Category: Poetry

I had gotten so dependent on your rulessness, each day the moon shifted slightly to the left.

my salt-slapped cheek chilled by your blistering brutality, a blow I once waited each patient minute 

to experience. Wishing and waiting,

a sweltering silence only tempted by this misery, 

you rained on my parade when I was in a tempest of torture.  

To breathe under your great wave was inconceivable. 

why? why do you enjoy this misery you infect? A spect, a spit, a drizzle of darkness dampening the day.

You muster, brew and boil. Then the cracking of the cradle follows. We all see.  A single drop drips down and the heavens fall.

I once liked the rain. Loved it even, if you can call it love. The cold, the damp, the dark, there is a strange beauty to it. 

Maybe as You know it will end.

I miss the rain.

 Sometimes. 

But today, as I think of this stormy set of sinking sentiments, a simple shining sliver of sun slips through. 

The warmth touches the tip of my nose.

I let her in. 

And I can breathe. 

I AM HAPPY TO BE AWAY FROM YOU. 

Away, safe and sound, from the brutal wind-rush of the seashore.

art by @allegrars_art

with reason so reduced not to raise revelation, such revelation so revered to renounce thou,

bow to thy conformity or join these souls singing such a simple song of salvation,

tis’ a damn-ed-nation you carved from cruelty caused by your goodness

for following in faith-sake founded in fiction is unfathomable

to blindly bite on beliefs bitter bargaining is but benign.

I muster to find a middle point at your frozen feet,

pattering down this new path passing by

and as i go, i beg thee join me

in Hell.

For Nesta and Norman

p

You suffered a sea-change.

p

Through the seascape of my youth I did see you lose your way. 

To empty harbours and unknown lands,

longing for your sinking ship to find a familial hand. 

p

What pearls you had encountered, 

swept away by this sinister storm, 

your great sails have aged and sagged, 

this once golden anchor rusted from this brutal attack. 

p

oh, i wished to save you, 

blow but one breath and lead you home to our beloved nation, 

but with a selfish swipe of my hand the tide rolls over all I was given. 

p

What if I suffer a sea-change? 

A sailor swimming alone with his ship, 

fishing for long gone memories of home. 

p

The map is but empty,

lines of black ink washed away by the salt of my tears,

streaming to a place unknown, 

where your temeraire is fighting on.

p

I hold this harbour in my heart you sea-stranger shall return home.