The Final Church Bells

picture credit:http://www.deviantart.com/art/empty-streets-56257322
 

We walk this earth sightless down cracked empty streets

led by our thoughts conceived in darkness,

turning to dark needs when they’re born.

And that’s why I walk, my legs driving me forward

by a restlessness I cannot control

and a restraint that is threatening to break,

as the fork ahead draws nearer to the clock that tells no time,

I am damned no matter what; let the final church bells chime.

the Confines of Control

 

Picture credit: unknown

You’ve wrapped me up in perpetual anticipation,

you woke the sleeping dragon who’s restlessly testing the confines of his control.

Cold fingers run down the length of my spine and I shiver, I am awake,

and in dire expectation to feel the impact of your force,

when you break through the restrictions into my receptive flesh,

and undertake to drive it through until I reach the end.

Red is the Sky

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Red-Sky-with-Lightning-27210564

The wild black sky hosts a lightshow

that damns everyone who dares stare

as they throw their spears, red with the blood

of those waiting to be pierced.

Civil War

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Urban-Decay-13-146831019

Axel is shouting out ‘I don’t need no Civil War’

to drown out rushing cars with hollow shells in control,

the faces in my rearview mirror tempt an instant death

ere I should accidentally catch a glimpse of the life

that reflects in those dull eyes.

A homeless man slowly trundles across the empty vacant lot

where a billboard promises modern offices 2 years ago,

and at the sidewalk the hood of a car of dubious vintage is up

whilst dirty jeans and waving arms proclaim the woes of loss not wanted.

‘Green’ at last, I can leave this place, I can leave these images behind 290 horses,

then feel the wind lift up my hair while the sun throws shadow creatures

at my black sunglasses and the road behind me recedes

into a civil war that’s already begun.

Submit

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Submit-177516848

I ‘m being strangled by the hand around my throat,

my body crushed against the rough brick wall,

until motion is reduced to just the panic in my eyes

and my chest is nearly bursting, as the turning point arise.

Yet the hold does not let go, every muscle remains tense

‘til you see the panic turn to craving that which you dispense.

It’s a calculated choice I make to step into the whirl,

even knowing that it is the end, next stop – the underworld.

Dark Side Of The Moon

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Dark-Side-Of-The-Moon-193321626

To the dark side of the moon

is where she fled to find the silence,

to escape into the pulsing

of the rhythmic bass guitar,

it’s the space where light’s not wanted

where the darkness is a calming

shield to ward off all intrusions

and no map will lead you there.

Here she revels on the moonscape,

in the air with drifting tendrils

of soft mist that intertwines

with the tendrils of her hair,

whilst through closed eyes she can see

past and future merging in

a delighted dance of freedom

even gravity can’t hold.

tumbleweeds.....

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Tumbleweed-78268537

 

A tumbleweed rolling through the streets in June,

holding hands with the sand clouds and crisp, yellow leaves,

on a day like any other - school, work, shop, cook –

that she felt the slow-releasing of recognising and acknowledging

the tendril of a spirit, once embedded now is freed,

as the tumbleweed has grabbed it in its thorns and is releasing

a long-standing hold that is...... just............ old..................

Dreams

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Transcendent-197599845

You’ve stolen my peace, my tranquility, my inner contentment,

leaving behind this hunger to push past the lucid dream

into a wonderland of hell where sane doesn’t live,

to feed off your flesh, feel your heat ‘til it burns

and these limbs pass to darkness once more.