I am not afraid of death
It's the waiting that's killing me.

His hands are scarred,
Face is a mess,
Too long walking
Through the wilderness.
The bears are hungry
Wolves they howl,
The Levy's breaking
All will
Drowns.
Washed away by savage currents
Watching fallen suns go
Down.

It started in Dublin before I was born
Crossing the Irish Sea to weather a storm.
London called through the wind and rain
Big city lights and a country's flame.
To Manchester then, a city united
At least to outsiders.
But to those within it's somewhat
Divided.

Summers in France.
Dining in Provence
Time in Toulouse
And along the Loire.
But Paris! Paris has that
Je ne sais quoi
Fine wine, fine company
It's a fine philosophy.

A German exchange
in einer stadt namens
Bad Bentheim.
Exposed to a culture
And the work of Rammstein.
A few days in Berlin
A fantastic city with much
History within.

Gondolas in Vienna if only for a day
Sailing down the Danube
Water wants us on our way.
We stay for a while
Within the walls of Budapest,
My first shot of Absinthe
Puts my liver to the test.

No rest for the wicked
That wanderlust I long.
Settled for a while by the lights of
Hong Kong,
A place I felt for a while at peace
High in the Monastery of Lantau's peeks.
I went once and I went again.
When wizened crones speak of golden devils,
Stroking my blonde hair on the streets of
Shenzhen.

We're either scrambling for a place
Or playing the music

Oh it's the most horrible time of the year.
Long working hours, forced festive cheer.
Only made better by copious amounts of beer.
Oh it's the most horrible time of the year.

Merry Christmas to all you fine people on Hello Poetry

A sleeping satellite peeks
Over the shoulders of Orion
Late on a clear christmas eve.
Winking at the world below
The light reflects off passing clouds
A slice of silver flows.
Trickling into far cast shadows
Bathed in an incandescent glow.

The moon lays resplendent
The crowning jewel of the sky
Where many a tired traveller
Became lost within her eyes.
Disguising the fire of the sun
Basking in the pale half-light
Untill this night is done.
And
When the moon gives way
To the cold light of day.
The stars are kept at bay.
Hidden out of sight
Furious
At their chains that bind them to the night.

I hope that it rains on your wedding day
And that all of the clouds in your sky are Grey.

I hope that what you beg to borrow
Is bent double, broken in sorrow.

I hope that your face is forever blue
Strangled by terrors old and anew.

I hope the promises you speak
Turn to ashes on your tongue.
And that your days are spent in darkness
Exiled from the sun.

This isn't strictly speaking true.
What we loved once we shall love forever too.
Hatred is a passing wind across the sea
What ever river you sail
I hope that you sail at peace

Every gift that I have been given
Shall be lain down upon the road
That leads to you.
An offering of sight,
Eyes left in the dust beside the path.
A sacrifice of silence,
Tongue nailed to the frame of your door.
A pennance to hear,
Ears scattered among the scrubland
Walking unguided into the abyss
Nothing left to miss but fear.

The stage is large and daunting
a warning basking under orange lights.
the actor is thrown into the scene
somewhere from off of stage right.
Shrinking from the glare to the night
Transfixed by sight, the first time it's seen.
He has the strangest urge that this is all a Dream.
Wishful thinking
Im afraid.
The cameras were always rolling, the final credits have been made.

The crowd sit in near silence.

"Is this a part of the show?"


"I think they're building suspense!"












Nothing.

You're never at your worst
Till you're riding in a hearse
First place in a funeral procession.
In the depths of a recession
Death notes write confessions
Of the obsessions of the heart.

This is Britain
A land of contradiction
United by a Kingdom
Divided by benediction.
There is friction
And there were rivers of blood.
Where lions and tigers and dragons
Would stop and drink, toast to the flood.
All the waters of the Atlantic
Couldn't wash these shores clean
A damming testament of conquest
Atlantis was a dream,
Built on wooden boats
Cast in irons with an empires hopes.
Though the sins of the father are great
The children walk with a sombre gait
Fields of roses
Both
White and Red
Blossom on the hallowed ground of the Dead.
Roman laws and Norman Lords
Drowned out a Celtic cry
A longship silhouetted
Against a bleak obsidian sky.
The hunted become haunted by the ghosts of yore.
Pagan druids scythe mistletoe
As Haleys comet they saw
Around circles of stone for now and Evermore

There is a pressure on my shoulders,
Behind my eyes and in my bones.
A force beyond my control.
As helpless as a stone
Though in the wind I sway.
Does it hold us back?
Or
Keep us from flying away?

Pretentious.

They were the sons of silver,
Softly treading an angels web.
The last ******* of the ghost
Of winter living forever
Or so it was said.

The players of fools,
Though played from afar.
Distant and watchful
Removed from the heart.

Quick you sons of silver,
On you mercury child!
Your heart may be cold
As metal, numb against
The wilds.
Creaking in the tempest
That cries aloud and moans,
Remember you're never alone.

For they were the daughters of diamond,
Cut in the sandstorm of a bedouin desert.
A million years in the making
Forged in the torture of pressure.
Each impeccable, a priceless treasure.
But every diamond starts its life as coal.
The darkest of hearts made from the death of Old.

Staying up late, so late it's early
Then dreaming long and far.
"Come on, get up you're missing the sun!"
"Ah! But I see so much more of the stars!"

There is a Demon in the street.
I see it crawl from the gutter
Torn shirt, bloodied knees,
A bloodied forehead too.
Now stumbles to a streetlight
A mournful, wretched view.
Its skin is pale of a borderline
Transparent hue.
Storming eyes of blue
Burn to a manic purpose.
A purpose it wished it knew.
But the mind is a master magician
Showing us the world we want to see.
As the Demon reared its head it gazed at its own reflection
Then
  Realized,

  That it was me.

And all I can think of is waffles

We worried so much about sticking our head above the parapet,
We forgot the stagnant water underfoot.
We forgot the stages of stalemate
The terror of trench foot.

An eclipse at the end of the world,
Waterfalls unto the unknown,
Navigate the secrets,
Nautical bold.
Here be dragons, or so we're told.
Well then let us burn,
Charred soul.
Not all that shines is gold.
Hold close the rigging
Friction scars our hands once more.
Voyage to unknown lands
Our future lies in the sand.
Both fine yet blown off course.

One more chalice of amber
Encrusted with hopes and dreams.
One more sip from the cup of life
To ground what we believe.

One more breath of neon vapor
That lifts us from our knees,
Frees the wrists of shackles
And clears the way to see.

Repeat,

Ad nauseam,

Until the truth is found.
In the depths of depravity
Satori abounds.
A glimpse of nirvana
And all that was lost is found.

For now,

But as the amber nectar turns bitter
The smoke is powdered on our lungs.
The vapor has all gone while
We hiss our words in tongues.
But in the morning when all is said and done
You awake to true satori,
The road to understanding has only just begun.