He.

He is the very best of me
And the very worse.
He dances with our destiny,
But questions his own self-worth.
He looks around and takes it in,
He runs at the world
Head down.
A frown; a raised eyebrow;
And probably a thoughtless putdown.

He gives a shit what people think,
His anxieties on show,
But blow after blow after blow after blow
He keeps going forward,
Meeting it and taking it,
If sometimes his stoop is low.

Dance well precious one,
Dance with the devils you know.
Take heed and heart
And don’t despair,
For onwards you’ll go.

Go up to the top where the Gods love,
But go well when you go forth.
Announce yourself as their true heir,
And assert your determination to go higher.

At times you’ll almost break on your ascendancy.
But you won’t be broken,
You won’t be beaten down,
You won’t be silenced,
You won’t take that back seat;
You’ll turn up,
Because you’ve got to be there to make a difference.
And when it’s all done, you’ll have left your legacy.
He; We; Me.

She walks with destiny

She walks with destiny, like fire
Of ferocious heat and bright flame;
And lights the way when others tire
Expressed through countenance and frame:
Oh, so serene this kindly liar
Who those nighttime deeds could never tame.

But less to do, less passion spent,
Denies the world of honesty,
Which pharaonic eyes testament
And exude that fierce quality,
So all around know what she meant;
No locked up nymph of tragedy.

And from those eyes cut through pitch locks
So brightly, a blaze burns intense,
That draws you in whilst gently mocks,
Deftly dismantling your defence,
In sweet command of what she took,
A love not lost of innocence!

Have I finished?

This is enough, this life,
This bright being.
Seeing through these eyes,
What has come to pay.
Set out on this path,
A happy story,
This trajectory,
Wandered forth this day.

Have you had enough?
Had your fill, your spills?
Have you danced your dance?
Do you need to take a bow?
Have you built it up,
A golden treasury
Of memories,
Built-up your temples,
And then ensured they’re found?

I have done enough
But still, I must go on,
Destiny’s wish
Demands me head down.

What now comes to pass,
From this day,
Those superstructures
Lay on foundations
Of security.
They’re embellishments,
For I have finished.

Like A Summer’s Night

The night is dark like the often burnt ground,
When the skies sparkle with eternal fire,
Where the winds bring tastes to those yet to tire,
Bringing down the moors to be all-around.
And the tree boughs like pikestaffs guard the way,
To guide those deer who deftly search the night,
And whom homewardly dance, prance and fight,
Their weary legs wander to the coming day.

Of Service And Sacrifice

They were called to serve,
Called to duty and to fate.
When times were better,
Caring corralled in exemplar.
They formed up Our Wall.

Then they were called
In times of great distress,
To further service.

They knew some would die.
Some scarcely their training having ended
Taking up their oaths,
As all who serve do,
Spoken out loud
Or sworn and kept inside.

Their names inscribed on plastic tags.
Each name starts a story
And most will go untold,
Of honour, bravery, service and kindness,
In the face of relentless threat.

Honoured heroes.
Some names now echo,
Printed, etched and engraved,
Filling the nation’s hearts.
Their sacrifices applauded
As those lost, are called
To higher service.

Isolated Together

These strong roots tap deep,
Birds, bees, flowers, sing,
Saturated stone
And dirt at wellsprings,
From where we all drink,
Whilst we stand alone.

Solum distance love,
Clamouring to touch,
But when cooling winds blow,
From our firm stance,
We must not catch.

Long black shadows form
From the midday light,
Tracking on the ground.
We’re not yet withering,
But harvest must come.

Loves lost,
We yearn for those holy places
Of ancient times:
Hilltops, Valleys, Rivers, Seas,
Tasted in dreams.

Yet still, we sing our stories,
From this splendid abandonment.
Others make glory,
And harvest the spent.

Our songs peel their endeavours,
Whilst we bask in the sun,
In isolation in homely surrounds,
We reach out to know we’re heard.

Each day dies
And cold comes.
In darkness,
We wait for the morning.

And the dawn will come,
And we will drink deep again,
And songs will be sung,
Together.

Goodbye

This is my long goodbye.
My preminicious destiny,
Taking away what’s left of me,
Giving way to the lie.

Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

I’d cry,
But that is yet to come.
I’m done,
But how long to go on?
Those youthful indiscretions haunt me
And my ghosts stalk in the darkness,
Waiting for the moment to eviscerate.
To leave me at first hollow,
My life, disentangled and strewn before me,
Before I am lost to life.

Beware. Beware. Beware. Beware.

My tears would cry dry,
My face feigns hope,
My future concluding.
I am toxic
And I despair.

Despair. Despair.

I walk with you all at my side,
But I am like mummified remains,
Hollowed and transformed,
Yet wrapped in this life,
But I am the ghost,
For my time has done.

What Elephant Name

There’s an elephant in the room,
A huge looming spectoral presence,
That I brought into being and that haunts me.
I ignore glimpses of that entity,
But everyone else senses it’s there,
And no one utters a word.

I fear it.

If I accidentally spoke its name,
Or if they were to raise their gaze,
Or were it to be pointed out,
This gargantuan ghostly form
Would be realised for all to see.

It terrifies me.

And so it will go unsaid,
Until no longer can it be contained.
It will loose and break free,
And shake the foundations
Of the room, of the stability.

I am petrified.

But maybe if we spoke its name
We could conjure it into life?
Look it in the eye,
Feel its hot breath on our cheeks.
Maybe then we’d deal with the elephant.
Perhaps then we could closet it
Away with the skeletons.
Put so much paper over the cracks
They hold fast and true.
Create a polite fiction
And one day, at it, laugh.

I am a fool.

Alone with an elephant.
I don’t know its name,
Although I knew its birth.
I don’t want to look its way,
But I’ll know it when I see it.

Darkened Dreams

There is a darkness
I saw in a dream
In a future dream
In a whisp of me
That left me alone
Freely engulfing me

And in that dream
No longer did that great luminary
Travail in the blue
For the sun was darkened

Men grubbed for what they could
And then turned to each other
First with charity and benevolence
But later with blackened hearts
As their souls grew cold

And as I stirred
Children clawed at my ascending form
And I looked down upon mortality
And humanity stared back
With hollowed eyes black with fear

Their desperation engrained
Their tears went lost before the drop
And tainted the air
Poisoning their agonised last breath

I could not help them
As I groped in the nothing
My hands like obsidian
But pulsing with blackened blood

There is a darkness
I saw in a dream
In a passing dream
There was a gasp
That left me alone
And I was engulfed

Fear

That foreign place, 
Those foreign faces,
Reflected in your mirror.
Recoiling from that future light,
Finding solace in your own midlight,
The answer, if you dare, is there.