THEY

Maybe the angels
Saw the light
Like mosquitoes in the night
Bulb turned on
In my room

So they hurry through opened window to me!

And I'm telling them

-There's no life in here for you,
you're going to die.

I

I'm peeking through keyhole!
There's me in an empty room

It's summer night
Just to let you know

If I open the window
Mosquitoes will enter

This way
Completely is enough for me

astonished veins
are bursting
with poems
among the debris
I find a notebook,
sitting on the edge

midnight sparked a flame
and ate through the page,
my first word
was confused and excited
burning to a nova

images of purple dawns
bright green moons
pink trees and yellow blooms.
flood my memory,
these are the shining eyes
of a night walker

reflected in the window
of your black soul.
a skein of feeling
pimples my skin

My poetry is waiting in the wings,
its melody is halted by so many things,
with dashing nurses, pills,
all sorts of holes to fill with this and that 
and stop my pains
waited on, our every whim 
rewarded with a smile,
while storms of rain accost the window panes
warm wrapped in blankets we remain prostrate
helpless in our present state
wondering what time it is 
as time has gone away
and soon its night before another day. 

Tough Love

Slithering on shards of bone, I bleed profusely now
rapture streaming from a fractured face
nothing to impede my passage as I seek the love
of she who sits upon the throne of grace

ebon hair cascading down on breasts of sculptured pearl
eyes that glow a luscious evil green
a goddess from the nether realms intent and hungry now
waiting for my lust to drain me clean

the night screams
as I rip at the fabric
covering my mind
attempting to
tear out the ‘look’

poisoned barbs dig deep
your anger descends
as does each stab,
you look down
from so very high
but no longer see me

curling under the stars
and held in agony
without a single tear
I cry a river of silent voices
on a pillow of crimson stars

bleeding out your venom
I become transparent,
again I feel your ire
and seconds later
something dies

emerald skein
clothed in a haze
resolute and brazen

treacle breadths
and spirit sheen

cast me forgotten
in plainclothes warrior
worn

i was first foremost and last
the ember shrouded
edging out the watermarked
curling celluloid
into smoke

taste the future on my wrists
hot bow breath down the
wastelands of her spine
writhing soft as the oracles
pallet of tinge
wrapped in cascades
entropy wins

and the little values
of vertigo
spin

Emerging like a shadow
pulled from the night.
Outlined by light,
he waits.

On noiseless feet
going where reality dares not
Those who did her wrong, he had not forgot
nor forgotten was the promise made.

On rage filled wings
he soars through the sky
deciding who's turn it is to die.
Talons outstretched, searching for prey.

Soul catcher, dream snatcher
A wounded heart, sworn to protect
following years of neglect.
The Raven will have his day

Ian and Loved.. By.......Duo poets

Better to walk the beach alone,
you too
Better to walk the beach alone,

Friends will gather,
as they call
your name
one by one.

Ian
and
Loved

Loved
and
Ian

Life can be so
very lonely
even when...
in a crowded room

Better to walk the beach alone,
never moan
one day the world
will you, alone own...

The small bard was
also ours!!!!!!

Confession

spawned from lustful fornication
born without a name
reared by those unfit to coach
the playing of life’s game

absorbing knowledge like a sponge
daring to be strange
yet all the while still wishing
I had the will to change

Must children born
in the dark of night
wake up to see the morning?

Why should they live
persistent in the mind,
why should they feed on thoughts
and grow great wings
to fly like bats beneath the sky?

Why must they haunt
my waking dreams,
these fey unholy children?

Why do they call me by my name,
why do they sing my song?

Their gloating is a symphony
of heartlessness
and humour,
their toothless grins,
and gaping eyes,
their distant mien,
their slimy little tongues