Bereaved

In her dreams the silent sea flows eternal
imprisoned in a pall of overhanging clouds

breathless infant cries, take shape,

and the fear in a swirling mist, prowls.

as each day rises and sets
memories are erased of the chord

descends into a black hole

and falls onto her own sword.

She passes it every night,
rows of teeth erupting from the rotting ground,
one lying flat, inscribed,
nineteen ninety eight, two thousand.

before she washes off the daily grime,
her image flickers in the mirror,
hardens, and the corner eye shows
the shadow of the reaper.

in another before,
she knew how to smile
made breakfast with love
for husband and child.

the curtains shut in November
never opened to let the light through
a formal letter on the mantlepiece
"deceased in action with crew"

she despised the shrouded words

lost all connection,

the shudders behind her back

the beginning of her rejection.

she built up her concrete wall

allowing herself to further sink,

turned away from the flailing limbs

the cushion, a pointer to her sin.

a single figure, ruined in the eye of the storm

a tiny twitch as she leaps,

prayers unremembered

she sleeps.

Pandora's legacy
The fluttering breeze
with fingers of cobweb heat
caress the contours of the flawless image
blazing ravenously atop the burnished hill.
Tantalising.
Nature is frozen in her presence
as man and beast stand stark,
her eyes of a thousand pains
pierce into the fragmented soul
and in her sterile wake;
the worm withers,
the apple glistens,
the naked tree,
shatters in to lifeless tears.
shards of which reflect
a time when the Primeval stalked
a land hopeless and devoid of all;
deafening Man in an array of unlocked sins
Flung further into despair by the final release.
The climax.
A pinprick beacon in the choking fumes
Hands flailing to grasp the solitary vision
Lost. Forever there.
Now, here in their unguarded minds
she immerses
feasts and gorges
on their rays and clouds
with an open gash of endless red
masking the empty smile.

A
building

A house of worship, a building of praise
A complex web, a layered maze
Sophisticated charm, seductive nature
Erected to hold in awe and rapture

A gaping hole in the bosom of the temple
Razor sharp jaws in its carapace of steel
Infatuated in pride and desired satisfaction
Each room smeared with a similar notion

Man and woman, women and Men
Bricks and mortar, barbie and Ken
Push the button, take the stairs

empty pockets and enter the lair

Caressing fingers, the moaning wind
Steeple thrusting in a nebula of sin
Blinking windows, shuttered eyes
Velvet depths, an ecstatic sigh

In a room of colours that have seen no tomorrow
Reclines blue, the shade of sweet silent Sorrow.
A jaded gasp breaks from the folds of a single bed
Drenched in the deepest, darkest and most malignant red

Clothes on the floor, how much for more?
Abstract from society, a pestilence in its core
Don’t give a fight or there’ll be trouble tonight
And to the bleak house the blushing sun extradites

So, when the stars blink to existence and the embers die out
Worldly shadows merge in a flood of debauchery and doubt
The forsaken building plunges to the knees and cries for shame
And the foundations whimper for the innocence lost in the game.

"spare change?" the voice was tentative, slow with a thick accent which wasn't entirely foreign-her pleas fell on deaf ears as each individual slipped on their impassive masks , blocking out the less attractive side of man- the cars roared past belching their fumes into her private chambers, houses leered down at her, their naked windows glinting, ever reflecting never absorbing.
They looked at her with closed eyes, baring their teeth with every word, arbitrating at her emaciated essence. Some pitied, others bowed their heads and accelerated, laughter died on the lips, for one glance at her, none could hide from the shaming disgust which emanated from her every pore. She was a slur, an anomaly on the cracked surface.
One will observe nothing, and though she was void of something, none saw her. So slowly day by monotonous day, through the meager clattering of inadequate coins she started to fade.

until one fateful day a boy walked past. He heard the pathetic whisper, yet he didn't rush past, or look then turn away, neither did his person throw embarrassed coins in front of the woman; the child stopped. Furrowing his brows, he heard it again, "spare change, sir?" the young heart jumped and redoubled its pace; confused he wondered what was happening. His ears, though no different from the multitude, didn't hear what the rest of the herd thought they perceived in the womans sentence-the deception, the trickery, swindling ones emotions in order to part with their precious coins to satisfy her own sordid needs- the little boy, his hands tucked in his jersey, a cap tilted to the side, twitched the gray gossamer curtains of inequity and gasping registered the pain, the humiliation and the need for humanity- back pedalling he turned- his puzzled eyes sought out and alighted upon a hunched form- a shawl was pitched across her sharp shoulders, the soles of her shoes were bitter with holes- the little boy walked over to the crouching form. The shadows hid the wretched womans features, but the boy was beyond noticing- he bent down on to the same level as the figure. He held out a soft pale hand, and disregarding the grime and filth, he gently placed his palm over onto the others, silent tears forming and glistening, leaving behind a trail of haunted pain and cruelty. the woman looked into the youths blazing eyes, this one boy, devoid of identity, crossing her path, had recognized her plight- through the murky depths, the patent layers, and the foggy mist- he understood-and cried; for the woman and the millions like her- and in this one random moment; there was a connection.
the rampant shame which coursed through the her blood burnt down in the throat and she raised her ravaged face, "more change needed sir?"