THE ANGEL OF THE MORNING

The darkness passes
To nights recesses
As the Angel rises
Embraces, caresses.

Through angelic actions
Her wings will open,
With one calming touch
Our souls shall waken.

With visions deep
From inner eyes
We’ll embrace the earth
And the heavenly skies.

‘Awaken dear world
To the visions I bring,
As I charm you from sleep
Through the songs that I sing.

I’ll grant you a gift
So gracious and fine,
All darkness shall drain
And the light reign divine.

In this morning of innocence,
Embrace all simplicity,
Let your souls rise elated
As you embrace all its purity.’

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THE ANGEL SEA NYMPH

Nurtured by the waves
While soothed by the ripples,
She was born in the depths
But rises to the limits.
Like a child she awakes,
Through new eyes she discovers,
Enticed by its bounty,
A new world she uncovers.
Like Venus soaring
In one breathtaking motion,
Enchanted by the light,
New visions her temptation.

‘Swim with me my love
And dive beneath my oceans,
I’ll send ripples through streams
To heal you in their motions.
Divinely assured
We can rise up like the waves,
We can sail on the seas
And seek slumber neath its caves.

Gather reeds and roses
And scatter them gently down
Bed my seas in petals fresh
So when I rise they form my crown.

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QUESTIONS FOR THE NIGHT

The trees have lost their branches,
Their leaves long since took flight,
Barren, bare and lifeless they stand
As the mist engulfs the night.

The playground hauntingly sits alone,
Where have your petals gone?
You are the seed upon which they can grow,
Oh, where have your petals gone?

Pools of water lying still on the ground
Reflecting a lonely moon,
Why must your day always be night?
Only the stars can hear your tune.

Through the darkness the nightingale flies,
The nocturnal bird of night,
Yet its song soothes only the lonely
Who search for a soulful light.

Upon a bench a man sits waiting
For the new dawns early light,
But only sounds can give him life
As old years have stolen his sight.

To the naked seat beside him, he asks
Where have my friends all gone?
The ones who laughed and cherished life,
Oh, where have my friends all gone?

The tombstones stand, names form the past,
Where have your spirits gone?
Your memories are safe in a pillar of stone
But where have your spirits gone?

Along dark beaches wise women walk
Their knowledge as great as their years,
But slowly the waves engulf their feet
As they shed half water tears.

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WITHOUT NEEDING

Rip from me
My heart
And allow me
Not to care.
To love
Right now
Is too worthless,
Too wearisome.
I am weighed down
With sadness
And torment.
Let me feel
Nothing
Anymore.
I beg you.
Let me live
Without needing
Or being needed.
Let me pack up emotions
And store them away,
Safely,
Securely,
I will hold them
Once again
In a time
When many suns
Have found their setting
And many wrongs
Have been righted,
In a time
When I have learnt
How to be
Who it is
The Person that I am.

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SAFE IN YOUR HANDS

In the darkest of night, in the deepest of storms,
When all sound is eroded and all sight has elapsed.
When the entity arises with staff in his hand,
The Avenger of life; The Reaper, he stands.

When the world is divided and the soldier’s gun aimed,
As they gaze upon a land full of hatred and rage.
As war creates anger, base food for the weak
And the timid huddle together joined by a fearful streak.

No fear shall I have, no tear shall I cry,
No doubt for the future, no woe shall I sigh.

When ignorance breads hatred through the veins of brothers,
As the cord that binds us is untied and unattached.
When it’s brother against brother, battle of morals,
There can be no winner but forever foolish quarrels.

While the walls hold the cries of frightened little children,
In the heart of each stone lie the blood and the bruises.
The Adult, the Guardian, the Figure in the night
Makes innocent little children feel dirty neath the light.

No fear shall I have, no tear shall I cry,
No doubt for the future, no woe shall I sigh.

When disease engulfs and courage is tested,
The body feels betrayed by the mother, the protector.
As the ravages of decay mean now you walk, not run,
And the foreboding termination means tomorrow may never come.

When no more is there evidence of the strength of nature,
As the walls of destruction fall forth and crush the seed.
As the green of the earth becomes engulfed by doom,
And no more shall we witness the flowers beautiful bloom.

No fear shall I have, no tear shall I cry,
No doubt for the future, no woe shall I sigh.

For you will stand tall with strength in your hand,
Love in your heart and me at your command.
How could I fall into a crevice of decay,
When you stand beside me to bring life to my day.

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MY MUSE

Dance with me for a while you asked
And how could I refuse?
The belle of the ball at a soiree of cities
You are lady and goddess, the muse.

Deep in your heart I walked through you
To see you for what you are,
The product of passion and maker of magic
Like the light from a glorious star.

Home in your arms I was in you
And welcomed in from the cold,
You shone out your soul as you filled me with music
While your palaces shimmered with gold.

Comme La Petit Prince I came to you
Questioning life and romance,
Well I learned how to live ‘neath your city of light
And found real love in a solo dance.

In Père Lachaise I wept for you,
For the heroes you have lost,
The sparrow of Piaf, the spirit of Bernhardt
Seurat and Balzac and Proust.

Canvas of white, a child again
At play in the fields of you,
You opened the doors to your present and past
From the Palais Royal to the Pompidou.

You kept a watch both night and day
Lit a light for me to glide
From your cafes of jazz to your muscles of men
I inhaled every smoky dark side.

By Sacré-Cœur I looked on you
Till my eyes were pools of tears,
From La Tour Eiffel to your grand Musée du Louvre
I’d surrendered in you all my fears.

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ALONG THE WAYSIDE

Subdued by circumstance,
Sitting soulfully
In the shadow
Of uncertainty
As situations
Settle themselves
Into scenes played out
Beyond reach of understanding
Or certitude,
I succumb
To the subtle shifts
In atmospherical changes,
Accept the silences
As essential escapism
And shake
In the fallouts from storms
Rained down only
In the calmest corners of the day
As if to test me
And my corroding composure
And question my ability
To remain neutral
As trying themes
Surround me
Without
Directly involving me.

I am the shadow dancer,
Tip toeing over egg shells,
Fighting with a past
That won’t break
With the present
And a present
Too preoccupied
To see the future.

Subdued by circumstance,
Sitting somberly
In the shadow
Of insecurity
As untended wounds
Rise up before me
To cut and criticize me,
Judging me
From a position
Of misperceived perfection.

I have seen,
Before,
The light
And glow
Of a smile
And recognise it now,
Off in the distance,
Lost to the moment,
And worry
How to tempt it home,
To a home that is both
Too new
To be recognisable
And too soon made
To prove enough.

The dust,
Previously formed,
Has not settled
And yet we busy ourselves
Shifting the furniture
Of our current lives,
Sometimes aligned,
Sometimes bumping,
Sometimes
Trying to fit
The clumsiest of cupboards
Into the smallest of spaces.

Only time will tell
What fits where,
What will survive
And what will be
Surrendered
Somewhere,
Somehow,
Along the wayside.

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Pride and Prejudice, Beating the Bullies

I crept through corridors
Crying as a kid
In the corruption of
Cusses and curses,
Cruel and cringeworthy
Comments carried on carelessly
As comedy from cunning clowns
Whose calculus capabilities
Calculated to nothing more than
Calamitous catastrophes.
And so, to cover up this calamity,
I became their casualty,
Caught up in a cross fire
Of uncultured and uncultivated contempt,
Considering themselves
Capable comedians
And casting me center court
As their callous words
Cut and crippled me,
Corroding the core
Into a clunk of inescapable
And incomprehensible confusions,
Casting a cloud on every class,
A crisis in every playground,
And causing countless
Creative excuses
For cutting school
And cowering
In the cowardice
Of my cursed
Conviction.

You frightened
The fuck out of this
Fellow you named faggot
For nothing more than fun
And festered no more in me
Than a fear for feelings
I was far too young
To figure or fathom,
Forcing me to fight
For a freedom I felt
I freely deserved
But fortune falsely favoured
Fools, back then,
The faculty of footballers
Whose fractions fired
Fantastical favouritism,
The fundamental flaw of the feeble,
And frowned on frail fairies
Who followed the rules
But failed to find
Firm footing
On the field.

I drifted
Through dark days
That dug their way
Into darker nights,
Where dreams drew you
As demons
Distastefully delegated
To degrade me,
Deflate me, detest me,
Depict me
As depraved
Despicable deviant.
I didn’t know
That I’d dared to be
That different
Though I thought myself,
Even then,
More deserving
Than the deluge
Of your devilishly displaced
Discrimination.

I wonder now
If you’ve been
Withered and wizened
By your wicked ways?
Have you watched the world
And witnessed it grow?
How is the grown-up now,
Grown up?
Grown gradually good,
Greater, grateful
Or just more greasy,
Grim and grotesque?

Do they still bark of your bravado
Behind the bikes sheds,
In the bar rooms,
At the ball games?

I am better now,
Brighter and braver,
Reborn from the bullied boy
You couldn’t break,
Built a backbone in spite of all your backlash.
I am better balanced now
And see your barbarian banter
As nothing more than beastly, base, banality.
I am beyond your belligerent beliefs now,
And have broken
From the blemishes
You bored into me,
Bored me with,
By your bigoted bitterness,
Through your blackened brutishness
And see the blasphemy
Not in how bent I was
But in the bloodthirsty bully
The boisterous brotherhood
Begged you to become.

I have since grown
And gained
In all the gaiety
That a graceful God
Once gave me
And I see now,
Nothing more,
Nothing much,
Nothing lasting
In the power
You once pretended to possess
over my Pride and your Prejudice.

Pity be the preposterous
For profanity perishes before it prevails.

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MH17

I am the morning’s excitement
And the afternoon’s adrenalin,
The suitcase that’s been packed
And the closet that’s been emptied,
I am the silly song
That you heard on the radio
As the taxi whisked you away.
I am all the commotion
And the confusion at the gates
And the skipping couple in the queue,
I’m the oversized baggage
And panicked search for passports,
I am the liquids left in handbags
That you can’t take with you.

I am the last minute shopping
At duty free prices
From beer and wine
To cigarettes and chocolates,
I’m the magazines you bought
To read on the flight,
I’m the books to forget on the beach.
I am the baby that cries
In the buggy in front of you
And the boy that smiles
In the line behind you,
I am the red ribbon worn
On the jacket of the man
Who types on the laptop beside you.

I am the final greeting
As you board the plane,
But I never once believed
I’d be your final step on earth.

I am all the anguish that’s been left in your absence,
All the pain that’s departed you from pleasure,
I am the empty space in the air above,
I am the void that’s impossible to measure.

I am the white balloon set free to fly,
You are now the twinkling stars that fill our sky.

Passing Relations

We found each other for a while, for a moment

That should’ve lasted longer, while we searched

For a new life amid ashes of ones already lived

With frailties and fractures and losses in each.

We stopped for each other- a bond too briefly bred-

And in delighted ignorance planned out a future

As inseparable as sky from sea or water from land

Yet time, in all its wicked wisdom and wily wit,

Proved us more porous than primarily perceived.

We began as shadows; you the night and I day,

Serving distant Eire abroad in separate solo shifts

On Chevelaret’s street, coaxing coins from 13th

With pints of the black stuff and stirring them with

Fine fiddles and fanciful folklore long before Bercy

And Bibliotheque created culture and credibility.

But I felt drawn to you, caught by your secrets

And intrigued- as if you were a rendering of me-

Born earlier though arriving later- same baggage,

Same story; that free-falling flight from home-

From the fields and folk, the gossip and groans

That somehow led you here to this paltry place

That must have rang out, upon first impression,

Like the end of the Earth or, at least, last stop

For long shots and last chances.  Eventually

The first rays of summer found us at home

In this quirky quarter- all cozy and crouched

In Chinatown’s shadow, settled into life, the bar

And each other- blind to what lay in wait for us

Beyond the horizon. How did it happen, then,

In that single summer, in that glorious summer

Where we’d promised to make it the best of times,

That we ended up losing each other? I sat there

On foreign steps, covering them in foolish tears

As passersby watched on with worry and waited

For explanations that I didn’t know myself,

For I knew not, that day, how we’d failed each other.

We’d been no more than oil and water all the time,

We’d foolishly deluded ourselves into thinking us

A more compatible blend. But I admired you then,

In that time, in that interim as spring fell to summer,

I admired you then for all that you were and for all

That you tried to be, for the wounds you revealed to me-

Wounds you could not cure and so I lifted you

And carried you and feared for you and wondered

How to get in and worried, later, how to get away.

But, of course, you heard me too and cared for me,

You carried me and cured me too, for a while,

Within that fickle and finite time we had and shared.

Was the mix we made too explosive from the start,

Were we faithed before we’d begun, did we share

Too much on opposite sides of a sacrifice, in a bond

We made, loved and let break- brother and sister-

For a spell and, once in a while, Mother and son?

I was the adopted boy, adapted to be your brother,

I was given up where you’d given up, the follow-on

You needed to see and you the listener I looked on

As a mother never seen and you cried for all you’d lost

And all that could never have been.  We tried to heal

Together broken hearts- ones we thought we’d left

Back home- but memories came flooding back,

Shadows we hoped the past would file to forgetfulness

But time was not willing so we looked to each other.

It was, for but a precious moment, a way of letting go,

Of moving on. How little, in the middle of it all,

Did we know how soon we’d let go of each other.

For we would never be enough and nothing could cure

The washed over lines the hours neglected to bury.

I was not, to you, the lost child found and you,

Not for me, the shadowed mother returned. Was that

Our downfall; we’d hoped from each other too much

And found not even a whole summer on that street

With its towering temples, viewless windows and lovers

Who came to divert us from what lay uncovered?

Brother and sister; sipping coffees, learning French,

We taught each other a lot but failed to learn to hold on.

Where are you now and do you ever, for a moment,

Wander in your mind down that street to the bar

Were we talked and laughed and cried till dawn

Before heading home together, to lie together,

In our tiny home, gossiping and giggling in separate beds?

I see you sometimes in my mind’s eye- smoke in hand,

As always, and eyes lit up with excitement as we danced

Through that bar- our bar on Saturday nights as we simply

Entertained the audience perhaps just as simply as we

Entertained each other. In my mind we will always be

Dancing like that before closing the bar and finding comfort

In a drink and each other; Brother and sister for almost a summer,

Dancing in the ignorance of what autumn had in store for us.

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