The words…

Wind in my face.
Dog at my heal.

Winning the race.
With infinite zeal.

No matter the cost.
Whatever the weather.

The future not lost.
We will be together.

Through darkness and light.
We’ll succeed in the fight.

To make something our own.
And our presence known.

Nothing is broken.
We’ve just awoken.

To a new dawn.
A bright horizon.

Upwards and onwards.
Forever rising.

Dancing across the water.
Prepared for slaughter.

Spreading the beliefs
of a new world order.

Guns, galleons and gore.
Armoured with ardour.

The dogs of war.
Trained to abhor.

Enemies of their masters.
Noblemen and pastors.

Terror unleashed.
Once landed on the beach.

A thirst for gold.
From days of old.

Ruthless in the taking.
Consequences earth shaking.

Riches horded.
Wealth recorded.

A land and people subjugated.
Desire never sated.

Just a bad dream.
Heard you scream.
Fear in the bloodstream.
Coursing like morphine.

Felt you kick and curse.
Spouting free verse.
Fighting something perverse.
From a heroic universe.

Tossed and turned.
Fresh sheets churned.
Terror returned.
A misery unearned.

Body jerked and shook.
Limbs bent and crooked.
Like a jagged fish hook.
From a horror picture book.

Then sudden quiet and calm.
Didn’t raise the alarm.
No longlasting harm.
The peace like a balm.

Just dabble.
Escape the rabble.
Avoid the psychobabble.

Try it once.
No resistance.
Esconse.

A response.
With nonchalance.
No impuissance.

Do it again.
Strain your brain.
Never the twain.

Find a niche.
Like the nouveau riche.
Capiche?

Lockdown hit.
Time to make it.
Totally legit.
Fulfil the remit.
Take the tool kit.
Run with it.
Ready to commit.
Refuse to submit.
Prepare to outwit.
Take off into orbit.
Hear the bass hit.
A community tight-nit.
A message to transmit.
A future sunlit.
The night split.
A destiny to befit.
Changed from a hermit.
With winning grit.
No longer a misfit.
Enough with the bullshit.

Let’s take a walk down memory lane.
Pretend that it is still the same.

Remember when we picked the vines.
Thought we had so much more time.

We crossed the divide.
But could not decide.

Which route was the best to take.
So much at stake.

Now the history books.
All full of crooks.

Can guide us on the path ahead.
But be careful where you tread.

As one misplaced boot.
On this timely pursuit.

Could result in a fall.
That defeats us all.

So gather up the fruit.
Do not dispute.

That every lesson learned.
Is a mystery earned.

What is the price
of paradise?

Think twice.
Be precise.

Love is against the law.
A fatal flaw.

Feelings will thaw.
A growing gnaw.

That will eat your soul.
Take its toll.

What is the cost
of people lost?

Double crossed.
Tossed out the door.

In a boat
with no oars.

Washed up.
On the shore.

Of a paradise
of yore.

Give it a go.
They said.

Break the bread.
Drink the wine.

Feel the divine.
Be comforted.

Just believe.
In the story.

Humanity’s glory.
What we achieved.

Seen and unseen.
The veiled Augustine.

Yet nothing.
Could I feel.

The zeal.
Unreal.

False faith.
False scope.

No way to cope.
With the forlorn hope.

Men wrestled escaped bees on a roadside deep in flood waters.
A flattened cornfield marked by the shape and force of the torrent.

A mud-soiled child on a stoop.
Wide plains transformed into lakes.
The eerie chime of a train signal stuck on a loop.
The financial loss of a corn yield.
The interviews with the afflicted on the edge of a field.
The interminable and sour stench of silt and sewage.
Children’s toys and clothing heaped in brown puddles.
Humble and cherished items.
Stacked in ruins, muddled.
The ceaseless clack of helicopters.
Flying low through ashen skies.
The return of a painful memory.
The forgotten lies.
The sight of broken walls,
sagging houses,
a wrecked car.
Submerged in mud and char.

People converged on the council grounds.
Seeking information.
Supplies and donations.
Conversation.
Hopes of an online connection.
A future that has arrived in all its chaos.
Lack of water.
Intermittent power.
No communications.
Dwindling, limited or restricted
reserves of fuel and food.
Uninhabitable homes.
Sudden unemployment.
Destroyed infrastructure and road networks not renewed.
The notion of the social contract is removed.
How thin are those strands.
That bind us together.
When the grocery store shelves are bare.
No banking technology means
those with no cash will go without.
But for the goodwill of others, no doubt.
Broke but still breathing.

That requisite moral and ethical choices are required is patent.
Find ourselves surprised, alarmed, by our own thoughts, latent.
We may dwell on what could have been,
what is
and what is yet to come.

Followed the shining path.
In solemn silence.

Without thoughts, ideals or violence.
Down to the jungle camp.

Dark, squalid and damp.
Oblivion forgotten.

Lives lost in the aftermath.
Memories rotten.

The journey just begun.
Towards the promised golden sun.

Set down on tablets of stone.
A story we could own.

With the missionary zeal
of a conscious deceiver.

We followed the words
that made us feel.

The sweet holy sweat fever
of a true believer.

Sat by the fire
he worked up his ire.

Into a storm of lies
that signalled our demise.

No choice but to follow.
Broken hearted and hollow.

The shining path.
A righteous blood bath.

Feel the wrath of the fake.
How much will you stake?

The well trodden path.
Not always the best to take.

Took the circuitous route.
Around the treacherous lake.

Sat under the band stand.
As if it was planned.

Played a dead man’s hand.
To win a Wasteland.

When only the insane are the sane.
There is nothing left to feign.

Roll the weighted dice.
Try once again.

Someday we’ll tell each other everything.
Once we’ve seen behind the shadows.

Let go of the secrets
No one knows.

Going to burn it all.
The woods.
The bridges.
My past.
Prejudices.

Watch it all.
Go up in flames.
The shame.
Take the blame.
Claim the fame.

Feel the heat.
From the box seat.
An intense treat.
The charred balance sheet.
Make the conceit complete.

See the embers glow.
As pride overflows.
Justice follows.

Then start anew.
Build it up.
To burn it down.
Turn the screw.

The rain came.
Washed me clean.

Until everything sparkled.
A golden sheen.

What was feared
no longer revered.

The dust of everyday life
had now disappeared.

Stood strong, straight and true.
Like a warrior Sioux.

Felt the power of new.
The earth did construe.

New meanings to me.
So that I could see.

A fresh decree.
That let me be.

Without a cloud in the sky.
So I could ask why.

I had been left
high, mighty and dry.

Calm waters behind me.
Fast rapids up ahead.

Filled my heart
with a sense of dread.

Headed for the Quay
next to an old Oak tree.

Its trunk swept clean
by the current serene.

Pulled my boat
upon the stony shore.

Believed it would carry me.
Forever more.

Stood by as the river flowed.
Looking for something to decode.

Built a fire to warm the soul.
A light upon the shallow shoals.

Stretched out on the cold hard ground.
Listened to the murmuring sound.

Of moving water in the dark.
Loud enough to leave a mark.

That could be heard throughout my dreams.
As I rode the lonely streams.

Walking the tightrope.
Above and between.
Frosty slopes.

No chance for mistakes.
As the rope does shake
concentration breaks.

Two points of connection.
Multiple areas of flexion.
Fighting gravity’s rejection.

No time to trip
slip, flip or blip.
Must keep a firm grip.

Of one’s self and one’s senses.
Or face the consequences.
As the body tenses.

Forcing a deathly careen.
Down in the ravine.
Unseen in-between.

Travelled far and wide
but never saw such grace
as the look on her face.

The day she tried
but could not hide.
How much she had cried.

The tears stopped long before
I had opened the door.
To find her on the floor.

Could face no more.
It was her I would adore.
As I watched her soar.

To hitherto unimagined heights.
A thousand starry nights
As we took in the sights.

And sounds
While the red light glowed in the darkness
of the castle grounds.

My heart pounds.
Her face.
The grace.

The calm before the storm.
An edified platform.
That would reform.

Her future and mine.

Out here no one can hear you scream.
Laugh, sing or cry.

However much you try.
It will shatter your dream.

As the dark closes in
and destroys the din.

Of the days whims.

Try as you might.
You will put up a worthless fight.

To save your plight.
To keep it right.

The night will bite.

To spite you.
You won’t make it through.

Out here no one will come to your aid.
Your dreams will fade.

Like the evening light.

Searching for sanctuary
in all the wrong places.

You remember the faces
of those who promised so much.

But delivered so little.
Left you broken and brittle.

An empty vessel to be filled up.
Like sacred wine in a cup.

Drunk down.
Like the bad boys in town.

Took you for a chancer.
As you could not find the answer.

To the questions in your head.
So for refuge you fled.

Down to the Church yard.
Amongst the big stones.

In the dark heard the groans.
Of the great door on its hinges.

Felt the twinges of pain.
Foresaken again.

Watched the ice melt
on the frozen path.

Felt the wrath of the Holy ones.
Sisters and sons.

No comfort there.
No place to hide.

They had lied as you cried.
Just searching for a guide.

Who could take your cold hand.
And walk by your side.

Careful now.
What you wish for.

As one day it may come true.
Then what will you do?

Once you’ve chased the demons away.
There will be nothing to hold on to.

Like a sailor tied to the mast
facing the oncoming storm.

Once it has passed.
Reborn.

Will you morn your lost soul
and hold fast?

To the questions posted
from the past.

If you know the road
Then why not travel it?

Take that heavy load.
Unravel it.

Devotion to emotion
won’t see you through.

Just leave you lost
in an ocean of you.

Just imagine it was all a lie.
You would no longer have to try.

Just imagine none of it was true.
Everything you could see through.

Just imagine the chord was cut.
You wouldn’t feel it in the gut.

Just imagine you fell from a great height.
Would no longer have to fight.

Just imagine if you sold it all.
You would no longer be in thrall.

Just imagine if you’d overcome.
Everything you’d never done.

Just imagine the possibilities.
An end to all hostilities.

Just imagine all the fakes uncloaked.
An end to tyranny unprovoked.

Just imagine all the words unsaid.
No longer ruled by a sense of dread.

Just imagine all the pain you felt.
Gone now as your heart did melt.

Just imagine me.
Imagine you.
Just imagine all the things to do.

Just imagine how the world could be.
If everyone was truly free.

As the crow flies
black against the snow white sky.

Living life ready to die.
Steady, strong and sly.

Took a drink from the fountain,
swung high for the mountain.

Through the air so sleek.
Reached the frosted peak.

Found a perch,
a tall silver birch.

High up in the Catskills.
Took stock of the surrounding hills.

On the look out for fresh kills.
Amongst the abandoned saw mills.

Took flight before the dark of night.
Roosting options so finite.

With the break of first light
soared to a cruising height.

Hung in the air like a kite.
Pensive ready for a fight.

To the death.
Held its breath.

As it spied that mornings prey.
The best start to a cold new day.

Dived down with fantastic speed.
Towards the brush and weed.

Whole being keyed from a creed.
A desperation to feed.

The only thing it would heed
in order to breed.

Was what nature had agreed
it would need.

Will I dream of you
when I close my eyes?

Or will I dream
of velvet skies?

Of a peaceful sunrise.
The morning surprise.

Will you dream of me
when you hit the hay?

Or will you dream
of a bright new day?

Will we dream of each other
as lovers?

Underneath the covers
of darkness.
As we contemplate the starkness.

Of this life together.
Restless, desperate, hopeless and sad.

Will we dream away the lives
of what we should have had?

Or live a lifes dream
mad, happy and glad?

The man with the guitar
walked on like a star.

Alone.
Centre stage.
Turned the page in his songbook
and shone.

Under the spotlight.
He took flight.
Sparkled bright
through the night.

Had the crowd in his hand.
Squeezed it tight.
Needed no band.
To reach the heights.

The inspiration had led him to.
Sang the songs.
That soared through him
so strong.

Through divine intervention
he conveyed his intention.
Circumvention
of mind, body and soul.

The performance was whole.
Took the applause
like a stroll
on a quiet summers day.

Left the scene
to kneal and pray.
To thank his maker,
prove he was no faker.

Took his pay and his bags.
Now dressed in simple rags
of golden threads.
Left the audience torn to shreds.

Moved on to the next location.
To give birth to a new creation.
A one man music innovation.

Sing to me in the dark.
Let me hear your inner spark.
Of life.

What better place than here?
What better time than now?

Lets go down to the river.
I will warm you
from the shivers.

That plague us on nights like these.
Do nothing but tease
the elemental forces.

The water courses
up ahead
will help to heal the dread.

Sing to me.
Sing to me.

Songs of joy and pain.
We can feel through the rain.
That soaks us to the skin
as we dive right in.

Sing to me.
On land or water.
Songs of love,
Songs of slaughter.

As we settle down
amongst the reeds.
You can sing to me
of all your deeds.

She was the talk of the town.
Tall, skinny and brown.
Refused to frown
when they beat her down.

Stood loud and proud.
Like a magnificent storm cloud.

What they hated
was that she’d migrated.
Been separated
like their antiquated views.

No matter her history
they saw her as a mystery.
To be feared and jeered,
they perceived her as weird.

Because she was not like them.
They couldn’t see.
The mayhem.
She had been forced to flee.

Over the sea.
In a small dinghy.
With no future in sight.
Braved the cold dark night.

To find no welcome.
Just a scrum of
vile bile.
From the land she had thought
was the septered Isle.

People don’t listen anymore.
They just want to settle the score.

With their eyes on the floor.
You feel you’re a bore.

They really don’t listen.
Too obsessed with the frisson.

Of delight when they hear.
You’ve stopped speaking.

So they can start the self seeking
diatribes.

They subscribe to the notion
of pure self promotion.

No matter what you say.
They display.

No interest in anything
but themselves.

Learned to hear
but not to listen.

Just glisten with fear
as they snear at your words.

Lost in the woods.
Amongst the shoulds and coulds.

Find a way out.
Channel the inner boy scout.

Easier said than done.
When you don’t know where you’ve begun.

Every path looks the same.
Like a repeated place name.

Its a numbers game.
Trying to reclaim the shame.

Only myself to blame.
Wasn’t paying any mind.

To the well defined path.
Now I feel the wrath.

Of my inner turmoil.
Of being lost in the soil.

Of having to toil
amongst the mold and twigs.

Moss and shadows.
No one knows.

I’m here.

They said it couldn’t be done.
That none would succeed
where others had failed.

I proved them wrong.
Divided the throng.
Like Moses
and The Red Sea.

All down to me.
No divine intervention.
To achieve my intention.

With a wave of one hand.
The crowd did stand
and fanned out.
Parted like a river through a wasteland.

No word did I speak.
Just stood tall and sleek.
Surveyed the massed meek and week.
All the messed up freaks.

As I walked amongst them
and stared them all down.
The hem of my coat dragged behind.
It had all been designed.

So they could see and feel my power.
To make them all cower.
Their hopes and dreams
I would devour.

We should be clear about
what this means.

The power of following
our dreams.

Down by the river
with the hot rod runners
and gym bunnies.

Racing to power extremes.
Got to get things done.

Make sure the day is won.
By hook or by crook.

They will succeed
The new breed.

Making time for new plans
so they know where they stand.

In the new equilibrium
that becomes delirium.

Not really their fault
This relentless assault.

Of the senses
that breaks down all defences.

Still the river flows
It cannot oppose.
The new status quo.

The Mayans were right.
Held you down tight.
In the dead of night.
Didn’t put up a fight.

Swallow the liquid down.
Foul, frothy and brown.
Wear the paper gown.
You were given in town.

Climb the steps.
One foot after the next.
Flex the biceps.
Digest the cordyceps.

See the Snake on the stairs.
The mass of people in the squares.
The night lit by flares.
Live the history for your heirs.

At the top the Plumed Serpent awaits.
To take your heart.
To seal your fate.

You feel no pain.
Would do it all again
and be slain.
To bring the rain.

Have to get the poison out.
No need to scream and shout
about it.
Or anything else.

Make the day
Find a way.

Stood under the old oak tree.
Its leaves on the ground
surrounded me.

Its time had come,
so had mine.
No need to be glum
all would be fine.

I built a shrine
to the old beliefs.
Then burnt it down.
Gained light relief.

Its not the end of the story,
of feelings damnatory
but memento mori.

Found a gun
lying in the short grass.
Warmed by the sun.
Bold as brass.

No one around to see
as I held it by the withered oak tree.
Just little old me
and a weird sense of glee.

Ran my hands over the butt and shaft.
Felt rather daft
to be standing right there
marvelling at the craft and graft.

How someone had made
this killing machine.
From new parts clean and keen,
made it cold, hard and mean.

Took it home under arm.
It felt like a charm.
That could do so much harm.
Didn’t raise the alarm.

Well I guess
this is the new normal.
Nothing too formal.
Just a searing bliss.

I don’t sleep.
Because sleep is the cousin of death.
Counting the breaths.
Down in the deep.

The cavalry
come riding over the hill.
For a last cheap thrill.
I send them on their way.

No time to play
their silly games.
Of names and claims.
They can burn in the flames.

Of the fire I have built.
And tend to keep alight.
Forthright in my views.
For I have paid my dues.

Do not think for one single moment
it could be any other way.

Residual tiredness coming up to the surface.
Master the breath,
everything else falls in to place.
What you are searching for you cannot purchase.

Or be given over.
From a higher power.
All hope is contagious,
as we go through the stages.

Travelling this way
on the internal flight.
The impulse is to fight
whatever we come across.

Just mental floss and dross.
To be tossed away.
Like psychic litter.
No need to let it stay.

Be aware of every response.
As you target a renaissance.
In body, soul and mind.
Make a note of what you find.

Moments.
One to the next.
One to the next.
Does not matter the context.

The past is a ghost.
The future a dream.
All we ever have is NOW.

Get your think on.
Like a metaphysical don.

Music is the future.
Music is the weapon of the future.
Sub Bass.
Can transform the human race.

Music is power.
Play it from the highest tower.
Volume up to the maximum.
Until the feeling goes platinum.

Music saves.
As it courses through the airwaves.
On your knees begging for mercy
away from the controversy.

Music creates connection.
Drives a new direction.
Helps us fight to be free.
Regardless of complexion.

Phanton power through the speakers.
Free energy for thrill seekers.
A rhythm shared in time and space.
By everybody in the place.

Mountain energy.
A game of double jeopardy.

The forces of nature
will not be held back.

Time to change tact
or prepare to be ransacked.

By the earth, fire, wind and water
of an unstoppable slaughter.

Elemental forces
not horses for courses.

Damn up the rivers.
Harness the power of the sun.

But nature will not be shunned.

Hide from the tidal wave.
Try to be strong and brave.

It will do no good.
When the wood is on fire.

As the mountain slides away.
And all we can do is pray.

That the next time it wont be us.

One way in.
One way out.

Sights trained on the path below.
The trap was set.

Small movements to follow
from the high plateau.

Aware of the threat.
A developing tableau.

Kept stock still.
Bodies tense with the thrill.

Of defending free will.
Fine tuned to the kill.

Dripping beads of sweat
didn’t change their mindset.

They would be caught.
A furious dragnet.

The first one was spied.
No place to hide.

The first shot rang true.
Through the air it flew.

Found its mark.
Lit the spark.

Now they were screwed.
With no time to choose.

Nowhere to run.
From the sun shielded guns.

Confusion suffused.
Bodies blooded and bruised.

They had seen it fly overhead once.
Never again.

Fireball across the blackened sky.
Almost made them cry.
Brought a tear to the eye.

The way it heralded something new.
A change in point of view.

Where it landed could not yet be seen.
Covered in a bright screen.
Like a burnished sheen.

Where it came from no one could say.
But it was here to stay.
A tangential array.

Sat deep in the hole
Like a vengeful mole.
Fulfilling a role.

Its purpose unclear.
No one went near.
Overcome with fear.

It smoked.
Unprovoked.
Cloaked in a cloying mist.

Could it coexist
and not be dismissed
as some kind of
pantheistic schist?

Only time would tell.
From whence it fell.
Be it heaven or hell.

Waiting for a train.
It started to rain.

Ear to the ground
Heard the sound.

Packed up the lost and found.
Scattered on the dirty mound.

Eastbound to fool around
and relieve the strain.

Hopped up on the bumpers
In the cold fog of night.

Watched out for the jumpers.
That could give us a fright.

As we rolled along
We started up a song.

A story tall and strong
That set right from wrong.

Before mornings light.
We were huddled in tight.

To keep from getting caught
as the old timers had taught.

Keep still.
Keep quiet.
Stay out of sight.

On through the town.
We began the countdown.

The coast up ahead.
Fears to be shed.

The dread in our heads.
Lifted and spread.

As we rolled
beat down.

A catalogue of dreams.
So it seams.

Feel the power of schemes.
The strength in teams.

Disastrous regimes.
Hung from high beams.

Strung the flag.
Top of the highest tower.

The air sour.
Now was the hour.

No time to cower
or be dour.

Climbed the bower,
stole the golden flower.

Gave up sword, standard and shield.
Kneeled.
Forced to yield.

Escape routes sealed.
A Holy truth to wield.

The new future revealed.

As the sunlight fades
we remove our shades.
Cascade
our charades
that define the trades.

Across the everglades
into the stockades.
We dodge the grenades.
Covered in band aids.

Hiding behind the colonnades.
Gripping our switch blades.
Watching the promenades.

I play the ace of spades.
You the red maids

No serenades
No escapades

Just Jack’s of all trades.
Ambuscades behind barracades.
Renegades of the blockades.
The moonlight pervades.

Went down into the forest
to empty my bag of blues.

Shined a light on the bruise
all the hues.
Paid my dues.

Sang the chorus
from head
to shoes.

No one saw.
No one came.
I didn’t have to choose.

Just cruised
past the tranquil views.
My muse.

Walked the loam.
Free to roam.
Took the empty bag home.

Two points of light
piercing through the darkness.

Bright sprites in the night.
Holding their place in the starkness.

Rotated body and head.
Turned and fled.

Scrambled through bushes.
Down into the rushes.

Her tail bushy.
Body sleight.

Both gingerbread.
Her birthright.

No looking back
down the winding track.

She leapt in thrall to a squall.
Over the pounding waterfall.

Framed by the moon.
In nature cocooned.
Immune.

One backwards glance.
Her stance
of permanence.

Then gone.
Ran on.

He stood in a trance.
Enhanced.

Dipped a toe out of the shade.
Sun even more high grade.
It could do damage.
Abraid.

As the world burns
or floods again return.
Sun, Sun, Sun.
Here we come.

Bang the drum
Act dumb
Feel numb.
No fun.

A motorbike peels away on the melting tarmac.
A boy drowns in an old Quarry.
The fires up on the moors are out of control.
Here we come.

Facing life or death
he did nothing.
Stayed.
Delayed.
Chose not to betray.
His senses.

Paced the breath.
Spoke the Shibboleth.

Stood stock still.
Controlled his will
the learnt skill.
Just the lungs to refill.

Until.
The moment had passed.
No longer aghast
at what had amassed.
Steadfast and recast.

Strode on bestowed
up the road.
His mentality glowed.
With a shining load.

Rain washed all traces away.
But not the decay.

The decomposition and detrition,
fractions of radiant energy.

Immense power to condition.
Like a patrician on a Byzantine mission.

Frozen in time.
The water
The wine.

Drenched to the bone.
A death fight for the throne.

The blood
The flood.
The endless cloying mud.

No one could have predicted
or depicted.
The throngs of the afflicted.

Such terrible ferocity of thought.
Fraught and taut.

A catastrophe wrought.
Doctrinal conformity sought.
It would all come to nought.

Through the highs
and the lows.
All the blows.
We made it through.

Had no clue
what do
sometimes.

The glue of us kept us sane.
Though the strains.
The pains.

Dragged through the dirt
like a skirt whipped through mud.

Held on for dear life
all the strife
tried to tear us apart.

But we were smart.
Never let them drag us that far down.

We kept it together
And us.

Sat in the dark wood
wondering if I could
push through the crush of
the dopamine rush.

A vivid context
transpired
as synapses fired.

My heart takes flight.
A sparkle of light.
In the green expanse
of awakened delight.

Diffuse golden hues
transfixed by the views.
Sun rode higher and higher.
Through the brush and the briar.

Life woken up.
No storm in a cup.
The brilliant array
of the start of the day.

The shirt is heavy
a cross to bear.
No man in their right mind
could succeed there.

Pride comes before a fall.
But he stood grand and tall.
In thrall to all he surveyed.
He would not be swayed.

His eye on the prize.
As the red sun did rise.
Fortune favoured his brave
encompassing shock wave.

A relentless adherence
to total coherence
and non interference.
Would aid reappearance.

Of the pride, spirit and fight
of a future so bright.
You would shield your eyes from the view
as he built it anew.

The drip of the cistern.
The tick of the clock.

The gutteral wail of the aircraft engines
as my stomach churns.

The infection takes hold.
Draining the energy to fight on.

A summer chill in the air
as the raindrops fall.

Riding the crest
of the fever dream waves.

I shiver.
Can’t deliver.

What was promised?

How to live.
As simply as possible.
Leave no trace
everything in its place.

She strode to the crest of the ridge.
Saw the imaginary border.
Felt the imposed order.

Nothing could detract
from the plain and simple fact.

Nature respects no boundaries.

Internal monologue on repeat.
Flashes of words, sounds
phrases and conversations
I’ve had and not had.

Dark down beneath the covers
legs twitch, stomach churns.
Hot cold, cold hot.
Over and over and over again.

I’m tired, so tired
of the thoughts and feelings
I don’t recognise when it’s light.
The darkness pulls me into this.

No comfort or control
of mind, body and soul.
I turn over, start anew.
The thoughts continue.

Time goes by so slowly
as the sickness pulls me down.
Dark beneath the covers.
Hot sweats, freezing cold.

Days and days pass like this.
Fever grips me anew.
My mind on fire.
Anxiously mired.

Creepy crawl
life sprawled.
Under the midnight
hue.

Lines and lines and lines.
Trace routes over the cobbles.
Sprinkled with the frost.

Never to be seen again
the lives of others.
Light bright
true blue.

The cold hard sharp edge
over the ledge.
Fell down
Flew.

Into the unkempt grass.
Mingled
Camouflaged.
All new.

Warmed by the morning heat.
Spread those wings and learn to fly.

Sitting at the bus stop in a dressing gown.
Can of lager on the seat.
Slippered feet.
Tasting the real
one swig at a time.

Walking round the lake with a four pack in a carrier bag
chasing the ducks on wobbly legs.
Stopping to chat to the geese.
A two way conversation of squeaks, shrieks and beaks.

Lounging on the bench outside the pharmacy
in a full Gucci track suit.
White paper bag of medicines in hand.
Carefully staying on brand.

Having a posh coffee on the parade
talking to anyone under the parasol shade.
Chain smoking tax free fags.
Drag after drag after drag.

Scouring the aisles for bargain sweets, crisps and fizz.
A plastic potted plant.
The Ultimate Couples Quiz.
Have some fab fun at home with your significant other.

Alone in the woods watching a squirrel eat a nut.
The glare of the midday sun.
The sharp stabbing pain in the gut.
Sweating it out after the morning run to get the paper.

The same old shit
day after day after day after day.
The same old faces.
A losing attempt to keep the voices at bay.

The air was thin and cruel.
Had broken no golden rules
for their chance to shine.

Waged war with elemental forces.
Refused to alter their courses.

Jagged peaks as far as the eye could see.
It was where they had striven to be.

No time to rest.
They had not passed the test.
The summit only half the quest.

The lines had been fixed.
The oxygen mixed.
To ensure they survived.

Now was the time to descend.
Making the mountain their friend.
Energy they could now expend.

From a truly prodigious height
down into a conscious fight
to beat the light.

Through the cloud shroud
they would not be bowed.
By fear not spoken aloud.

Hands on the rope
hearts filled with hope.
Down the treacherous slope
they coped.

Back into camp they tramped.
Guided by the lamps
and the soaring delight of
achievement so bright.

Two halves.
A gap in the middle
levered up when the big ships come.

Rails of iron
painted end to end
year on year
started again.

Two strangers
met in the middle.
No words transfered.
Just a look to say
we can go our separate ways.

The weights that tied them down.
The winds that blew them around.
The waves that roared below.
The currents that pulled them away.
Amongst the power of slow decay.
They stayed.

Steadfast amongst the mists.
They held hands.
Fingers entwined.
Breaths out in front.
Taken up
Combined.

Joined together by the power.
The forces that devoured
slowly ground them down.

He slid down the wet slate hill,
such a thrill.
Cried out with joy.
Like when he was a boy
playing with his favourite toy.

The clouds rolled in.
He looked back
up the track
to the rest of the crew
who threw themselves
with reckless abandon.
Down the slag heap,
past the sheep.
Who just looked and stared.
Long haired and scared.
Like ghosts from a bygone age.

Dark rain formed above the mountain.
Ready to burst like a fountain.
Down into the deep holes of pits.
Hundreds of metres
of grit and shit, moonlit.
They gazed in wonder.
Saw the rusty down ladder,
made them madder than ever
for the rage of adventure.

Careful now.
They crept through the gloom
of the aged heirlooms.
Mine train tracks and
fallen down shacks.
Iron workings thrust up through cloying tar.
Steel bars, metal jars and earthly scars.
Scattered all across the hills.

This place
once a fast hive of effort and industry.
Now silent.
Dark.
Foreboding.
Vast.

Sent from heaven
down the old canyon road.
She strode.

Fire in her eyes
searching for the prize
she would take as her own.

Under a painted moon
a fragile future strewn
ahead and below.

With arms open wide
no place to hide.
She glided across the snow.

Her body blue bright light.
Blinding all creatures with fright.
Resisting all they might.

It was useless
too strong.
Her angelic song.
Pulsed with the rhythm of devotion.

No control over emotion.
Guided by the notion.
To capture the ocean
of souls with her potion.

She forced them now,
to themselves disavow.
As she claimed the prize as her own.

Their souls she had taken.
Their wills forsaken.
She would not be mistaken.
Her faith unshaken.

The freedom to make mistakes.
That’s what it takes.

Wrapped in porcelain cloth
to keep out the cold.

The freedom to not be told
what to do.

The freedom to let it go.
Start again.
Make amends.

The freedom to be whatever you want to be.
Sat frozen by the fire.
Lost in the mire
of your own rotten thoughts.

The freedom to be taught
take the lesson
and pass it on or not.

The freedom to choose to lose
or refuse to keep losing at that.

The freedom to take whatever you make
be it real
or fake.

The freedom to let it go.
To let them know.
You know.

The freedom to hand it down.
To frown and say
there it is.
Do with it what you will.

Rain dripped through the hole in the roof.
No need to ask for the proof
that the heavens had forsaken him now.

The bag tight round his neck
unzipped the door just to check
nothing yet had been washed away.

It would not be a good day
he knew that now.
Decision to make
stay or plough
On.
Through the treacherous weather.

Past the boulders and heather.
Upwards and on.
It could all be a con.
A trick he played on himself.

Clutched the bag tight.
Tried with all his might.
To do what was right.

And hope for the bright white light
of morning.

The blood
spilled on the hood
of the 69 Camaro.

Despite his strength
he was no hero.

He took the second bullet
straight in the gullet.

Felt the pain
but no shame
as he struggled on in vain.

Crouched behind a wall
desperate to crawl.
Away.

Away.
Away.
AWAY.

The blood did spray.

Not on this day
would he let himself fall.

With a one, two, three
jumped up on one knee.
Emptied the clip
down the midday strip.

Held his breath.
Felt the glare
of the sun’s hot flair.

As the gun fell out of his blood drenched hands.

Crash and burn,
slash and turn.
He tilled the land for all it was worth.

The roof leaked in places.
The wind blew through the holes in the walls.
Blood, sweat and plenty of fears.

A fixer upper said the advert.
Potential paradise.
A slice of heaven on earth.

A tent inside a filthy stone cabin.
That’s all it was.
Make of it what you could.

And he would.
The mountain view
was never the same.

Under heavy morning mist
the valley below
froze.

While above he waited for the coffee on the stove.

Fragments.
That’s all that was left.
The memories lost,
it left her bereft.

Of meaning, purpose and a will to live.
They had lost everything.
There was no more to give.

The waters had reached the roof line,
the walls covered in brine.
Still it rained on.
All now gone.

Swallowed up by the swell,
it did no use to dwell
on what she was no longer
able to quell.

Still it rained on.
She saw a black Swan
glide graceful serene
past all that had been.

Just a few days before
she had stood by the door.
Felt the first spots of rain.
As it watered the plain.

It would just drain away.
That’s what they did say.
No need to pray.
To the heavens above.

Lost all they had loved.

Fatigue had set in
bones creaking ached.
Black heavy boots
with wet mud caked.

His eye on the prize.
His iron will staked.
On success at all costs.
Upwards he snaked.

Over sodden cold grounds.
Over earth rich mounds.
He would not be downed.
In the race to be crowned.

Breathless, bandaged and true
through dead woods he flew.
His mind on the prize.
Chasing one of those highs.

Heart beating a drum.
He knew not where from.
As he pounded the track.
Huge pack on his back.

He could see it just now
a sign over the brow.
With finish line in sight
ran with all his might.

To be first to cross
name on the trophy emboss
a winner at last.
Successfully vast.

Satisfaction guaranteed
in the hour of need.

Waiting to be freed
from turmoil and greed.

She climbed the dark stairs with a candle in one hand.
Rags in the other.

No time now
for the saintly brother.
The Holy sister
had arrived on time.

The bell chimed.
The awful crime
would be forced out into the light.
He would put up no fight.

In his hour of need
he would be freed.

She would pull out the seed
of betrayal,
proceed
with grace and speed.

Her words he did head
he would not impede.
It was guaranteed to succeed
in the hour of need.

Not today
not today.
That’s all she could say.

To the questions of dread.
Spinning round in her head.

No control over thoughts.
She felt so out of sorts.

Not today
not today.
It was all she could say.

The feelings of dread
through her body had spread.

She had doubts
and blackouts,
so many freakouts

Not today
not today.
Alone, from the fray
she would run away.

Find a space in her mind.
To herself be kind.

So the feelings that bind
her to herself enshrined.

She could cast off reborn
all the dark thoughts of scorn
that she would not morn
in their passing.

Not today.
Not today.

That moment when you find out your dog has died and your not even in the same time zone.
When you notice at the very last second that your about to put diesel in a petrol car.
That moment when you look back and see a sea of arms all raised to the sky and you scream “come on!”.
When your hot dirty toes reach the end of a cold sleeping bag.
That moment when you lie down, prop yourself up on your elbows and look down the mountain you have just climbed.
When she looks you straight in the eye and that smile you know so well spreads across her lips.
That moment when you say what you really feel and other people say they feel the same.
When you look across at the congregation and the only people you know are your enemies.
That moment as you climb drunk into the back of an old drafty cab and feel the puke rising in your throat.
When she leads you into the lift, pulls you close, the doors close and your alone together at last.
That moment when the ant disappears into the crack in the pavement.
When you sing a song in a husky voice that is as real as the day is long.
That moment when you stub your little toe on the bannister for the umpteenth time.
When your father asks if a dying man can have one last drink and you refuse.
That moment when you realise the sacred offering you have made means nothing and it’s all been a con.
When she says I love you and you feel numb.
That moment as you pass through the gates to the park and they laugh and you don’t care anymore.
When your soaked to the skin and your shins are bleeding.
That moment as she walks out of her knickers towards you and you see the moisture and your legs are shaking.
When your arm is twisted behind your back and your head is forced under the water.
That moment when you realise it was all a lie concocted to make you wait for nothing for no reason at all.
When you put your card in the machine and it won’t let you have any money.
That moment when you hand over a plastic bag of clean underwear at the train station and say goodbye.
When you notice the spelling mistake on the hospital ward door sign.
That moment when you wash your hands clean of oil and grime.
When you walk out of the plane exit door and the heat hits you like a tsunami.
That moment when they shout dinner is ready and it’s goddam pizza and salad again.
When he shows you how to fix that puncture using a bowl full of water.
That moment when you pass 1st time and can’t believe they will let you now drive unsupervised.
When they say come and see him one last time and you tell him you love him and the machine flatlines as you turn away.
That moment when you wake from an afternoon dream to find your ice cream has melted.
When you turn the last page and can’t believe it ended like that.
That moment when the alarm bell rings and you think what if it’s not just a test.
When your dog jumps up and leaves muddy paws on your white clean shirt.
That moment when the wasp finally finds the open window.
When you have had enough of the fucking bull shit hypocrisy of those in power.
That moment when the sun disappears but you can still see its glow.
When the leaves spin around you as the wind drives through the woods.
That moment sitting together in the lounge when the doorbell rings, the cars have arrived and it’s time to go.
When they announce that your flight is delayed and you find a quiet spot to shut your eyes.
That moment when you put the glass down and say no thanks I’ve had too much already.
When the 1st shots ring out and you run and dive for cover.
That moment when the wave takes you all the way to shore.
When you see the crash coming and you know its going to hurt but you keep on accelerating.
That moment when you give in because it’s the only option available at the time.
When you sit up in bed and think what’s that sound?
That moment when the burning sun goes behind a cloud and a cold shiver goes down your spine.
When your friends wave goodbye and you know it won’t ever be the same as it was on that night on the beach.
That moment when the drop happens and the bass kicks in and you feel the most alive you’ve ever felt.
When electricity courses through your veins and your breath is taken away.

That moment.