Sailing Across a Sea of Dreams


Sailing across a sea of dreams,

Where everything possible glitters and shimmers,

Upon violet waters where time seems to be still in constant dawning…


Tides swell and carry me forth,

I rouse in their rhythms with a daintiness that flatters,

Squinting unperturbed at that which is my heart’s eternal yearning…


My strings are pulled taunt,

The sails forcibly flapping as winds chime through my veins,

Mastered to attention I head unsighted with promise that in itself is rewarding…


I carve a path where fleets have sunk,

The froth of the waters splashed across my wrinkled bows,

I will see no reason or heed no warning while my passion is burning…


The brewing storm couldn’t even quell,

Douse my fires or completely obscure my path to her,

I’m lost on these perilous waters and yet still I feel no reason for worth turning…


Back to lands that have been scorched to a cinder,

Memories of slain hopes that now fertilise the roots of understanding,

There’s nothing there that is not dead weight to be thrown overboard in this process of unlearning…


I will never learn it seems,

Or be free of these dreams that keep me afloat,

So until I too sink I will always be seafaring with this love that I’m serving…



Where Have We Grown?

Where have we grown?

Expectant eyes ask, squinting into a fading blue horizon,

Watching dreams sail into nights of warm hearts, where hurting is quelled,

There, from the treetops of my youth they sprouted,

Leaving wet footprints in the pages of books, as they found me,

Grew with me, touched my shoulder like fairies in sky blue dresses,

Opening doors to the winds that change without warning,

Warning, don’t stay, they gave me these words,

That try hopelessly to describe how I feel without feelings,

Fearless like a defiant girl with pigtails and a slashing ruby smile,

Daring a chaotic world to calm down calmer still into the calmness,

Of her being, lapses in creativity take me back there,

An empty room brimming with blind lunatics,

Studying the therapies of colouring inner worlds, seeing inverted,

If only I knew then that seagulls glide with broken wings,

Ghosting each other like shadows in the heavens,

Cutting the perfect swath through roiling clouds,

Then perfect smiles would be forever imprinted,

Like the glint of an eye or throaty laughter,

Sending golden ripples through the first layer of my skin,

That Machiavellian veneer, a bloodied gate,

Guarded by sentinels with gilded axes,

Where did I go?

Hidden under the bridge to the land of The Most,

That place where ideals are married to hopes – that place

Just a stone throw further from what I ever wanted, greener still,

I do not admit what I know if I haven’t yet asked the right question,

Held charily onto this stir like it was an egg of a honey sucker,

And I had the hands of a shy clumsy giant, grasping without sight,

Tripping over my own airs just to pretend I am not alone,

Not a story without a storyteller or friend without foe,

Where I am from, they do not stare,

They do not eat what they cannot kill, only love what bleeds,

Drinking from it what gives joy to thirst,

Delight to hunger,

But how could she know?

I’ve prowled the perimeters of a desert brown surface,

With feline obsession that steels my resolve, a hunter with a kiss,

Those shoulders when bare give coolness to my brashness,

A chill up my spine, I slash away feverishly at the obscenity of it all,

I fall from the dizzy heights of her stature as I prey,

A head full of fear, like a head full of snakes,

Turning me to stone with one look of a War Goddess,

I crumble at her feet and eat my words…

Eyes of You

Close your eyes and think of you,

See what I would see if I had your wonder,

If I had the absolute intrigue to slow birds in flight,

I’d see a soaring lady with the gentle step of a tigress,

The swoosh in your movement like the glint in your eye,

Every time I miss another secret, miss another turn of your head,

As you look and look away but never fade into light or shade,

I try guessing what you see but fail every time with a smile,

The mystery of you is your pleasure to keep and free,

To release and feed, to respect and let be,

Like your rhythm,

Your deliberate rhythm,

Do you hear silent music made only for you?

Do you play soulful instruments inside my very mind?

Your irises dance to the moon in the depths of your face,

When you ply that youthful smile like a sweet blade to the heart,

Shattering the mirror so it rains hundreds of scattered pieces,

Memories and fantasies mingling to your beautiful sound,

Touching the ground in the wake of your footsteps,

A valley of the deepest brown curves,

With the softest dips,

The river licks,

And feeds into your being,

Drawing eternal strength from the you,

That faced and overcame and lived to tell no one,

With no need for recognition or any to bear false witness,

You see what I see when I watch in annealed serenity,

Like the oldest tree knowing in the spring of mid October,

Where you blow with the winds that rejoice in your creation,

Something so elementary it must be nature’s crowning,

The envy of the worlds when they eventually meet,

Personifying one woman,

Undeniably you…

Wilting Lilies

wilting lilies by the bath room window,

pale yellow light seeps through to kiss the sill,

is it enough to stop the dying from being dead?

enough to wet the cracks in the harsh soil?

a muffled buzzing somewhere inside,

something has not yet felt or noticed,

a mirror with no onlooker is exactly that,

a room inside a room besides itself,

look there through the hissing mist,

naked and revealed it must be truth,

towel on the floor hardly worth a mention,

under garments asunder like stepping stones,

welcoming even to an unseen stranger,

scum down the sink hole round it goes,

what could have been – forgotten,



Watching The Day

An egg yolk sun shuddering purple rises,

Pasting the immediate horizon sky viscous orange,

A paler grey blue covers the greater expanse,

Where the dark shapes of the early risers flap away,

Their squawking symphony a reminder of life’s plans,

Waking thoughts thrust aside the fugue of sleep,

The bones crackle as muscles yawn with rubbery tautness,

The light is upon us it cannot be but denied,

By squinting eyes that would not see to it bidden,

Dawn so incredibly fixed in its breaking ways,

Coming with such supremacy its glory in its savage rays,

Slicing swathes of warmth like the smiles of golden children,

Tickled and subdued into serenity like the reflecting dew drops,

Soon to be gone into the thin air that breathes,

Calling this day beckoning to me too,

Alive and well I walk into it…

The End

The End…

Came so suddenly like an Ice Age,

That froze screams bringing a deafness to still,

A vanishing of shadows as the light seemed to bend,

For a while it shone upon our heads as we tuned into Nice Days,

That were soon to be forgotten when madness came tearing for the kill…

Ripped from its pumping veins that Red Thing gave a faint scent,

That may have been the stirrer of that inner rage,

That silently simmered with its own will,

We didn’t seem to pretend,

We tried in ways,

Right until…

The End…

Seven Legs

 With these seven remaining legs, I scurry onwards into deep space, at a pace that doesn’t reason with the pain,

My hairy joints unoiled and sore, sing a song with a confused rhythm, this acute living, paying out full dividends,

Even here where far seems normal, where hurt no longer disturbs, an axis turns odds against the evens we had,

The landscape folds over until the stars kiss the Earth, and in scenes of forever I search, eyes search like probes,

Deep in orbit reflecting , inner ghosts with dragonfly wings, lagging time brings all of it back with ghoulish glory,

Innocent youth engulfed in flames, screaming elders crushed by trains of thoughts, caught in a dastardly web,

Not unlike mine, as grey as a solar system with a few missing stars, questions asked by those pests I laid with,

Just before I ate them, gravely battling my instincts to lure and prey, lure and prey, lure and prey on Virgins,

As they skitter and flutter about with the zeal of fools, oblivious to the chaos that echoes from the walls, calls,

From the sentient watchers, with their invisible hands, and incomprehensible plans that tinker with my trail,

A path I’m yet to tread…away from here… gone…to that same place where I lost my other leg…