YOUR DEATH

 

 

I gave you a death you did not deserve,
or so my guilt tells me –
your body wrapped beneath metal tracks
electricity
sneering;
and with the gurgled howl of Hades snarl
your scorched soul screeched –
surrendering.

SM©2017

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THE CELLAR

Beneath the scholastic tyranny of school
the cellar wept –
tears trapped by Wilkes’ wife’s history –
misguided tales
colliding
with the depths of Cromwellian mystery.

Phantoms
prowled its tunnels
sliding silent toward the church
scaring encumbering children
who dared the Ironsides to rise and march.

Yet it was there where the tins of powder paints
would sit in confused amusement
escaping colours bleeding the bricks
and there where the wood would pierce
child’s artful fingers
splintered skin
pin worrying
as the prick would flick them out.

Coal rumbled those trail tracks
when the coalman tipped his hessian sacks
as the gardeners’ spades rose for attention
blades clad
with fresh wet mud pats.

But no one wore their monitor’s badge
with fear less apparent
than myself –
my presence sending wood lice scurrying
chattering their clattering legs,
the subterranean passages
stretching into infinity –
a grave underworld of interlacing hideouts
religiously futile.

Cobwebs mapped my pony-tailed hair
and clung to my artist’s apron
as I reached for the jam jars
their brushes bristling in the dankness –
and whilst I stacked the sketchbooks pile high
the hand of my oppressor plunged me into darkness.

A prank
to force my fear to tremble,
a bully’s joy
to see me fail.
a wish to hear my spirit crumble,
to feel the price within my wail.

Feet frozen on concrete
an ominous thumping in my chest
disturbing the silence –
and then for sure there was a scraping
and for all my thoughts
a zombie
resurrecting
its fiery eye swaying above the slag.

But I did not cry
and I did not crumble,
but ran the wooden steps
to stumble up
and there I stood
my fear defying
to slip the switch
and turn the bully’s power
out.

She stared bemused
then turned
to scurry away
her gang of copycat picaroons
following furiously.

And so
I won that battle –
me
myself
and my desire
to remain an individual,
refusing
to join the ranks of the ordinary –
who were always
far more scared
than
I.

SM©2015

LEGS

 

 

 

Legs
Nothing but legs
And unpolished shoes
And suits
Suits standing to attention
Their pinstripes wiping grins
From off their wearers’ faces
(All she could remember)
Basket
Cascading  feminine wiles,
Tupperware
Gliding.
No one wanting
No one considering retrieval,
And strangely no pain,
Despite a leg pierced in metal,
Until she stood
The unplugged rod of iron
Releasing a sudden rush of blood
Drowning her sock.
But where was her shoe?
What happened?
What happened to her shoe!
Feet running,
Flying,
Travelling,
Defying,
Then
Trapped
Between closing doors
And all those angry
Other shoe wearers
Glowering,
Because of her misjudged leap
Of last minute desperation.
Her shoe
Disregarded
Under the now delayed
9.30 train
To Waterloo.
Her shoe
Never minding,
Never minding,
Never minding
THE GAP.

SM©2014

NATURE

 

 

 

 

 

The logarithmical dance of the Nautilus shell spiralling in a Fibonacci of frenzy
the Golden Ratio of my DNA married to the infinite –
from the infinitesimal
to the vast immeasurable
in a helical of universality.
And see
it continues
in the whirlpools of cyclones
and the intricate patterns on discarded pine cones
and the swirls of the curled vipers hissing;
snail houses
goat horns
vine tendrils – with twists in –
molluscs
and millipedes
and sunflower seed beds when pollen sits waiting –
and the Romanesque cauli now gracing my lunch plate
is somehow my DNA’s new closest soul mate!
How extraordinary nature is.

 

SM©2015

TRIPALIUM

 

 

They sit inside a marriage
dead eyes
silent of conversation
their bodies
etched
with the echo of memory.
Language is wordless
still lips on discordant faces
hung
disdainfully –
their child
rocked by the trains motion
asleep
under the wait
of a fraid
straw hat.

SM©2015

DISTORTION

 

 

 

Ageing wearies me
strips me of myself
takes me to an unfamiliar place
where youth screams to be remembered.
Bones hinder
and other people’s perceptions
trip into uncertainty
entrusted thoughts –
knowledge
gradually dismembered.

 

SM©2015

PROUD FLESH

From out of the mouth of a graze

births a granulated tissue head,

a hypertrophic alien, mutant and muling,

authority deemed from its point of perception.

The raw pink cranium of proud flesh

taunts on every movement,

cellular components enlarging daily,

it’s engorged wound

wide

and weeping with defeat,

the failure

to keep this wild child

forbidden.

SM©2015