Hearts of gold.

Gold watch what gold rots

sold guts, a rich construct

blind lectures to blind protectors

of the festered rot of a thickened plot

of an unexpected shock to awe their flock

an educated wolfs den beside the chickens pen

cascading eyes to a miniscule, bountiful prize

to bare witness to the shallow well paid fitness

of glamorous presenters with camera-shy adventures

with the wannabe famous, do anything not to be fameless

to headline press for the junkies to assess to give profit to the bereft.

"Oh boy, what a mess"

GOD: exit stage left.

Hollow night.

Water drops against glassed panes

precipitation, slow evaporation of names

of their hollow observation of our reign

the tidal planes of what looks the same

darkness keeps the true arrival unframed

for against the rain the whole world seems hazed

alien is the well known fame, a masterpiece turned plain

the causality of the moon lit stains and all those that came

for the knowledge of the night is deeply ingrained 

yet it makes us blind to what has already been claimed

a lunar eclipse of the life that remains, and all that can be gained.

Shrivelled fear.

Death was promised 

life was shrouded in mists

a mystery of all that is

makes it hard to resist

like children with candles making a wish

naïve to the fire, the burns and all the liars

closed eyes innocence of simplified ignorance

displayed in the ambitions of those held with significance

fighting fears of impotence rendering them insufficient

stimulated maintenance of the ambivalent polygamist

learnt fears of what will be missed 

a child's plaything in all its magnificence 

to their seeded version of grown omnipotence.

To the game I'll stay insolent

as a non-instrumentalist lyricist.

Home away.

I rose, a rose, no not on my road

just squashed bugs where I rode

ice cold, I froze life's home

in an ice cone to refresh my soul

and it stole, away, from my bones.

In death may we part.

There you are in the dark recesses of my mind

can't shake the danger signs, for dark edges shine

the insignificant lines of all that is mine

remembered only by time in this labyrinth run mine

in which I recline.

May death make me blind.