Hope

There is no beauty anywhere
No meaning
No purpose

Everything is ugly
or surreal or bizarre
or plain impossible

To hope is to deceive
to cheat;
To think there is more
is more foolishness

There is no beauty anywhere
No purpose
No meaning..

The moist moon

The moist damp moon
looks down on me;
The black starless night
sparkles in spite of its darkness;

And innumerable invisible stars shimmer
in the black tar on the grey road
unlit by the fake fluorescent lights of the city night;
The air hangs round me
like the sailor's albatross

I want to live by the lake,
to wake up to its placid waters
to fall asleep in its dark unrelenting
unforgiving turmoil

I want to fall asleep
to dream...

Lovers

Green green mountains
Streams that saunter, skip, and sing
Meadows full of flowers
and lovers
Dazzling, lovers of the night...

Of stars that shimmer in dark skies
Of dreams lighter than feathers
Of nights that last forever
Of promises never made, never kept...

What is this place
Dark wet smothering velvet
Black red crimson moon
Spectres rising from the water
and the smell of blood everywhere...

Midnight

Its midnight in the city
that never sleeps...
The cars that never stop
roaring past my
shuttered victorian window...
The music, no the noise
of a city that has forgotten
the pleasure of being...
Of late mornings and
early nights...
I havent heard a bird
a cricket, a brook
in months, no years...
And I yearn
with a longing that is
like an ache...

Undone dreams

Unsaid words
Unkept promises
Unarticulated desires
Unanswered prayers
Undone dreams
Unsung songs
Unuttered sighs
The unbearable fact of being...

The Hill

Have you heard
of that hill...
On which wild flowers
never bloom...
The hill with no trees
no waterfalls
no butterflies...
It stands blue
and desolate;
Alone in a sea of hills
Hills that are green
and moist and alive...
That blue hill
with no trees...
That is where I live...

Dreams...

Dreams that make life seem unreal
Dreams that you are utterly convinced are true
Dreams that make you wish,
that make you ache with longing...
Dreams that are made of
a hundred thousand colours...
Dreams that you have dreamt so many times
that you could never forget them...
Dreams that you can never remember in the sunlight
Dreams in which you fly...

Real, unreal dreams that
make you wonder whether life is really
all that real...

Sometimes

Sometimes when I
close my eyes
to see the darkness
that hides just beneath
my pale, red eyelids

Sometimes when I
stuff my fingers
into my ears to hear
the sounds of nothing

Sometimes when I
try to drown myself
in the soapy, lavender bath

I see the sunset in your eyes
I hear the tremor in your voice
I feel the flowers of your imagination on my skin...

Adam's fall

How do we know whether

Adam fell or jumped?

How do we know whether

Satan tempted Adam

or was tempted himself?

How do we know whether

the garden of eden,

was indeed better?