasp; beach on dry lands,

dream far off undiscovered countries, be free.

Oh, it is not as it should be,

and what you saw I still see:

in this life you could complete me.