Women As Dragons

A swing, a click, a nick
Beheaded
De-friended
A dragon surely must be for the slaying ?
It wasn't your fault ;the course I'm taking
Ahead of your time
With that subdued smile
Subdued eyes
Your twisted stance
A pose of attack
Ahead of me by a country mile...

A softest smile of those dark eyes
Begins a dragons dance so wild
Mesmerised I stand, but I'm no fool
I belie my general air; The Fool
Battle scarred and weary am I
I safely stand behind the line
The line you know not that exists
The line I hold with iron fist


Our timeless battle erodes the seasons
Green spring
White winter
Warm autumns too.
My sword thats always hidden from you
Waiting for its final cue
Young dragons shimmer in Winters sun
Their beauty, many a mans undone

Inquisitively, finally you turn to face me
Natural attack mode comes in easy                                                                
Glittering coals of your dark eyed stare
New knowledge of all mans wants and cares                                                              
You've learnt the game
You learnt it early
Nothing more now can I do
But decide exactly why this battles due ?
This battle comes though much too late
It starts in jest
But ends in fate.



There comes a time in every womans life when she realises the power she has over all men /  2014

A New Front

Caught in the balance on misty heights
Unseen winds sway me slightly
Past views below terrify me
Once hidden by time
But now in sight
Laylah finds me unawares.

Stone cold denial
Just ignore me
A silent gaze
Obvious reeling
My pathetic aloofness
Sorry for my silence
But for a second time
And I will die !


Today something tried to return. Im not going back, though it is an eternal return... 2014

Penultimate

The waters of time came trickling by
A faded hue to the night Winter sky
Yellow stars, no white sparkle fly
Dark moonless night
The bedrocks now dry 
Crumbled dust
Blown away                                                                                                                         
False boredom demands
A new game to play.
                                                                                                                    
                                                                                                                           

What defines us changes constantly / 2014

The Beauty Circuit

Im tired of beauty
And after so long
The endless procession
The genes of the strong

Compulsory projections for all to enjoy
Pathetic distractions
An over used toy.
An ace in the pack ?
The ultimate ploy ?
More valued than wisdom
It comes yet by default
 A Womans best weapon
Is she now worth her salt ?

A new generation still plays this game
The image of beauty
A new on line game.
Truth be told this game is unfair
A road to misery
A grim road to " who dares "

This game never ends
Those pouts
Those poses
That must have shining hair...




A poem about the way lifes become / 2014

Im not happy with this ending however much I mess around with it. I shall sleep on it..

10 years later and its 2024 and im coming back to this forgotten poem and that final elusive line !!!

Moon Magic

Midday Summer sun
In midnight Winter sky
Moonlight hangs heavy over these hills tonight
Ethereal silver mist dissolving all that's mundane
A fairy tale landscapes defining this dale
Unseen things flitter seen barely from eye
Their unknown trajectory
From some other side

Rich velvet shadows float darkly, no sound
Childhood exuberance echoes around
An ordinary room conducts taps and those cracks
Sparkling with something that's trying to get back
To what and to where ?
Its deviations abound
Like rain on my window
A familiar sound.



 2014

Halloween

Bishop Beesley was carpet bombing a field of pumpkins. Jerry Cornelius could just make out his bulbous silhouette in the Lancaster Bombers cockpit. He watched from a rocky hillside bent double with laughter. The Bishop was over excited and over reacting again. As he regained his composure Jerry had to admire the Bishops style in combining a classic piece of war machinery with state of the art cluster bombs. Of course Beesley had no real ethical problems with All Hallows Eve, it had been the Popes recent visit that had triggered this display of dogma. An act based purely on instinct.
" God be praised " muttered the Bishop as his over weight mass attempted to exit the cockpit. Jerry offered him a hand. Tomorrow the bomber had to be returned to the Imperial War Museum. Pumpkins plastered the under carriage. This would be hard to explain. Beesley had hired the aircraft for less trivial missions in the past. Occasionally they had even strayed into Europe, or the remains of it at least. Working with the Church of Rome was often a surreal experience, " Bishop Cornelius " was a very real possibility mused Jerry...


I must have been in an exuberant mood that day... lol

A Shot In The Dark

"  So why have you suddenly started writing ?" sneered the Fat Buffoon. The Fat Buffoon could smell blood and Jerry knew it. He sensed his own soft underbelly exposed, and there was a lot more of it nowadays. Swiftly he reached for the bluntest tool in his box.
" For fame and fortune " he replied, with a weak smile.
The Fat Buffoon didn't do sarcasm. He probably didn't do irony or clichés either, so why use a sledgehammer to crack a nut ? thought Mr Cornelius ? Silence confirmed a dead hit. Writing was a lot less complicated than the assassination business for sure. Had he really being trying too hard to impress ? Normally he was a good judge given enough time, but a year had passed and he still couldn't decide. As Jerry walked away he caught a sneered comment about " butterflies floating down a garden path.." A pot shot at his poetry was all he needed justify the death blow...



Yes, I still remember who the " fat buffoon " was in real life  !  Ahem....

Will I write Again ?

So will I write again today ? All my writing I shall be posting on this blog was written about 3 years ago. Can I still write like that today ? Well, ive only posted my efforts after seeing another blogger doing the same and I guess it made me sit up and finally take action...
   Those were heady days back then, and the sudden bursts of inspiration often came in Autumn and often when the moon was showing, sometimes I even jumped out of bed in the early hours to capture an idea i'd had and get it down on paper. There is no doubting looking back I was in a Peak Experience state of mind and no mistake. In fact I was in that heightened state for several years and this fed my creative side. Of course this state couldn't last forever, thank goodness, in the end it would have ruined me. I shall never be in that state ever again as it was a right of passage to the esoteric path no less. I still bare the scars today and am having to learn how to live an everyday life whilst giving it the attention it now deserves.
    In many ways this blog is a better recording of a Peak Experience than my Golden Blog. This blog captures my mental change and the dizzy level of ideas I found popping into my head from where exactly I don't know. Some of then felt pre-written or as if I was re-writing them. Creativity is a funny thing. Ive no idea whether if it can be all re-booted again today ?