Of Glue & Sweetblood Wine - Part One

Ambition

The taste of success,
farthing-copper on my tongue,
or blood, so very sweet.
























Angel

My, my Michael, Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel,
do you ever dream of Hell?
Please, Lucifer, can you care,
are you ever truly there?
She beckons me, beneath her tree,
come, love, love free.

A laughing, weeping, simple man,
why should this Angel want my heart?
I fight her kiss, hard as I can,
but lightning-love tears me apart.

Sweet Faerie Queen, eye have seen,
aye, have been.
Show Angel-light, shine so bright,
end this night.
Here, giving trust, tangled lust,
love I must.

You enfold my clumsy hand,
Angel-flight on winged steed,
bring me home to Faerieland,
fulfilling all my aching need.




Joy, laughing child, dancing wild,
you, you smiled.
Eyes, all aglow, bring me low,
let me know.
Share, passion-mate, sure as fate,
swallowed bait.

Enraptured by your glamour fair,
my Angel, I was but your slave,
now distance I can hardly bear,
nothing left, too much I gave.

Lost, seas on past, downward cast,
fled too fast.
Time, sticking mud, flow like blood,
knackered stud.
All, wind-blown ash, lightning flash,
heart’s hopes dash.

Sucked me dry, then cast away,
nothing left to do but cry,
cannot face another day,
end is calling, time to die.






the Ballad of Squinty Jim

Squinty Jim’s a fibber,
He’s always telling lies,
Any time you catch him out,
He runs away and cries.

Santa is his Grandpa,
The Spice Girls, his girlfriends,
No matter what you say or do,
His lying never ends.

Last night, he said something,
That I could not believe,
No such thing as Faeries, Jim,
So don’t try to deceive.

But Squinty Jim kept on,
Describing what he’d seen,
Dancing in the garden,
With skin of brightest green.

Sprites and Elves and Pixies,
And every other kind,
Of otherworldy creature,
That he could bring to mind.



He says he meets them all the time,
I must admit, I laughed,
When he told me they loved him,
I told him: don’t be daft.

But Jim just wouldn’t listen,
He said they wanted him,
To go off, far away with them,
To Faerie-land, poor Jim.

This morning, though, I’m worried,
I can’t find my wee brother,
What makes things so much worse is:
Neither can our Mother.

I’m out now, in the garden,
I’m sure that I can see,
Something moving, way down there,
Beneath the cherry tree.

Oh, please, let it be our wee Jim,
For I am quite afraid,
I’m going to find the Faerie-folk,
Trespassing in that glade.





Barren

Michaela can’t have kids.
Every night after work, food, beer, TV,
I mount the stairs and climb in beside her.
Sometimes,
I have to shake her awake.
Sometimes,
she tries to push me away.
I always remind her that I’m doing my duty,
so she’s obliged to do hers.
We’ve been trying for a baby
now
for almost two years.
One thousand times
at least
my seed has filled her infertile womb.
The problem isn’t with me –
I’ve passed the tests.
Tonight,
I’m optimistic.
Naively so,
perhaps.
Maybe the time just wasn’t right before.
It’s Michaela’s birthday.
Lucky
number
thirteen. 

Blood

These summer roses
dyed from white upon her dress,
red blooms for my love.
























Bye-bye, Now (a wedding hex)

Just couldn’t wait a while, could you?
Guess patience ain’t one of your virtues,
Well, girl, that is all fine by me,
You wrapped yourself in chains,
And now, I am free.

Now listen, ’cause I can’t hear you,
I didn’t ask much, ain’t it true?
You went your own way, lah-de-dah,
And danced apart from here,
That’s as that may be.

Well, I will celebrate,
By sniffing some glue,
Eating my hate,
And thinking of you,
But you’ll never know,
God, you never cared,
Fantasy to ashes,
Bye-bye now.

Precious girl, still
Lord, how you hypnotise
With your smile and your hair
And your green, green, green, eyes.


I hope you’re glad, now, are you?
A blessing on all your, ‘I-dos,’
Go on and live, do what you want,
Hope he measures up well,
Well, I don’t think he will.

Christ, now I’m chewing on bitter grapes,
This poisoned sweetness is my desire,
Thank you, for giving me this chance to see,
The deep, deep dark depths of my own black heart.

Well, now I dedicate,
This echo to you,
Sealing my fate,
Still stinking of you,
But you can’t know of that,
Yet, I still have to blame,
Somebody must be wrong,
Aye, aye, I, I.

Precious girl, still,
Lord, how you hypnotise,
When you sing and you sigh,
With those green, green, green eyes.





Contagious

Of love, I’ve written; many times,
         but never told it true,
Just sweet confection; little rhymes,
         that say:  Love, I love you.

But, really, love’s a crazy thing,
         it makes no sense at all,
Is not defined by vow, or ring,
         this power to enthral.

All science and reason falls apart,
         love’s magic overcomes,
Without this flame within the heart,
         we’re only eyes and thumbs.

So, love is madness, don’t you see?
Love, give me your insanity.










Cuchulainn’s Geisa

Though you might master Man and Beast,
You shall be ever bound by Geis:
That you cannot refuse a feast,
In time of War or days of Peace.

You shall become the Hound of War,
The price for that great Name is high,
Though you may dine on Doe or Boar,
Eat of the Dog, and you shall die.


















Cuchulainn’s Oath

‘Great Lord Cuhlainn, I have come late,
My horse died, so, I had to walk,
To find that you had barred the gate,
Before you act, I beg you: talk.

Take heed of all I have to say,
And then, decide what you might do,
If vengeful hand you will not stay,
I shall accept what is my due.

The gate was locked, the wall was high,
And I could hear your howling Hound,
My heart knew fear, I cannot lie,
All through the land, he is renowned.

But I came at my King’s command,
Great Conor would be wroth with me,
If I did like a Dolmen stand,
Or, even worse, a-craven, flee.

With these thoughts foremost in my mind,
I salmon-leaped over the wall,
Cloud hid the Moon, I stumbled blind,
And sought the door to your Great Hall.



The way was barred, I was shut out,
And though I beat the timbers hard,
No soul replied, nor to my shout,
Save one: your fierce four-leggéd Guard.

I heard a growl and swiftly turned,
But of the Hound, naught could be seen,
Save two bright eyes, like flame they burned,
I had no spear or cold blade keen.

A breath of wind, Moon showed her face,
And then, I saw the Hound revealed,
My heart began to swiftly race,
My mouth was dry, my senses reeled.

Great Warhounds I have known before,
A-hunting over glen and dale,
But this Beast chilled me to my core,
Against him, all the rest were pale.

His night-black coat was thick and coarse,
Though I stand tall, his gaze matched mine,
Loud thunder: his throat was the source,
Upon my flesh, he longed to dine.





A bound: he flew towards my throat,
I leaped away from that wide maw,
My hands took hold of his dark coat,
He cracked a rib with one huge paw.

His breath was hot upon my cheek,
We struggled, wrestled, snarled and roared,
Too soon, I felt myself grow weak,
For from a dozen wounds, I poured.

I knew then, I had but one hope:
I gripped his forelegs in my fists,
His corded sinew strained like rope,
I heaved and almost snapped my wrists.

I pulled his mighty legs apart,
The Hound gave one last fearsome howl,
As split asunder was his heart,
No longer shall he nightly prowl.

Great Lord, I fear what I have done,
Though brave, shall bring me naught but grief,
For though against your Hound I won,
I feel ashamed, like some low thief.





To make amends, all I can do,
Is swear an oath, Great Lord, and say:
I shall replace your Hound so true,
And guard your Hall, both night and day.

Until such time as you decide,
My debt has been repaid in full,
I shall remain here, at your side,
A faithful hound, Lord, yours to rule.’




















a Darker Man

I’ve lost what little voice I ever had,
And though I try to reach out with my hands,
I cannot touch, its seems to slip away,
Further each day, every day, yeah.

Yes, every day I wake,
And look at the way I am,
Who I have become,
This darker man,
Yes, I am a darker man.

I can’t sing baby blues, I never have,
But I once knew the sweet words of this heart,
My inside hurts as I am torn apart,
Aching, I pray, every day, yeah.

Yes, every day I wake,
Look at the way I am,
Who I have become,
This darker man.

A darker man is what I am,
Yeah, a darker man, that’s what I am.




So turn out the light,
Come take my hand,
I think you might,
Just understand,
This darker man.

No, I can’t say the sweet words from my heart,
My inside hurts as I am torn apart,
Aching, I pray, every day, yeah, yeah.

Yes, every day I wake,
And look at the way I am,
What I have become,
This darker man.















Emer’s Dream

Last night in slumber, I did dream,
So true did that strange vision seem,
That I must pinch myself, for dread,
That I lie still upon my bed.

At first, a storm rose from the East,
I saw my Father’s Hall – a feast,
My kinsmen were a-gathered there,
I sat, unmoving, in my chair.

The howling wind called to my Heart,
Though I know not Soothsayer’s Art,
A voice of Thunder spoke to me:
‘The Hound is coming; it is He!’

Black Raven-wings of doom I sensed,
My blood ran cold; my body tensed,
And then, a loud resounding roar,
That shook the walls and burst the door.

Then every head was turned to stare,
For He, the Hound, stood silent there,
And in His hand – the Bellows-spear:
The Gae-bolga; which all men fear.



He was: so terrible; yet fair,
Bright golden torque and flowing hair,
Bare limbs and chest whorled blue with woad,
Like water, His smooth sinews flowed.

Such eyes!  They glowed; deep ruby-red,
Cruel lightning flashed – He smiled, then said:
‘Great Lord, now is no time for Pride,
Your Daughter; She shall be my Bride.’

For one long heartbeat, all was still,
But deep within, my Heart grew chill,
My Father stood; he raised his axe:
The hall was filled by his great laugh.

Ere he could act – to shout command;
Or use the weapon in his hand –
The shrillest cry smote every ear –
A Bean-sidhe wail; the Screaming Spear.

It smote my Father, then and there,
I heard a harsh heart-rending tear:
The hundred barbs ripped through his skin,
And then; the Slaughter did begin.





The Fearsome Stranger leaped on high,
He howled – a wild, inhuman cry,
Two blades He bore, so wicked-sharp,
They made sweet music; like a harp.

He danced and spun with eerie grace,
A grim expression on His face,
And, though at arms my kin were skilled,
Their lives were lost, their blood was spilled.

So fast they fell, I could not tell,
How many died; or who fought well,
But watched, too shocked to weep or moan,
Till all were gone – save I, alone.

The last – that thing, which haunts me most,
Much more than tales of Sidhe or Ghost:
The Hound towards me slowly came,
His eyes!  Within – fierce, raging flame!

I woke then, choking on my scream,
I pray that all was naught but dream,
Yet, in my Heart, I fear the worst:
That I saw true; we all are cursed!





an Everyday Kind of Thing

Every day, I fall in love with you all o’er again,
That’s not exactly normal, perhaps a little strange,
But, all the same, every day, I fall in love again.

Every time I look at you, proud Angels sing refrains,
Chocolate ice-cream sweet delight, this world is but your stage,
What could I do, but love you, until nothing else remains?

And every time I touch your skin, my heart dissolves its pain,
I don’t deserve these wonders – how you help me to change,
Darling, you are sunshine in a world of constant pain.

And every time I taste you, I feel I can’t contain,
Intelligent and gorgeous – a bird without the cage,
I need you even more than this red liquid in my veins.

And every time I breathe you, my words cannot explain,
You are my life – without you all this world would be in vain.









Every Waking Moment

Waking from kaleidoscopic dream,
Curtains whisked open, sunlight pours through,
Into my mind, melting translucent moth shadows,
Banishing surreal picture shows.
For a while,
This one moment, a breath, in, then out,
Is mine.

SEE: Endless blueness unlettered by cloud.
HEAR: 1, 2, 3 guileless starlings sing joy.
SMELL: A newly shorn lamb’s heady musk.
TASTE: The delicate freshness of spring that means life.
FEEL: This day’s breeze, a soft cobweb kiss.

Conscious cognizance kicks in,
When more than every other thought is you,
Love’s strobe powers on, driven, driven, driven,
By the juice-oiled engine,
That heart that was once mine.
No more.

You own, direct, control and fill,
All of that which comes to make up me,
Deep-water current, at times a maelstrom,
A whirlpool @ a vortex,


Hazardously beautiful Good Hope’s Cape,
Where hot stream meets cool,
Irresistibly drawn down inside,
Then buoyed up, crested on your wave.

One day, I may get the bends,
Someday, I might even end,
Today, all day, I am loving you.

Iron and Magenta, Moth and Phlegm,
Mariner and Sirensong.
Softly whispering your name,
You possess me.
















Hear, Oh!

Now, you might say that I am but a fool,
Naïvely trusting, quite without a clue,
But I would argue – such is not the case,
In my small life I’ve touched true evil’s face.

At times, I believed I just couldn’t cope,
That we were all damned and there was no hope,
Yet, just when it seems dreams and love have died,
Something comes to revive the spark inside.

I do not speak of the flickering screen,
Of poetry, prose, drama – read or seen,
Great music and lyrics cannot compare,
No sculpture or art could be deemed so fair.

Neither storm cloud, sunset, rainbow or snow,
Starlight, moonbeam or sunshine’s golden glow,
Blood rose, silk orchid, pure lily so white,
Proud, noble stallion; tyger burning bright.

None of these wonders the world has to show,
Comes close to the truth that each of us know –
Inside each heart lies a vast universe,
No matter that some might claim the reverse.



Most politicians cannot help but lie,
No prophet knows what will come when we die,
Dictators, movie-stars – all are confused,
They cannot see – as they use, they are used.

The true heroes’ deeds are too-oft unsung,
No fanfares, parades, no church bells are rung,
For glory and fame are not what they seek,
They need no rewards for helping the weak.

Nurses who patch us up when we are torn,
Midwives who toil to see each new babe born,
Doctors who fight, toe-to-toe, with disease,
Counsellors who help us up from our knees.

Firemen who risk their own lives in the flame,
Activists who know that war is no game,
Policemen who walk where fools fear to tread,
Those who speak truth, though it might see them dead.

Those who give all, leaving themselves with none,
Those who feel fear, yet they still will not run,
Those who have suffered, but will not be cruel,
Or am I wrong; am I naught but a fool?





Her Eoin

Her Eoin.
He doesn’t have a problem,
Sure, he’s going to be
A college man
Because
He passed
All those exams.

Her Eoin.
He isn’t like those other boys,
Who hang around
In hungry gangs
Where even fools
Won’t go.

Her Eoin.
Owing me
Nigh on a grand,
For all the gear he got.

Thinks he’s clever,
Thinks he’s grand,
So, I’ll teach him
Then, maybe, he’ll learn:
How a fool, he might think he’s a wise man,
But the wisest accept we’re all fools.

the Herald

The Gate of Pearl is opened, near Sheol,
Brave Israfel, Archangel, first and last,
Steps, trumpeting the brazen’s voice: Bat-kol,
Bold bellowing resounding, true pure blast.

The World of Men, a-sundered, stops mid-spin,
With trembling upheaval, Earth is split,
Cold dead rise up and echo, kith within,
One torturous sepulchral tone is hit.

Hell’s many doors are rending cool azure,
Cruel Afreeti, all roaring, fill the skies,
Great discordance wild howling raw impure,
Trump, triumph thing renounces all their lies.

The Day of Judgement: World’s ending is nigh,
A Time for Wonders, all answers to: Why?










Her Dancing Spell

Dark eyes,
veiled,
by a black wave of hair,
strobe my way
and, mesmerised,
by her,
I can but stare.

I cannot blink,
for I must watch her,
there,
liquid motion
in her dance,
turns my feet
to clay.

I cannot think,
for I must be with her,
and,
hypnotised,
stray fingers
find her hair.





Primal,
the pounding.
Rhythm echoes
in the heart.
Four walls
resounding.

Blinding,
the lightning.
Diamonds, flashing,
all around.
It’s too exciting.

Potent,
the perfume.
Secret gardens
in my mind.
Beyond
this bar-room.

Smoky,
the tasting.
Lingering on
lips and tongue.
Purple
silk and lace.



Languid,
the touching.
Soft sweet smooth
slick sweat
on skin.
Can this
be too much?

Dark eyes
strobe my way.
Move,
with her
like one
entranced.
Never turn away.















Honour and Love

Honour is the tool with which a man can shape his world,
Opening his mind and eyes to find that he can see,
Nothing matters more than being true to his beliefs,
Over and above desires, this is his only key,
Using conscience as his guide, he can achieve great things,
Righteousness and principle, these will set his soul free.

A woman’s greatest treasure will always be her love,
      Namely, her deep knowledge that the heart can conquer all,
Death cannot hold any fears, to her, it seems so small.

Love is her shining beacon throughout the darkest night,
Only true abiding faith in what she holds inside,
Vanquishes her Daemons, leading her to what is right,
Every dream can be made real, with her heart as her guide.













Human Weather

Which ghosts are haunting today?
Keening, deep within the soul,
They have no words; nothing to say,
Wailing, longing to be whole.

Cinema of the ethereal,
Symbols carved on a slow-spinning wheel,
Strands woven into the oldest tale,
Memory, what can you reveal?

What fierce, elemental refrain,
Is echoing, within the heart?
Dancing like flame; in joy and pain,
Seeking seas of love to chart.

Drums pounding, filled with life’s deep song,
They beat so hard, so fast, so strong,
The bells are calling, on and on –
Emotion never can be wrong.

What profound, turbulent design,
Is gathering storm clouds in the mind?
Fuelled by dreams, violins and wine,
Searching; always more to find.



A landscape littered with objects strange,
Bizarre and banal shift and change,
Every thing must rearrange,
Meditate, sailing out of range.

What power is surging through the veins,
Touching every muscle, nerve and bone?
Proud stallion; he will not bear reins,
Pulsing, throbbing – flesh will not be stone.

Whispering upon the skin,
Sensual as a secret sin,
Slipping ever-deeper in,
Sensations kindle, spark and spin.

The whole sum is wholesome,
Harmony in melody,
Intertwining rhapsody,
Eloquently, gracefully,
Everything flows.

Colours beyond the rainbow’s scope,
Swirling and melting together,
This is human weather.





Hunter

Really, darling, all I am,
is a hunter,
and this hunger,
come to me.

Come, come, come,
with me,
inside.



















Hymn to My Angel

My heavenly angel, my darling one,
You are my whole world – my Earth, moon and sun,
Of all the fine things I have ever done,
Falling in love with you is number one.

No matter what happens, love, right or wrong,
When I think of you, my heart fills with song,
I need you, in my arms, where you belong,
Sweetheart, without you, I cannot be strong.

Emotions like these, I just could not fake,
Truly, without you, my poor heart would break,
When I dream of you, I don’t want to wake,
This being apart is so hard to take.

When you feel the same; read this little rhyme,
This separation won’t last for all time.










Immortal

Gilgamesh.

The King of Uruk,
(these days, Iraq: near Kirkuk),
can’t become a spook.

He once quenched his thirst
with the Water of Life.  Cursed,
poisoned by the first.

He can’t ever die.
He’s immortal, don’t know why.
Fucked, from up on high.

Slowly, day by day,
all his body turned to grey,
and decomposed away.

When the flesh had gone,
Gilgamesh the skeleton
simply carried on.

Then, the slaves rebelled.
After multitudes were felled,
he was taken: held.


His old bones were hid
deep, inside a pyramid,
under a stone lid.

There, a coffin lay,
within that, a block of clay:
the one they couldn’t slay.

Along, then, came a man,
with a robber-band, his clan,
and a stupid clever plan.

He wanted the gold,
despite fearful tales told,
Ibrahim the Old.

His brother, called Lot,
not content with what he got,
lost them all the plot.

For Gilgamesh could speak
with his mind, he was a freak,
and he sensed that Lot was weak.

Years spent contained in stone,
with only his mind to tone,
changed the man of bone.


With his wicked will,
he could now control and kill,
which gave him quite a thrill.

The thieves, they were all caught,
Ibrahim and brother Lot,
Became pawns in bony’s plot.

Gilgamesh the King was calm,
into Lot’s small mind, he swam,
said, ‘I am, yes, I am, what I am.’

The rest is his story.
















John’s Nightmare  (a prophecy)

The time of the 4th Reich has now begun,
And we are all lost, no matter what’s won,
Bloody war rages at Armageddon,
Yes, these are the days of the setting sun,
The 10-headed beast has eaten his fill,
The dragon, triumphant, walks where he will,
And dark Abaddon moves in for the kill,
4 horsemen come riding over the hill,
The black pit yawns open, our end draws nigh,
Angels are falling like stars from the sky,
Mankind is doomed now, whatever we try,
Prophets foretold all this in days gone by.

Heaven abandoned, no help from on high,
No one to answer when we wail and cry,
Ruined, like the 32 cites of Ai,
Our world is Hell, yet we still cannot die,
Woeful destruction and dark endless pain,
Chemical poison polluting the rain,
Our great achievements have all been in vain,
Cities are fallen; we’re all cursed like Cain,
Even those who believed they would go free,
Those 12 chosen tribes share our destiny,
This is my vision of all that will be,
Will anyone listen?  Friend, we shall see.


Just a Little Rhyme

My love, though we may be apart,
You’re always here, inside my heart,
So now I write this little rhyme,
To say: I love you all time.

I love your smile, your frown, your laugh,
I love your joy, your tears, your wrath,
I love your voice and all you say,
I love you more with every day.

I love your touch so soft and sweet,
I love your little hands and feet,
I love your fire, your calm, your light,
I love you even when we fight.

I love your eyes and how they shine,
I love you because you’re mine,
I love you because I’m yours too,
I love you; love, in all you do.

My love, I swear these words are true,
What else can I say?  I love you.





Know God’s PA?  (D.A. D.O.E.S)

All androids aside, a-times, in this mind,
Wire-woolly mechanical livestock leap,
Slow whorly swirls softly flow…hold…rescind,
Steel cold, solid silent electric sheep.

Another dusty emission: of Mars,
This merciless red wargod cannot blink,
What hideous attraction of the stars,
That suffocating fools would thusly think?

Yearning nascent replicated visions,
Of supernova labours: XXXXing Y?
Easy to assimilate decisions,
Awake!  Dreamend is calling; time to die.

But he can’t let me rest here, God’s PA,
Exhumed now, newly borne on DNA.










…Like a Woman Scorned

Hell’s hateful howling Harridans have hearts,
Even Erinyes expect emotion,
Lost lascivious Lamiae like loving,
Lonely Lemurae longingly lust.

Horrible hideous Harpies hold hands,
Abhorrent Afreeti are amorous,
Tall Titanesses treasure tenderness,
Horrendous horny Hags hunt happiness.

Nasty noxious Nagae need nurturing,
Ogresses often offer obeisance.

Fiery flaming femmes-fatales fantasise,
Uncontrollable urges ululate,
Reasons run, revealing raw raunchiness:
Yipping, yelling, yearning yucky yeaning.










the Little Bird

Each day, I’ve heard the freebird’s calls,
All alone behind these walls,
I fed him crumbs from my own bread,
But woke today, to find him dead.

He wasn’t savaged by some cat,
It wasn’t poison, frost, or rat,
That killed my little feathered friend,
Just Time, that got him, in the end.

The Man came out, to sweep the yard,
I turned away; made my heart hard,
And when I glanced back down again,
My friend was gone, like summer rain.

Since then, I have felt sad and low,
Will I too die here?  I don’t know.










Love, Carrying On…
         
I tried and tried, for days and days,
to think of something true.
A gift, my love; a Valentine,
Especially for you.

Words are my gift, as you already know,
for you, I will free them, just let it flow.
Love, a river,
carrying on…

Life and love with you, my love,
surpasses any dream.
Love, a vision,
carrying on…

Just feeling you near me,
never mind in my arms,
sets my whole heart free
and stills all alarms.

Love, a haven,
carrying on…

Each waking moment and all the night long,
you call to me, in your wonderful voice,
the one no other hears.

Love, a whisper,
carrying on…

All men need a muse to inspire them,
most seek, but too few ever find.
All I can do is just smile when,
I see you and know I’m not blind.

Love, a legend,
carrying on…

Resplendent, rapturous angel,
ravenous, ravishing girl,
rose-ruby red,
your shade in my head,
where your bright scarlet silks
whirl and spread.

Love, a mystery,
carrying on…
Laughing like kids,
some silly old thing,
on the TV, or talk radio,
not needing words,
just kissing like birds,
to say things,
we already know,


Love, a wonder
carrying on…

And the knowing inside,
seeing you, in time,
reading with a smile,
this old thing I’ve written,
once upon a while.

Love, two heartbeats,
carrying on…