Incessant Beating

This heart ascends the highest peak
skittering across gravel
in valley deep,
skimming dangerously on ice
having wandered for an age
aged, old and tired
barely able to sustain a slight beat
all the energy, all the effort
spent on goals and posts
forever surprised upon reaching,
that happiness ain’t waiting
nor life
nor that dream
that stream charging,
clearing a path.
No, uphill this battle has been
yet up holds nothing
but a steep cliff
and a temptation
to lay to rest
the incessant beating.

Lucky Life

Can the luck change
oh heart of mine
can I see the Sun
once raising through the sky of life
can the tides drop their deathly lash
at my feet for one brief moment where I stand
will I hear the beauty of birds
who sing longing tunes to the world
can this body bear the warmth of summer rain
and wonder why it had been so long
can the luck change, my love
can this life change for once
and let me in into the world
can I see the Sun for once
beyond the chilly gloom of winter
that has stayed far too long.
Can luck ever change, my life,
before the end is near?

Concrete bones

I try and I try
to be all that perfect
all that held
as if by silken ribbons
upon my hips
with no support needed
no praises heaped
to inflate the ego that is healthy
but what you don’t see
are all the pillions and pillars of concrete and steel
where the bones should be
to help upright a deflated soul
lost of its vibrancy
long time ago.
Do you see the plastic now?
The empty eyes
and the waxy skin?
I try and I try
to be real
to be me
but fumble upon my own feet
as surely as gravity.


Little by little, the heart breaks
upon hearing facts
it has known for an age.


Quietly, oh so quietly

new dawn breaks across the dim sky

finally, oh finally

zealous warmth seeks out the cold,

but what’s the use, my dear,

of this new light, new day

when the hopeful heart is no more.

The desire for embrace long forgotten

in the murky memories of the past,

of what once was

now remains but mere bones

of an imperfect human soul.

Take the light back, my dear Sun,

take the light back.

Curl back thy warmth

for it is wasted on this land.

No one lives here anymore.

Junk Yard

Honey stared outside at the yard
littered with broken furniture
and heard the thousand sounds rain made
falling on the junk yard, drumming like a symphony
a thousand voice singing.
She turned around and listened to the quiet house
her parents were no longer fighting
no longer shouting profanities
yes, she knew what they were
she snuck out to old Betsy’s place next door when she could
Betsy had an old TV you see
and the two would keep it company over tea and broken biscuits
when Honey was home alone
which was mostly
her mum didn’t count really, hungover and barely able to speak.
Honey quietly pushed the door open
and stepped out in the rain
feeling beads of water falling on her face
and that’s when she cried
under the mask of rain
she let it out.
She wanted change
someone to care for her
someone to say, ‘Oh Honey, let me get you a plate’.
She stood under the rain for as long as she could
till the darkness took over
and the yard looked friendly no more.
She hated to go inside
for it was no home
a room she had to herself
the couch as her bed
and no one at night bothered to read a story
or tuck her in and kiss her goodnight.
There was good old Betsy
who would welcome darling Honey home
and tuck her in with a story
and a glass of milk
but only on the nights she was alone.
But it wasn’t just the sky crying tonight
it was Honey’s heart breaking
for this morning when she’d gone over
Betsy was no more.
Today, no one had cared for Honey
just another broken thing to add to the pile outside.