I took you for granted,
The mass of grey
That makes me rebel,
That makes me obey.

No matter
My silent partner
Present like deep waters,
A distant rumbling ignored.

Twisting joy
Marbling its way
From head to toe
Infusing every corpuscle
Sending muscles into spasm.

We are peak humans.
We get what we need,
We demand what we want,
We buy, we buy, we buy.
We dispose, dispose, dispose.

Where it all goes, no one really knows.

Sure, some of us stop and think,
Knowing we're close to the brink,
But most of us continue to
Buy, Buy, Buy
then
Dispose, dispose, dispose.

Still not knowing where it all goes.

So here is my early apology,
To you, my son and daughter,
For belated action,
For consuming and burning,
For breaking your world.

For a ****** Healer,
He sure had a dour demeanour:
More of an android
Than Sigmund Freud.

A truly lousy Physician;
Missionary is his favoured position!
I fired him after one consultation,
He knew nothing of fornication!

He said he was overly-qualified,
In *** he was apparently certified.
But he must have faked an ******,
During his oral examination.

Eyes sting
Words fail to form
The plea of the mind
Echoes in the closed mouth
Fingers linger above a too-bright screen...

Words floating in the ether
Tied to a copper wire tether:
An outlet for an outlet.

These online wordshapes composed offline,
Composed in haste and left unedited,
Are but a proxy for real-world emotions.

Shall I 'Tweet' and forget in shame?
Or 'Delete' to burst these floating words?

You play with your fringe
Curl it behind your ear
Oblivious to the miracle
That bought you here
A fast five years ago
"Time flies" parents often say
But I remember every day,
Not as a blur
Or through half-shut sleepy eyes,
But with high definition
And surround sound.
Yes, I remember each question asked
Each tantrum and cuddle
But most of all, each kiss on the cheek
As you slept the gentlest sleep.

Our bed, a family fortress.
Your mother and I
- Puppet King and Puppet Queen -
Surrender our thrones each night
Lowering the drawbridge,
An open invite to you junior marauders,
Swordless and wordless
As you slowly storm the ramparts,
Kicking and flailing,
Before you fall asleep between us.

You wake
You play
You eat
and repeat.

I wake
I work
I snack
and repeat.

Our routines compete,
Neither of us admit defeat.

I have my contracted commitments,
You have your play prerogative.

But let's call a truce
And negotiate over a little juice.

A cloud formation
Never to be repeated
Farewell T Rex cloud.

Double beds are a bad idea.
Everyone knows familiarity breeds contempt,
But not everyone realises that double beds breed contempt AND children.
Yes, I do believe in a single bed policy.
Double beds for married folk is a total fallacy.

Do we really need double beds?
They're all elbows and knees and farts.
Why can't we sleep apart?
Meet up in the morning and smugly tell each other how well you slept.
Maybe arrange to have a twenty minute cuddle in a neutral bed.

See, no double bed no sleepless nights.
No simmering hostility because of a careless knee,
No cold war because of cold feet,
No lifelong bitterness because of blanket stealing.
And no ill-feeling because "you're taking more space than me!"

Visual heaven,
Swirls all above me,
Moons and stars whisked into one.
Who is stirring the night sky
Whilst I battle on?

Chaos both high and low,
Danger here on the ground
Serene safety high above.
A contrast not lost on me.
Do I battle on?

An inviting heavenly white
A ****** red stained green
An ache in my chest
My senses fading.
Is this death I feel?

The human form in darkness
Is a frightening vision to behold
Be it a giant of a man
Or the slightest of child
A shadowy silhouette
Always makes my blood run cold.

Buzz of costly light hurts
Pockmarked rocky currency
Buys a quiet night

Snow, unexpected
Causes excitement and fear.
How will I get home?

Are you religious?
No
Why?

Are you religious?
Yes
Why?

Empty Church, free of worship.
Solemn words trapped in stone.
Echoes of song long since dissipated.
The tired Eagle spies fewer prey
As age erodes the congregation.

Faith is now displaced by modern life.
No time nor inclination to pray have they:
Hymns have too many lyrics
They offer no repetitive melodies
When was the last poor soul saved?

Yet faith in the Establishment remains,
It's failing flock clinging to the rock,
Demonstrating their faith in His return
Through small hopelessly hopeful acts,
Such as a 'Clergy Parking Only' sign.

Why were you late to school?
Sir, I rescued a cat from a tree.

And why were you late to school?
Sir, I put a cat up a tree.

It was at this point the teacher suspected a conspiracy.

Your tall feathery flowered plumes
Set on metre long stalks
Sashay in the soft breeze
Bringing to mind catwalk models
Of stature, poise and grace.
But you are just glorified grass,
Whose time has now passed.

Thirty feet of benevolence
Born of serrated, sharpened
Surrendered wickedness

The Angel's redemptive gaze
Fixes like a bayonet
On those who leave an offering

Partly made of blooded knives
Mostly made of amnestied knives:
Behold the alloy Angel saving lives.

Deconsecrated, inevitably 'haunted'
This ex-Church shorn of dignity
Whose stone is soaked in prayer
Stands forsaken in its field;
A laughing stock among the villagers
Whose descendants walked a weekly pilgrimage
On a well worn path to its open door
Seeking succour and assurances
That hardship would be rewarded
But whose rotted corpses
Are visited but once a generation
By Daredevil schoolchildren
Irreverent spirits on their own pilgrimage
Buoyed by bravado
Nervous of the paranormal
With not a thought for the former Land Lord.

He's not been well,
He's experienced a living Hell,
But he's got guts
And, over time, he's realised
It's not him that's ******* nuts.

Lies surf on her every breath
The words spill out spit wet
To writhe on the ground
Like a fish out of water

Not one for the truth is she
It is devoured in her mind's womb
By its own cerebral twin:
The Serpent of her soul.