sonnets

Mute


Remember that grey time we blushed as one?
Our fledgling wings spread bold against the world.
Time ceased, too soon, the swan
The grievous neck remains so stiffly furled.

Obscuring mists cold-kiss the gravid dead,
Sound taboo, a silence clouds to reign.
Dance not for fear of broken trudge, unled
And dreams are plughole swirls betrothed to drain.

A gravestone brandished tempts forlorn attack.
Contorted face the build or bludgeon choice.
To form the keystone of revival's shack
I wept my thankful tears in colour's voice.

19 Crowns


‘Twas vivid day, and all was peace and right,
‘Til crept through shielding orb - a daemon bug,
With evil will, its teeth within you dug,
And warped your day to dark and ailing night.

Now wrapped in silk cocoon of bedroom gaol,
A sickly venom surfs through every vein,
Each sinew throbs ablaze with howling pain,
Carniv’rous groom-louse peers through fettered veil.

As church bells, distant, toll a daunting chord,
Your white knights battle wretches deep inside,
And through dark shroud, bright spears of dawn now glide,
May rest equip your hand with sharpened sword.

Arise and slash the silken bars, reborn,
And slay the beast in bold and golden morn.

The Man


A stunning front, a monolithic stone.
Though many hike the slopes in hazy flock,
The monolith will choose to be alone.
A molten past to every solid rock.

A mask of shrubs will manifest each night.
The slopes could glow will flowers of brilliant gold,
Or warp to gorse of savage, thorny bite.
Beneath each bloom, the ground is always cold

But every dormant heart shall swell once more,
& burst its guts in tragic, primal heave.
The shrubs will burn & ash will coat the floor,
But that adoring flock shall never leave.

They’ll melt ’til pools of life and liquid bone,
To blend into that glorious molten stone.

Tear your home out


Back home to where you wore your hair back-combed,
This life of yours is near a palindrome,
Back from far-off lands in which you’ve roamed.
This prison sentence always leads back home.

So at the country’s border feel it start,

The rumbles from beneah familiar earth,

Too late, you feel the sinking of your heart;

A toxic antidote to all rebirth.

The rumbling ground will sprout forgotten combs,

Which force your locks & all the you we see.

With sticky sprays & volumising foams,

From what you are to here, what you will be.

Reflect on twisted locks locked, mindset key

Thrown into lake to swallow mirror me.

Mouth to hand


Pray coppers cluthed in palm will see you bread,
While mirthy dogs content with flesh-less bone.
The green of aged coins that fills your head;
A rich pea soup, amid I pray alone.

The clack of bone on tooth contains a taunt,

But not the jibe of having more than you.

Their humble loves for simple pleasures flaunt,

While on your ego, bitten, you must chew.

And though our oxidation can be seen,

As walls of sickly green round us innure.

The coins which hold our faces lose their sheen,

But under rusty flesh the core is pure.

What’s ossified - a marrow blooms within

The brightest hopes lurk past the hardest skin.