Were we Worthy?

The sea turns to royal red

Under a high cliff covered with green,

The fire of the divine torches the sky

And time stops to breathe.

 

Those with compassion cried

As they joined the thieves in their game.

And kings will kneel with their subjects

When they recognise that we’re all the same.

 

A watcher on the shore stays

To watch the ashen winds circle and fly.

Ember rains pour like open veins

Or like the tears that the innocent cry.

 

Their money can’t halt their end

Caught in a tempest that will never rest

We joined hands like we thought we should

And gave in to the final test.

A Body in Eden

In paradise lay a serene and empty form

With eyes closed and clothes left torn,

That sweet birds sang to through the day

For in Eden did his body stay.

 

A myriad of flowers grew in his open hand

And autumn leaves like fallen dryads land

Upon this body now cold and alone

For in Eden he died unknown.

 

Nothing of heart or feeling remains

Under the first born sun or the eternal rain.

This child was born only to die

For in Eden did his body lie.

Salem’s Fools

We are Salem’s fools

Fearful and hollow,

We are cruel

And born to follow.

 

Our eyes are bright

With firelight,

And our devils die screaming.

 

Our village unbound and

Our vision blind,

Our victims are found

To be our kind.

 

It is too late, for their blood

Stains our hands

And we cry to ourselves at night.

 

Yet we are still sure we are right.

A Ramble

I left behind the smoking wreckage,

Walked away from that old fire.

Oh I caught my whale alright

That was a product of my sight,

I can fake the chills in the night

Though I have never been there.

I can feel the sand on a shore

That I have never been too,

And conjure up a false emotion

Strong like a blue star.

I had a hit, or two, and sadness comes

When you realise you are not the only one.

That is not the case, however you may believe,

We are all whippets on the track

Chasing the political game

Wrapped in torchlight, melted candles

Restaurants with smiles and fake smiles,

A shiny car, belief in your fingers,

Simple breezes in thinning hair.

I am not one of their associates

I am not a corporation

But I am not an outsider like Odysseus,

I am not an open and tumultuous wave,

I will never be a Spaniard resting at midday.

Yet I can come close

In a summation approximately 12 lines long,

A parable, God I need a parable,

A world captured, it is Gabriel.

Churchyard in Padstow

I left behind idle time

Once I entered the churchyard in Padstow

Silent and alone.

No names written on the weathered graves,

No choir in the church

Yet songs ran free from budding trees,

Songbirds in their morbid sanctuary.

One gate leads to the path towards the sea,

The other into woodland

Nightly shaded even in the day.

This is peace in harmonious decay.

The Sea

Sunlight does not reach these Caverns

Open like the mouths of stagnant hell.

They grow darker as you drift on down

Slowly in the balance of gentle death.

 

Like a feather in a ray of moonlight

You no longer cling to a beating heart.

Instead, between the black and the waves,

You drift before the stars fade away.

 

Your hands reach for the silver moon

Rays reaching out to you like pale arms.

But it is too weak to hold on to you

And they retreat into the oncoming dawn.

 

So, silently, you fall into the open dark

Still and cold but free to hope,

You will be lifted by loving hands to the sky,

The stars grow closer as you finally die.

The Pope

Aye two bonny men in the humble sun

Sat, sunken suits crumpled with remnants of rum.

Called out the pope on all good deeds

And swore to expose his evil seed.

Then the copper cracking youthful skulls

Cursed the yelping squawking gulls,

Then came across the bonny men lying in the street

An’ tried to drag them to their drunken feet.

“What’s this about the pope?” he asks with Italian infliction

A flame of the inferno in his post-Dante diction

A curse in the cadence and spite in the tone.

They said “We are travellers so far from home,

We bathed in the ether offered by your drink

And by midnight we started to think:

The strangest theories we’d never known

About the goings on over the skies of Rome!”

The Copper was befuddled, confused, an’ red

Strange conspiracies began to fill his head,

“You drunken men blaspheme against the Pope?”

They said “No” but then again “we hope,

For what we hear is unspeakable and wild

About what the pope would do to a child.”

The copper drew back, spewed bile and fell

But what they believed they forgot to tell,

“Silly fucker feinted before he knew our cause,

We are here to prove the Pope is Santa Clause!”

Passing

We called our conquest just

In the name of a blue eyed child

And the summer flower by the river,

But when we crossed the border

We found nothing but autumn there.

 

Trees turned to stone graves in beds of ash

And birds to grotesques on their perch,

The lilacs and the roses that I promised

Fell like snow into your hand

And I blessed everything that we still had.

 

Between us our hearts still bloomed

And bled colour into this sacred tomb

Like a running river or an open wound

We held hands through the ivy and doom

I’m telling you, we will be whole again soon.

 

Now our Eden is our victory once more

And we took it, holding on with the promises

That you left me when you went before,

I held your pale hand as you drifted in to sleep

I hope you’ll be holding mine when again we meet.