Mother Nature (2021)
By mountainous feet sit basins low;
caves carved in ankles stone.
Mother Nature charms life to grow.
From thigh to skin waters flow,
setting liquid-glass to idyllic tone.
Beauty shimmers in her mellow glow.
Hip and waist sway garden of aloe
in crisp winds so softly blown.
Mother Nature charms life to grow.
Two formerly shapes cast a shadow
over emerald-cliffs of her breastbone.
Beauty shimmers in her mellow glow.
On her head, falling to and fro,
vines and flowers every colour roam.
Mother Nature charms life to grow.
Her eyes as wide as doe
look upon her worldly throne.
Mother Nature charms life to grow.
Beauty shimmers in her mellow glow.
Mother Death (2021)
In pools of lava stand hooved claws
cracking with shards of molten rock.
That beast of beauty closer draws.
​
Over every limb hellfire roars,
moving in time with eternal clock.
A devious smirk on her sharpened jaws.
In her stomach, a hunger gnaws;
for your sins, she will stalk.
That beast of beauty closer draws.
Her ice-cold stare never thaws,
hypnotising all to formidable shock.
A devious smirk on her sharpened jaws.
She serves to feast on all your flaws
and on your pain of death doth mock.
That beast of beauty closer draws.
For your fears, she is the cause
and to her Hell, the dead will flock.
That beast of beauty closer draws.
A devious smirk on her sharpened jaws.
Ballad of a Sage (2021)
Upon this crowded page I write;
Words skin deep. Ink will bleed.
Capillaries to calligraphy; I cite
My tissues and bone to my creed.
Scratched into flesh I indite
The laws of my fatal breed.
Enrich my body with tip of quill
Till all the world doth heed.
I learnt of life past the night;
Seen it all for all my greed.
Fed truth through my sight;
To you, my wisdom, I concede.
Cover to cover; left to right.
O anatomy I pray you read.
Embalm my being in riches gold;
Each limb forever your screed.
There is no guile; no sleight;
For falsehoods I have no need.
I gift to you with honest might
Each idiom that I exceed.
For this penned soul I contrite
My rotting flesh as it recede.
In death each letter erased,
Until its meaning doth mislead.
Bring inscribed body to a height
Where all can study my final deed.
Prove my skin, which once was slight,
Shall set the universe to be freed.
Once I lay beneath burial site
Ink and skin will become a seed;
Forged to grow with plentiful taste
Shall break my body for all to feed.
Namesake (2021)
Dainty flecks of snow
Fragrant vines that stretch the day
Blossom my namesake.
Proclaim (2019)
I am not human
with eyes that can see
but I know what is coming.
I am not human
with ears that can hear
but I know when the music ceases to play.
I am not human
with a mouth to speak
but I have many words to say
and many voices to feed.
I have no hands
to touch,
to comfort.
No fingers to lace in fingers.
Just arm to chest
to secure my breast
and guard my heart from pain.
No feet to stand upon,
no toes to clench
but knees to lean on
and legs to hold in vain.
Puppet (2018)
When I was your puppet, plaything,
my strings short and tangled
would hold me down.
Pull me to the ground,
weighted and heavy,
dog-tired,
and blue.
And by those thin cords
you would twist and contort
my limbs
until they danced to your tune,
for that make-believe,
miniature marionette show.
I danced and danced,
twirled and pranced,
whirled and spun,
swayed, skipped, jumped and leaped
until my little dainty feet would bleed.
But you could not see
that this quaint pink frock
was not for me.
Nor the sailor suit,
bright and blue
like the roaring sea.
But I would wear the costumes,
gallop the stage to please you.
Bow when the audience applauded,
just to amuse you.
When I was too tired,
too weak to dance the charade,
you’d pluck me up by
my fragile strings white
and chuck me aside.
“You are not like my other puppets,
so pink, so blue, so bright".
“You are not good enough”, you’d say.
“You're just not right.”
And I would cry.
Until one night,
battered and broken,
I caught a glimpse
of my reflection.
Saw the worn-out strings,
knotted,
grey,
and not part of me.
And I cut the strings,
hand to arm,
leg to feet,
head to heart.
But did not fall apart;
instead grew taller and prouder.
Thriving; rising from the ashes,
sprouting, budding, blossoming
like a sycamore tree from the soil,
a grand oak from the dirt.
I was your puppet, plaything
with tangled strings to hold.
But you cannot pull my roots out;
they are strong, beautiful, and bold.
The Buffalo and The Fly (2018)
One day on the dirt and grass
A buffalo came to ride.
It wore its back,
Crowned its chest
And on legs carved from boulders,
It came in stride.
When it breathed like chimney tops
Grey smoke came to rise
And from its lungs a storm did brew,
With each beat, a thunder strike.
On its snout, a creature small resigned.
As dust to sun and with wings of glass
of the insect; fly, that could not climb.
Did not soar but only crawled.
You told me you were the buffalo and I,
the fly. Too fragile, too insignificant.
Could not move without the marvellous beast.
Another day past, in the suns of Spain,
In the dome of sand and sweat
Spectators swarmed to watch in awe
As the golden earth spilled red.
A bull with horns that bent like rivers,
Strong enough to break their banks
would watch as man
With shoulders puffed out like birds,
Tricked them into their own slaughter
With treacherous cloth
That waved them to their death.
You said I was the bull
That with shoulders bold and brass
Was foolish enough to chase lies man had said
And follow sport to sacrifice.
Again, tomorrow came.
This time I was the mouse
That followed greed;
my dairy prize,
To the jaws of your trap
Where my neck was snapped and bones splintered
Because I bit off more than I could chew.
​
When I asked for support
You told me I was incapable; weak.
When you drove me to anger
You told me I was unstable; weak.
Because I strive for better
You told me I was greedy; weak
​
I am the fly.
I can be proud like the buffalo
But can ask for help to fix myself;
Repair my wings so I can glide
Across the great blue again.
I am the bull.
I am brave, I am strong
And aware of my temper
But will not let others abuse it to hurt me.
I am the mouse.
I may be small. I may not look like much.
But I aim for success.
I aim to be a better me
And will not be trapped by those that underestimate
My capacity for greatness.
Rainbow (2017)
​
In all the colours of the rainbow, I have chosen here.
For years to come, it is you who longs to dance beneath the sun. Or upon it, if you can reach; way above the skies and stars that guard over in your sleep.
For heaven knows a door is half-closed to those who wither, small and unkind in a treacherous state of mind.
Those who ponder and wonder in delight have no fear, or torture, within the light.
But those who scatter their hearts in darkness have an opening to soulless, lifeless reigns within the stature of their own existence.
Come, heavily and breathe. Where no mortal has walked before, you shall aspire to dance amongst the shadows.
Laugh at death, sorrow and unfeeling motions of pain.
Or you could rise among the ashes and spurt out in sparks of fire; burn and dazzle. Furnaces of passion and flight.
It is you who can forge and create a dream, and only you who can achieve it.
Don't wait for the storm to pass; take your thunder and bleed it.