Wednesday 25 June 2014

AND DEATH DIED...




There is this need
This
Pressing need
To write a sad song
And lament my good fortune
Shed shameless tears
That burn like acid
Corroding the
Calm that plagues me

I want
To step out naked
Into the stormy downpour
And get drenched
Along with the hope
That now wears me
Without my consent –
Catch a grave cold.

This need
To damn it all
And step back
In awkward celebration
Of impending doom
While
They
Who came to dance
With me loiter
On an expectant dance floor

I need
To find pain and
Weave her into my
Consciousness
Strum the minor chords
Of fatality –
A prelude to oblivion

This haunting
Unrelenting
Need
To
Crumble
Under the weight
Of something
Mysterious –
A potent
Enigma


Tell them…
The ones who had held
Their breaths
Five long years
Fearing to
Let what’s in out
And adamant
On letting what’s out in
Not sure what will finally break
Me
Tell them they
Can go on and breathe
Now
That
I am free

But let them know
I sit here
Composing a dirge
As I wait
To be taught
How
To live

Without death

Friday 6 June 2014

DARKENED


I do not sit alone
In this greying space
Almost drowning
In tears
While writing
A long
Melancholic poem.

I sit here
Just
Drowning
Letting
Myself
Sink
As
I
Mark
Time
Seconds
Before
My last breath
Is snuffed
Out
I come up for air

You see it is thinning.
Man...
You did not tell me
I was coming up
For nothing...
There's nothing left
The earth packed up and left...
No
Air

This night
Is too long
And man is vain

A sad hymn
Plays
In the background
Voices leap out
Of the tune
And vanish
Into a vacuum

All is darkened

The bass stays with me
Awhile...
Deep
Resonating
"Be still my soul"
he sings.

The sprite
In flight
Hesitates
Then slips too
Into blackness

All...is darkened

Slowly
Blood gives way
To death
She
Courses
Through long days
Hitting loves
Corrupting tomorrows
Leaving a seared trail
Flames engulf hope!

All...all is darkened
And the night
Is languid


Caught
On the faint line
Between fair and foul
i crawl to the man's side
There...
In Gethsemane
I plead
And he
While mortals sleep

"If it be thy will...
Let this cup pass from me"

Even there
With him
Ebony clouds
Hide a blood moon
And
All
Is soot

In the vale of tears

Wednesday 4 June 2014

RANSOM



What was he 
But a lean frame 
Clothed in blood 
And sweat 
And spit
Swooning 
On tired feet
Weighed down 
By ringed spikes 
And a coloured robe
Flesh hanging 
In loose shreds 
Bones exposed
Eyes sunken 
Face ashen?


What was he 
But a sorry sight
Battered
Bruised
Torn
Mirroring 
The state 
Of our spirits
Bound 
By the bonds 
that were ours?


What was he
our dying lord
Praying 
With breath 
He couldn’t afford?


On the count
Of three
His words 
Echo 
In our hearts
As he steps
Out 
From death’s bands
Brought forth
From the mortal tomb

“See…


I make all things new”