Hoisted onto a moon ladder,
dizzying height could not phase her.
Inside reverie’s ring
she soars into the midnight air.
Wild smile and soft skin laid bare,
each star sparkles screaming.
Uninhibited so high up,
she’s now prepared for a closeup.
Flying from rung to rung
filled with clear infatuation.
Twenty four carat addiction,
too bright the glister hung.
Scenery transforms lightning fast,
the view’s here then a shadow’s cast.
Ride swiftly reckless soul,
feed insatiable fantasies.
Let go of cruel formalities,
a scandalous black hole.
Massaging me with body oil,
I am now your woman to spoil.
My hair’s become ringlets.
With an arch in the jacuzzi,
I lay back let you taste me.
String pearls and cigarettes.
There is an absence of my voice,
save an inarticulate noise.
The sound of a branding.
Your adept hands apply pressure,
hit that line of pain and pleasure.
My heart’s understanding.
Where do you end and I begin?
My safe word is ‘Separation’.
Manicured nails cut glass.
Mirrors left completely shattered,
lips left soiled and tattered.
Pure lux in sassafras.
Part III
And there I learned the silent truth:
The song I broke was whole.
It binds all stars, all stones, all souls;
A thread that makes us full.
To harm but one, is harm to all—
A lesson seared in pain.
Now I must mend these broken chords
And weave the song again.
---
Part IV
So now I roam, from star to star,
My story told with care:
Of pride, of loss, of one sharp choice,
And songs too bright to bear.
The melody of life endures,
A thread through cosmic whole.
It binds each being, stone, and star;
A chorus of the soul.
To break one note is break them all—
This truth I dearly earned.
And so I wander, seeking peace:
For harmony, returned.
---
Conclusion
The traveler’s voice falls soft and low,
A whisper through the night:
“To mend the song, to heal the threads,
Is to restore the light.”
Vampires relish the winter sky,
they feed on every mournful cry;
The holiday lonely;
Wanting to be caressed in bed,
or make love on an antique sled;
Snowflakes and peony;
You can’t go buy the gift they seek,
to bite and taste another freak;
Carnivorous copper;
Lips that pull all your insides out,
and feast on every fevered shout;
Such thieves are improper;
Beneath his gaze she will give in
lured by such toxic temptation;
Conundrum I admit;
Beware of a festive mirage
that baits you with it’s entourage;
A strong dopamine hit.
I blow bubbles
without a care
upon the morning air
see as I play
it takes my breath away
look look
traces of me
up up
into the sky
now
on high
forever fly
PARODY
pithy never uncouth with a short bitter truth
perhaps ironic & or a little sardonic
a satire of which many never will tire
'
Exhume my gone exuberance,
I’ve always been drawn to a chance;
Such enticing grandeur;
Resurrect me from hollowed ground,
I long to indulge lush newfound;
Run with me, wildflower;
Missing all the juice of layers,
I’m dry devoid of purveyors;
Poundcake of foundation;
Through dynamism opened up,
faint flush from natural makeup;
A welcome distinction;
Revive me but do it slowly,
I’m stained glass you are the church key;
So sensitive to sensuous,
it’s been buried deep for so long;
Your hymnal could wake my soul’s song,
lead me to exodus;
Set free my dormant element,
overwhelm me and leave me spent;
Look at me, make the call;
To others we may seem baroque,
with all that passion will evoke;
Love is real after all.
Sucker for ill fated romance,
I’m dancing an ultra slow dance
on Heartache Boulevard;
I’ve got so much love to bestow
if you’re not mine I’ve got to go;
Or I’ll be permanently scarred;
I saw stars when given your kiss,
fearless and blinded by such bliss
fell down and lost myself;
Thought you wanted a warrior
would appreciate and spoil her;
Treat her like she’s top shelf;
I’m a peculiar type of fine,
fire and ice will often combine;
Lightning on a cupcake;
Took this game and I tore it down
now my king will not let me frown;
No more road to heartache.
To taste the word illustrious,
you must take your gifts serious;
Write until your soul bleeds;
Break your most inflexible shell,
allow the Muse to shake and swell;
Who knows where it all leads?
Whether to a book or a mic
to your poetry add a spike;
Truth’s what they’ll respond to;
Seeking every solo spotlight,
be authentic and you just might
gain it all right on queue;
Keep all of your ideas close,
only complete do you disclose;
They’ll only see magick;
That is how it’s supposed to be;
The move? Footloose and fancy free,
don’t give away your trick;
Getting lost with the curtain’s rise
each audience loves a surprise;
Smile bright like a misfit,
they’ll interpret not understand;
You’ll want to but don’t reprimand,
Let them all adore it.
C
L
E
R
I
H
E
W
just for. you
A cool Autumn morning we caught the bus,off at eleven without much fuss.One
and half return from Croft to Leigh a birthday treat from Dad to me.Hopped on a tram to Burden park to see Stan Mathews make his mark.Through the turnstile into the town end,crushed and crammed like cattle penned.
Mathews, Mortenson versus Nathaniel Lofthouse,a match for connoisseurs to watch. Wembly star Stan playing on at thirty eight still making inch perfect
crosses on a plate. Shimmy,side-step,feint and dazzle,leaving the defenders in a
right frazzle. Our ageing hero displayed all his twinkling skills,the complete pro
without modern-day frills.Most pundits considered Stan an aged has-been but no better talent had ever been seen.
AS ONE a love story
Each whispered word,
the lovers heard;
Each lingered look,
thrills on tenterhook;
Each tingling touch,
as fingers clutch;
then caress and cleave-
Feelings heighten and perceive
a senuous smile,
on lips,tactile;
Twinned thoughts unlaced,
held in passion's embrace.
an artist poet's expression
of an impression
dead
a silent impression
enlivened
to
an experiential one off happening
when viewed or read
better yet
if as a poem recited
& thus heightened &brought near
in a unique mood moment
reacting
'twixt voice & ear
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he
For nothing would he do
but scribble poetry:
he took up his pen
again&again
with never a doubt
inside his head
ideas did shout
Why was this so
No-one did know
For like Topsy
they just seemed to grow!
o youth,where did you go
those yesterdays,still glow
pure white,as virgin snow-
whose face is this I see,
is this really me;
where,where did youth flee-
inside,still seems bran new
my youthful outlook,stays
albeit,passing days-
a future lies ahead
beyond the grave,He said
the narrow path,to tread
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