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Moon Phases (2023)


The seductive touches of waking night

Breach the onyx silk sky;

Through shadows a face floodlights

And reflects the centre of a ripened eye.


In the velvet sounds and dripping hues,

Two locked gazes turn to desire

Shined in sweat and drinker’s muse;

Gentle embraces spark to fire.


Nights of courtship and conversation

Cascade over months. Rushes of electricity

Make the lovers giddy with elation

And new-borns to poetic felicity.


And in the core of their passion’s heart

A new ocean horizon set to chart.


But even in time a full glass

Is bound to spill.

Red wine to waters still,

Hoping sobriety will bypass.


Words of gentle love turn crass;

Birdsongs mutate to high-pitched shrills

And affections abundant wane to nil.

Over moonlight dark clouds amass.


In the quarter between dismay,

Quiet resentment and ritual

The urge to throw it all away.


Weeks pass; eyes now gazes

With another. This dance habitual.

You are bound to a new phase.

Bridge to Babylon (2022)


To reach the gates of Babylon

First cross a bridge of fire and ice.

Endure nightfall until break of dawn.


A scalding step for each burning liaison;

The punishment must outweigh the price

To reach the gates of Babylon.


Anguish and deceit grow from womb, spawn

From rotten seed of each crafted vice.

Endure nightfall until break of dawn.


A kiss of thorned whip will keep you on.

Pain paved – a fee for your sacrifice

To reach the gates of Babylon.


You say that you have done no wrong.

Dealt the hand of Devil’s dice.

To reach the gates of Babylon

Endure nightfall until break of dawn.


Moonlight (2022)


Under the covert blanket of nature's womb

Two souls, bound flesh to flesh,

Encased in silk shroud of a lover's tomb;

Ensnared in the fibres of Scarlet mesh.

Fingers laced, padlocked in place.

Lips trespass each forbidden realm

and seal secrets, unwritten on a saintly face.

Inside tender hearts bloom and whelm. 

Magnetic tendons, stretched to size

Snake around necks and asphyxiate

The intoxicated spirits, and arise

the addiction which lies innate.

But as the sun is born in turn,

the lovers look away with spurn. 


(But most importantly)  (2019)


Tell me I breathe fire 

When I only blow smoke.  

Got to break through the words 

When one only chokes. 

Spit out bloody teeth. 

Reminisces of a tongue. 

Trying to find the power 

to say the things, I mean.   


I’ve always found it hard 

To pour out my heart, 

And not expect to  

break the banks; 

Or for rivers to thunder into seas. 

But you helped me find  

the oceans 

That calmed my soul to stillness. 


And when I could only fathom  


You lifted me to the surface. 

Shattered the rocks that kept me 



while I drifted against the foam 

I saw a reflection; 

The light of the sun 

In the cool of the stream. 

Mirrored in the curves 

Of your cheeks, 

And the stardust 

Of your bronze eyes. 


Tell me what it means 

When the sunlight trickles 

Down your face. 

How nothing else could be 

As promising as the  

Rain droplets that shimmer in 

The locks of your hair. 


And how the wind, when it blows 

Through your clothes, 

takes you so softly into  

the air and sky. 

I’d like to see the stars 

Be as beautiful as you. 

The only warming glow when  

the rest of the world 

Is consumed by darkness.  

The trees could try to be 

As strong; the flowers as sweet.  


The water to carry life 

Like you carry yours.  


Fire could never be  

as passionate  

and ignited as the flames 

in your veins and blood, 

as you conquer your dreams. 


Even if the aspects of the world: 

(The specks; the dust;  

the corners of the earth) 

mimicked your footsteps, 


they’d never match 

how you make my heart grow.  


how you gave me sanity 

In an insane world. 


blessed me with care 

and tenderness, 

In manners I thought 



There will never be  

enough words 

To thank you. 


I will give you the 


As you have gifted me 



(But most importantly) 


I will love you 



The Right To My Body (2019)


As I sit and wonder here
Who owns the right to my body.
The ability to touch and feel,
Grab or push or hold.
Who has the right to follow my body
Wherever it may carry me,
Who takes my space
As their own.
Who thinks they have the right
To take it is as their own.

Who has the right to my body.
The right to hold what isn’t theirs,
Pinch it in secrecy
And wear a mask
In the crowd where those cannot see,
Or do, and take no notice.
Freedom to act in malicious intent
And steal my safety
Because others have given right to my body.
Take their claws over my legs,
My thighs, my arms,
Move fingers passed the line
And snatch the right to my body.
Dig stares into my body
Like I am prey,
As they take stance as predators
And forget my heart
As they take right to my body.
Snicker and grimace,
Say words to taunt me,
Claim me,
Belittle me,
Take right to my body.


Who has right to take my body.
To see me as their doll,
Their plaything,
Their next accomplishment.
Sweet victory.
Who has right to my body,
The body which I have nurtured to grow.
I have healed.
I have comforted when cold,
When alone.
Who has the right to my body,
One I have painted in art and colours,
Journeyed with.
Started adventures and made triumphs.
Loved others. Held others in my arms when the weight of the world kept them on their knees.
Who has the right to my body
Which I have hurt unkindly;
Taken for granted,
Starved and burnt,
Yet it has forgiven me.
It knows how much I need it,
How much I truly love it
As it carries and protects me
And helps me to discover greatness.

Who has the right to my  body.
The body that has no owner.
That does not deserve to be taken,
But loved as it loves to,
And to live a life
Until it is joined with
The growing ground.



The Snake In The Grass (2018)


Splinters of green. Emerald Shards.

Silver-gold specs of sand.

The ground burned down by the Sun

Upon the drying land.


Low, so low to the earth and dust

Leaves like hands that hold the rain

and stalks and spindles twisting

To course the water-veins.


Entwined in weeds growing tall

A ribbon of scales slithering.

The bending of its back morphing

onto pastures forever-withering.


The pigments scarlet and coal

That coast the crust of the globe

So wicked in their beauty.

So daring to behold.


The skin appearing to shimmer

with a coat of silk-like slime

But so often is deceived

And misjudged in other eyes.


For the grounds that doth embrace

Know the sheath is not as such

But soft like velveteen-clouds

That caresses to the touch.


And the power of the creature

To be touching life and death,

And be born again exquisitely

But not take a different breath.

When the old is but outgrown.

Falls off like flakes of snow.

And reap the seeds of rebirth.

New flesh that shall be sewn.


The energy of this cycle

That turns and turns with vigour

And bestows green-envy in others

Unable to stitch grace in rigour.


This creature defined so lowly

And Machiavellian in its glide

Can shed the falseness of its back

And to its truth abide.


The God of Metempsychosis

Hiding within the strands of life.

On a throne drawn from stone

Rule with decay and rife.


In the spines of grass and lush.

The ground that drinks the daylight

A being that revives its heart

And its own story doth rewrites.


The world as it should follow

And lead by serpent reason

And turn and face the integrity

Of our own recounting seasons.

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