Mortality


This death that creeps in

Is neither yours nor mine

It doesn’t discriminate 

Red white black and blue

It, just, is…

It stays its hand

When you breathe out

Each night when your bones creak

It lets out a sigh

Like an old friend, it waits by your side…

It’s not the darkness you see

In the shadows

That’s just your fear of an unknown light

Death loves you

Just like life, it lurks…

In that empty room

In the depth of the night 

When you decide to stop your fight 

Its embrace is warm

And like your angel, it lets you fly…

I listen to the braying of my heart

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It beats without permission

This mechanical piece of passion

And when the world around me gives up

And the dreams are falling apart

I listen to the braying of my heart

 

The candles they burn out

At the turn of that last page

My story remains unread

In the depth of the dark

I still listen to the braying of my heart

 

My mirror it stares

A boorish sight it beholds

Hollow eyes on a blank canvas

While they deafen out my soul’s talk

I listen to the braying of my heart

 

The hands are now numb

The world passed me by

As my soul turns weary

And legs give up the walk

I listen to the braying of my heart

Undeterred.

I am. I am. I am.

The Song

As they float in
These forlorn notes
They bring about a memory
Of the times you were held close

As the voice spreads out
Through the cracks of the black veil
You wonder why this song
Leaves your heart broken and pale

Then comes the joy
so sweet and contagious
From the heart of the Irishman
A voice so loud yet magnanimous

Some they make you dance
Others make your soul cry
But each one plays some part
In the story of your life

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The Red Shoe

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A little red shoe
Is the gateway
To the world
Full of dreams for you

It lies in innocence
Deep in the garden
Of my blooming daffodils
Awaiting your remembrance

A swing set sways
Blown by the wind
Wishing for your company
On this winter’s day

Awaiting your tiny hands
That held on to the chains
And with each rise
Imagined unknown mysterious lands

A lovely dressed up doll
Sits alone at your tea party
She misses the hugs
That kept away the night’s cold

She awaits mundane conversations
Your fairy tale concerns
The view from the dollhouse now:
Everyday is a dark revelation

Perched on my window sill
My cold dark mind
Flutters like that bee
Buzzing around my daffodils

They miss your touch so tender
Their beauty belying the truth
They bloom from the love
Seeping through from six feet under….

Sepulcher

Standing atop the hill
Where she fell
Where her beauty and her soul
In the sunlight do dwell

It is here that I walk
Alone until its dark
Then I lose myself
And my mind falls apart

Did they take her
Up this clumsy way
In a lonesome hearse
On a cold winter day

Or did they let her headless
Lump rot, in the sun
And then build a sepulcher
And call her “the one”

I wonder what that angel thought
The one whose smile is etched in stone
Deep down she might have cried
For the girl who died alone

These walls grim at my touch
Behind the dirt and grime
Tell a tale of a beauty
That stood the test of time

She was a thought
A story to the empty hearts
A few worthy words
Painted into someone’s art

One day she fell in love
With the mirrored reflection
Of her own beauty
And its flawed perfection

When I now look upon
The same silver screen
It simply shines the mighty road
And sees right through me

That life that went away
Silently in a guillotine
It still lurks around here
Floating on the night breeze

Today she lies
A pile of broken bones
Among friends and foes
Buried under the same stone

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***

I walk down the path
Passing by each goodbye
Walking among the hearts I broke
and those who made me cry

I walk the empty roads
Till dusk beckons me home
I look around at the last of light
Back into my sepulcher I go….

The day she cried…

She cried
For souls lost
Love forlorn
And tombs in gold were cast

Like flickers of a lamp
The tiny hearts they beat
Fading slowly I wonder
Is their pain the same as the one she feels

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When did innocence die
Was it the cold November day
Or has it been dying
Since He left us to wander astray

She cried
Wondering where the brother went
Sighing about how without a fight
One loses a best friend

How do we walk on
Paths laid out by those who rest
How do we smile
Across shrouds of souls thus blessed?

This little angel
In my minds unnerved eye
She cries today
As the processions pass her by

How many more sons
How many brothers
Must walk this cursed path
She wonders

And then in a breathy sigh
She walks back through the rusted doors
Wondering does he play here still?
Are those his footsteps on the floor??

The eruption of Vesuvius

The day he witnessed
In an unearthly awe
With the painters eye
In black heavens lost

He told the story
Of those in peril
From the humanity
To the leaves and their tendrils

I look at it today
The yellow hearts
Flying in the black sky
Tearing the world apart

I wonder if he stood
Paralysed in fear
Or reveled in the purity
Of a destruction so clear!

Did he wonder about death
Or celebrate a life lived
Did he think to himself
Wrath like this can be willed!

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