shoot your words
like a poisoned dart
pierce my heart
The Kyle
The hills of green are visible far and wide, although, down here forever is blind.
The sky is shy today, as he decides that we all need a decent dose of grey without rain.
Winds flow through the castle which once housed our family and our loving hearts.
The sky knows what my heart feels, but he’s always been good at knowing my heart.
I travelled far and wide to try and escape the pain sitting heavily upon my heart as I miss you, yet I cannot keep going forever.
The sky tells the rain to hold off, and the rain orders the sky not to interfere; the sky and the rain grumble like a married couple in love.
Walking along the Kyle, I know the time is near; how wonderful it will be, after over one hundred years of your moods, you and I will meet again.
As the rain begins to fall, it seems the rain won the argument; perhaps I will win with you too.
Waiting for You
The world isn’t meant for the weak, but am I that strong?
I see you in another land with a pink smile and shining eyes, yet is that you in there?
Sitting at home looking at the mould on the walls and feeling the cold chill that seeps through, I think of my place in society, my poverty.
Yet, when I look out the window, I see the Highlands calling. The streams and mountains call from somewhere ancient to tell me it will be alright.
As I look at the mirror black, I see a face I barely recognise staring back;
yet there’s familiarity in those eyes and those lips.
Undecided yet hopeful, I run outside and leg it towards the hills.
It’s not awful to run, but the sky is so beautiful and grey today.
I wonder when you’ll find me standing by a bin in some random street waiting to touch you again.
Relatable love
We’re so relatable;
just like a knife and a fork.
Tangled in Treason
You were always the kid pushing boundaries. At school, some said you were the “it” kid.
You started to change at fifteen; eccentric cool turned into conservative stoicism.
You receded into yourself, and I could not get in, although I tried; now you look through me, or not directly at me.
Where did you go?
I’ve asked myself this question so many times; each answer appears insufficient to me.
Then, we saw your face on the news one hot December morning; you got Tangled in Treason.
You had a beard, wore your hair long, and your eyes looked haunted.
Where did Matthew go?
You lost your uniqueness and that spark; you receded inside and then became something new.
Why did Matthew do that?
You had a vest strapped to your chest as you entered a town square. The explosion sent you to forever, or I know not where.
What will become of Matthew?
You killed yourself and a whole town square for them; cannon fodder for a lost cause.
Now, as the rain falls upon my face, I cry for you and your lost soul; it wasn’t worth all of that to die at fifteenth.
I see such a waste of humanity, and I remember so much horror when I think of you today.
The coming storm
It’s been too long for you and me, but we cannot touch each other for the sun is too hot, and our skin is too dry.
The humidity creeps higher and higher, yet there’s no relief in this hell. Nature wants her way.
I would tell you about my day, then you could do the same, yet we’re too spent to move.
Then the buzz begins. We are electric and wired to what’s coming from the atmosphere.
Birds in the sky fly away or chat madly in the trees; there are so many parrots, sparrows, and a few cockatoos and rosellas.
The cat meows nervously and begins purring loudly, rubbing against us, hoping for a lap or pats.
Outside, the wind picks up, the trees blow about, and the madness sets into our minds.
We’re wired and starting to feel increasingly weird when the lightning crashes.
Then the rain begins to pour hard. We start to smell the rain, and we feel the change.
Laying about listening to the rain, we begin to touch one another. Our skin is so wet now.
The Grumpy One
Listless and upset.
You sit clutching the remote control as if pressing the buttons will make things better.
He sits over there, horny and haggard from listening to your grumpy taunts.
You’re upset with yourself more than anyone else, but you take it out on him.
He wonders when you’ll come to realise those pork sausages are the culprit.
You’re plagued by atrabilious feelings, which only heightens your cloudy thinking.
He does something out of character and gives you a Stomach Ezzy with water.
You’re so shocked you drink it, even though you’d like to cry into the glass.
He sits by you and waits with his eyes closed, for he feels the shit inside of you.
You feel rotten and put the glass and the remote down, then paw his legs and feet.
He smiles and opens his eyes to say, “I see your mood’s improving little cat“.
You want to take the piss, but think better of it. All you can say is, “I’m sorry“.
He says, “Pretty one, that is enough…“
Woodland Call
Crown of Rose and Thorns adorn
her head for royalty is in her blood
She prepares for her wedding day
to the king of the woodland realms
Weaving a mysterious magic
within her cloth and bosom
waiting for the woodland call
to take her from this place
My Kryptonite
Oh, cake!
You are my kryptonite;
weakening my steady resolve.
Winter
I don’t dream of Summer,
I only dream of our Winter.
The wild wind of Winter moves,
The Wild moves into our bones.
You laugh at the trees and snow,
I laugh at the playful snow on my skin.
In this eccentric Winter, we laugh on,
Forgetting Spring will come too soon.
C & K 