Glint

Misused, confused,
My trust abused,
Your burning hands
Were not refused.

My life forsook,
Your touch, your look;
My reputation,
Cost enough.

But how you lied,
I'm cast aside,
My dreams, destroyed,
To feed your pride.

And now that
 By your hands to die,
I see it now,
The reason why.
That devil quick,
to spite, to fly,
The glint, that evil,
In your eye.

Cornflakes are crispy,
Yoghurt is not,
Bread is quite chewy,
And chilli's are hot.
Which one's my favourite,
Which one's the best?
I don't know the answer,
What is this,
A test??

The Blinkered Man

She saw his hunger,
And fed him,
A morsel at a time.
Tiny crumbs from her table;
So small,
She hardly even noticed them.

Not him.

To him,

Ambrosia would have tasted sour by comparison.

A lapdog to his own ideals,
Her presence almost incidental,
To the fantasy in his mind.

So willingly he paid the price,
His torment meant as little to her
As mewling puppies.

Oh blinkered man!
Her cunning wrapped you in perfumed deceit,
And robbed you blind.

Too late, he saw,
Too late,
Where duplicity dripped;
What cruel manners she employed,
To put him from his friends,
His funds, his life.

So blinded by his pointless tears
He didn't see the signs,
Or feel which way the wind blew.

But in willingly delivering to her,
His heart;
He sealed his fate.

In fact,
So complicit was he,
In his own demise,
He hardly felt
The dying tremors
When she left him.

The Argument

It wasn't a reasonable way to go,
But words will be spoken,
And who's to know,
Which way
This ragged wind will blow.
For words,
Once spoken,
Can't retract,
And wounded hearts
Will just react,
To save the moment,
Quick and fast,
But really,
There is no way back,
From this...
Whatever broken minds might wish.

The Cost of a Quiet Life

A lifetime of quiet resentments,
Paved the way,
To red mist driven,
Steely sharp,
Slashing, slashing madness.

If only she had told someone.
If only she had let it out.
If only he had let her breathe,
Let her believe;
Believed in her,
Just a tiny, tiny bit.

But his overbearing arrogance
Made him a wife full of tiny holes,
Filled full of ire,
A raging soul,
At war with herself,
Behind her perfect, placid smile.

She waits for them now,
To come and take her away,
Quiet and covered in red.

The woman that never compained,
Never murmered,
All in persuit of a quiet life,
That in the end,
Killed him dead,
And took away everything that she had.

Egbert Wipe

Egbert Wipe he stole a bike
Whilst dressed up like a nun,
This all night party monster
Was stuffed full of stealing fun.

He'd had a drink, or two or three,
In fact; that's just a lie,
He'd had much nearer twenty
And now rode in search of pies.

Oh! Pies with shortcrust pastry
And with tasty fillings too,
A pie and then another pie,
And then a massive brew.

He wobbled to the market
Where he found the bakers stand,
But was hampered by his wimple
As he ran off, pies in hand.

Then his balance just deserted him,
And on his face he fell,
Pies abandoned on the tarmac.
But there's one thing more to tell.

Poor old Egbert was arrested
For his theft of tasty pies,
And the caption in the paper
Made much fun of his disguise.

So the moral of this story
Is 'don't drink before you ride',
And if you're wearing fancy dress
Then stay away from pies!

The Unicorn

It stood,
A monument to chastity and honour,
A memory of a hope entombed with stone.
Grey and old,
Defaced by birds and man and time it stood.
A throwback to a different time,
Around which school children ate their lunches,
Drunks belched away their afternoons,
And no one ever looked to see,
Just what it was that shaded them.
Days came and went;
Then months,
Then years;
And still no one looked,
No one wept,
To see the humbling of their unicorn.
Just a place to steal a kiss,
Or maybe more;
On a dark summers night.
Always and forever.
Forgiving,
Almost forgotten but never forgetting.
Dance my unicorn,
Dance yourself to another universe,
On concrete hooves.

Just Sometimes

Just sometimes,
I wish I were something other than I am.
I wish,
That just sometimes,
I were, a great big, hulking man.
I wish,
That just sometimes,
I could show the world my strength.
Instead of keeping quiet,
Like a good girl.


Like a good girl.


Just sometimes
I wish I could....

What's my name?

She spied him across the crowded bar,
And speared him with a shrill peroxide wail.
'Tonyyy!! Daarrrrling!! It's been ages, why didn't you call!?'

'I did,' he lied, 'But you were never in.'

She nodded wisely.
'Well I'm a busy girl you know!'
And waggled hips that knew the move.

He swallowed.
She advanced, shark eyed, lips poised.

Elbow in the ribs.
'Chris, mate, drink up, we're leaving'
A shrug, a smile, an escape.
She pouted as he passed, talons raised to grasp.

Outside he breathed again.
Drink can make you do terrible things.

And they never remembered your name.

Reflections

What does the mirror show you,

Is it close to what I see?

Apparently not, 

Based on your smile,

The truth is clearly

Not set free.

Because mirrors can only detail your skin,

They can't reveal what lies within,

And really,

Who knows!

This could be a good thing.

As long as you have to be you, 

I mean;

Perhaps some things should remain unseen.

Thick Skin

Ingratiate, ingratiate,

‘Cause when you’re in, you’re in.

Don’t listen for the truth of it

‘Cause truth just don’t begin,

To tell it like it really is;

And who the hell are you?

To push apart those in the art,

Whose place you so aspire to.

Ingratiate, and irritate, 

Just who the hell are you??

It's a good night for a Ghost Walk

It’s a ghost walk, not a cake walk,

There’s no money back here

If a dead mans right hand

Slapped you hard on your rear!

He’s invisible night

You can’t see him at all,

   Watch your feet on those steps, 

Else you stumble and fall.

Then whose cold hands will grip you?

Hold you hard, 

just that way,

Not a mere mortal man,

Not a human man, nay.

But a man with no heart,

With no life of his own.

Cursed, abandoned and dead

Buried long ‘neath these stones.

I can’t tell you his story, 

I don’t know who he is

But a ghost walk’s a ghost walk;

And this ghost walk’s his.

My love in a nutshell

They sang us
A rainbow of joy;

Each note as
Pure as a pearl.

Happiness surrounded us,
And
My whole world shone.

And then....

You were gone,
Leaving me with,
Nothing.

Only a single tear,

Flooding my desert
With
Infinite sorrow.

Revelation

Are you drowning darling?

Are you drowning,

Dreaming about your

Dreadfully 

Dreary days?

Death by virtue.

Uber happiness, 

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Are you saved?

Are you rightous?

Have the awkward questions all disappeared?

Don't you believe it.

Don't call it a memory darling,

Call it anything you like

But remember,

It's not a memory.

Don't call me.

I'm something else altogether.

My Guitar

'You have no guts' I say.
You laugh.
'I have more guts than you' you say,
And let the strumming of my fingers call a tune.
'You would say that' I say,
'You, who need another to express yourself.'
'Don't lay me with your problems' you shout,
'Little feet dance to little tunes.'
'Ha!' I say,
'But I am playing you!'
'That's what you think human' you sneer,
'Now say that in a twelve bar!'

Glint

Misused, confused,
My trust abused,
Your burning hands
Were not refused

My life forsook,
Your touch, your look
My reputation
Cost enough.

But how you lied
I'm cast aside
My dreams, destroyed
I see your pride

That devil quick
to spite, to fly;
The glint, that evil,
In your eye.

Nemo Malus Felix

They said Nemo Malus Felix, 
And I swear to God it's true.
Especially when I think of
All those things
You made me do.


I can't sleep for more than an hour,
Before the nightmares start.
Before every wicked thing
I've done
Is nailed into my heart.


If only I'd told you I wouldn't,
But my lust had sealed my fate.
I was desperate to feel you inside me.
Strange 
That now I only hate.


I know that I shouldn't have killed her
You were evil to tease me that night
And to laugh as her blood flowed around me
You're a devil,
In that she was right.


I know peace does not visit the guilty mind
Every day is a dantean curse
But to know you still live in the world with me, 
That my love, 
That my love,
Would be worse.

What if...

If pixie dust was outlawed
And the mushroom circles tolled,
If sprites and elves were banished
And the fairies gardens sold.

If unicorns were bridled
And the hidden doorways barred,
If men like you could have your way
What else would you discard?

If banshees all were silenced
And the vampires laid on ice,
If werewolves claws were clipped down
Would you really pay the price?

If all the magics of our land,
Could truly be confined,
If all the mysteries were lost
I'll tell all you'll find,

An empty place inside yourself
With nothing left to give,
So just you think on something else,
And let the wild things live.

Brought To Book

This poem is based on the true story of George Cudmore, an ambitious idiot.

He had a wife and loved her,

Maybe for a year or so,

Until Sarah came a calling,

And poor Grace, she had to go.

Now it's a risky business murder,

Not as easy as you think,

But for Sarah's touch he'll risk it,

For her skin that's soft and pink.

Why she wants him he can't fathom,

Not a handsome man is he,

But she loves him with her body,

So by God he will be free!

Oh rat catcher George,

He knows the score,

With poisons he's the best,

But getting Grace to swallow some,

Will surely be a test.

So he dribbled arsenic in her tea,

It only made her ill,

When she cried in pain,

To his damn shame,

He fed her poisoned pills.

With a burning throat and a raging thirst,

His dying wife fought on,

'til with growing fear and panic

George did call on Sarah Dunn.

Came she shakily to her lovers aid,

Hiding deep her shame and guilt,

To administer more poison,

Hid in roasted fruit and milk.

Grace succumbed at last, but it was clear,

Who had done this dreadful thing,

And soon the pair were locked up tight,

George a-feared they both would swing.

What a yellow toad,

What an evil snake,

Sarah's guilt he did proclaim,

Saying she alone did the curse'd deeds,

He was innocent of blame.

But the truth did out and the judge decreed,

She should live, and he would die,

And 'for a thousand cheering people

Bad old George was hung on high.

But now twists the tale in an eerie way,

After many years passed by,

Bits of George's skin,

Tanned and tidied up,

Caught a keen librarian's eye.

How this came to pass,

We might never know,

But I'd recommend a look;

At the killer who was caught and bound,

And was truly brought to book.

Betrayal

Vermilion,
She smiling said,
Is not the colour I most dread.

And staring down into my eyes,
She smiled a killers smile.

'Far worse than that
Is ruby red,
That shade I really do despise.'

Oh how I wept,
My life betrayed,
As sunlight sparkled off her blade.

And staring up into her eyes,
I knew my time was done.

Betrayed, in red,
And leaking death,
I paid in full for all my lies.