My Heart, A Nest and A Raven

There’s a nest which sits well above my heart.
I’d like to say it was the home of a wren
But it belongs to a raven.
It is clever, heavy, wicked and wise
And it sees you.
My raven collects things,
Tiny metallic objects
Which nestle in the twigs above my heart.
I’d like to say they shimmer and shine,
But they cut
They bruise
Forcing me to grow scar tissue in places
I never thought I would.
My raven tells me things,
Whisperings in its croaking voice
Chants like those from outside of sound.
I’d like to say it is made of music,
But they are maniacal and truthful,
All the things that make me breed
Just a little more madness
Just a little more hate.
There’s a nest above my heart
And it presses like a coldness,
Pushes like a heaving force,
And lands me in a world of trouble.

Still Like Statues

There are holes all through my lungs.
I smoked until my chest caved in and my heart halted still like a black rock.
There are clumps of mistakes in my arteries;
Giant warnings for blood to go no further lest we breach the weir beyond.
I lived until I couldn’t any longer, there wasn’t much left of me.
I was tired.
I was breathing too many times in a minute and my hands were always full.
I’d scream at the sky every time it rose,
Like I was pleading for a better run at the tides.
“Wash me away, take me to the next shore, clean my mind and slough my skin”
I’d cry these things and fall asleep deep within the arms of a busy night
Only to wake with the same mislaid problems

By My Front Door

There’s a carton of wishes
By my front door
Without drawers
Or segments
Or compartments.
After lugging them around
For so long,
From place to place
Through time and storms,
Their colours have are all combined.
Their sheen I once polished
For hours on end
Have scratches and dents.
Some are unrecognisable.
But when I hold them individually
They are still warm
There is a throb
A heart
An ache
Which will never disappear,
So long as they stay
By my front door.

Beautiful People

She speaks
With a wink
Between her
Cotton-candy lips.
Drenched with intent,
Smothered by innuendo.

Waiting by
His rotten cord
He strangles truth
Between his teeth
Extending a hand
To those who wish to fall as well.

Don’t let eager ears fool you
Their tame pigs
And fame whore guests
Grapple with fevers,
And adulterated
Drunken hearts

These are the purists
These are the truth tellers
These are your Gods

Death By Kaleidoscope

We all suffer of our own doing;
Death by kaleidoscope
Chain-of-event love.
Simple mirrors
Flashing images
Of all your faults and graces,
All your greatest and lowest.
Bedazzled eyes
Drink up the sight
Of shiny shapes
We think we haven’t seen.
It’s just a few specks
Of coloured dust
And the end
Of a very long,

Watch the pretty colours swim.
They’ll keep you entertained
For a little while.

Dillam, A Love Letter of the Best kind

When we are together
Its less about the time
And more about the years,
Less about the jokes
And more about the laughter,
Less about our troubles
And more about the care.

With you I never question
With you I never distort
Or manipulate
Or destroy

Life is already destructive
People thrive on manipulation
And love is so very distorted
That I am grateful
Most often
For you.

We have so many relationships
In this life
Who’d have thought
We’d last?

Thanks, for always coming to my party