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 Mar 2022 wren
guy scutellaro
born in the artic snow
she chromed
her heart
in steel

flames could
not
touch that heart

always a half a step ahead
sure
a few stumbles
but never a fall

and moonlight is just
a heartache in disquise

till one day
leaning out a car window
a scar upon his cheek
and the luck of the draw

was the jack of hearts

and the queen of diamonds
had
never met
anyone
quite like

the jack

of hearts,

black-haired blue-eyed
her beauty inspired
stupid men
to commit foolish acts

and as he smiled
the queen of diamonds
thought she had

the jack of hearts,

blue sky shimmering
in her eyes

jack became
the brightness
of her day

and the jack of hearts
saw a flame
flickering in her eyes
that he had never seen
in any women's eyes
before ...
                
               act. 2

... a strange destiny
was unraveling
and one long poker hand
was over
and the snowflakes came
down like ashes
under the street light

and then
the jack of hearts
walked away

a pale spirit fleeing
a graveyard
into the wall of night

and the queen of diamonds
cried

the sea into sky

with eyes
like twilight
waiting

to eat away the day
 Mar 2022 wren
guy scutellaro
voices in the wind swept rain
graves open and never close
eye of the storm

america we need you now
to fight against the monster

monster on the loose
putin's neck in a noose

the stench of death and deception
reaches up through the sky

freedom
freedom
freedom

FREE THE UKRAINE
 Mar 2022 wren
Erin
And what would happen if you
Looked into my eyes...

And realised?

These glazed eyes,
A distorted tautologous window.

A facade of transparency.
The window is misted
It’s distorted with the touch of an October morning.

And I fear.

You will not see through this window,
This glass.
Until it has shattered,
And all that remains is a soul,
That has been freed.
UK Samaritans Number- 116 123
 Mar 2022 wren
Brett
What is this malaise,
          that awakens with each yawning day.
Quite the tortured mystery,
          to have a mind that seems intent on being rid of me.
Staring at shapes of shadows,
          creating fables with a brain that’s addled
With a nameless affliction.
Kingdoms have lived and died,
          with only I baring witness to their fall and rise.
Scattered noon sunlight sneaks,
        between dusty blinds and sets aflame the world on my walls.
It is here that I feel,
          screams of terror and the joys of triumph.
The delicacy of a daydream.
A place for me.
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