What I Want

To lay once more amongst your dreams,
To share a bed, and dull the screams,
To fight the demons of the night,
To keep away those things that fright,
To wrap you in my holding arms,
To keep you free and safe from harm,
To warm you when the nights are cold,
To carry you through nightmares old,
To stay with you when darkness rules,
To never treat you mean or cruel,
To wake with you when sun is born,
To oft’ remind you what was sworn…

That’s what I want.

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Strange Fruit

What hangest there, ‘midst corpses cold?
Strange fruit ‘pon trees of bone, so old.
A taste of poisoned flesh, tho’ spoiled,
The nectar from within like oil.
Amongst the unnamed tombs, so bare,
Strange fruit, so pregnant hanging there.
Dark shadows cast, bone orchard limbs,
As fingers pointing out thy sins.
To tread amongst the ghostly trees,
Strange fruit is seen where once were leaves.
What rotting bodies roots do find?
That pry and search, the earth to grind.
Where bodies buried, crying done,
Strange fruit will ripe, despite the sun,
And when we come, and lay to rest,
What birds will fly to make their nest?
And so whilst moon does show its shine,
Strange fruit will blossom, over time.
Where dead do lay, for years and years,
I’ll water roots, with all my tears.

Say My Name

Say my name, as dusk arrives,
Fear not the coming dark,
I hold at bay, the dreams of night,
The hounds that roar and bark. 

Say my name, in moonlit room,
Be brave against the cold,
Let simple words protect you still,
From evil great and old. 

Say my name, at midnight’s toll,
Though hours flee and run,
And ‘fore too long you’ll be at peace,
You’ll greet the rising sun. 

Snapshot 5

Night driving again.
Headlights of approaching cars growing out of the dark like an onrushing double sun, disappearing behind and leaving an after image in the eye, the red glow of rear lights in the rear view mirror. Left alone once more, within the metal bubble of warmth, road noise, and isolation.

Journeys always seem to both take longer, and pass quicker. Why?
Is it the lack of perceivable landmarks, no road signs or passing white lines to reenforce the forward motion? Or is the way travelling at night messes with the circadian rhythm, confusing the mind and body with a combination of sleeping dark, and adrenaline inducing speed?

Driving past fields, imagining the peace of a moonlit walk, journeying to a destination in the same way as our ancestors, centuries before.
Catching sight of a lay-by as it whizzes past, the oft-thought of sentence that ghosts into the mind – “Imagine being stuck there now…”.

Familiar roads, and junctions, look different at night. When the roads are this quiet, some junctions look like the scene of an accident, where all the bodies have been removed, but the forensic lighting is still there, scanning for spilled blood, skid marks. Or they are like a dressed stage, set for actors to play their way across, before an audience that isn’t there.

Stiff neck. Tired eyes. Counting down the miles as they tick off the odometer, getting ever closer to home. No cars in the rear view mirror means a black, empty space behind, as though the road and all the world has been gathered in by the car’s rear wheels.

Finally coming upon the exit junction, leaving the main artery and filtering off into a smaller, less important one, like an air bubble in a bloodstream.

Smaller roads, slower roads. The mad, head-long rush slowing to a more gentle cruise through sleeping streets, to home.

We Evil Few

Thru damp and dark city bowels where missing children
Call and howl,
We chase the dream of one more score,
Not trusting fate to open doors;
A life of grime is ours to own where wicked deeds place
Kings on thrones,
The shining knife or blunted wood,
The tools that break the great and good;
No sun will see us evil men for darkness is our
One true friend,
It hides our acts of villainy,
Those things that even Gods don’t see;
For we are those you fear to meet down alleys black and
Dead end streets,
The cutthroats and the deadly few,
Who in the night may call on you;
So lock the windows bar the doors and softly tread
upon the floor,
We evil footpads are abroad,
The night is ours forever more.

Darkness

This started quite short, but then I wanted to try and turn it into a bit of a longer one. Not sure I’ve got all the imagery right, but I hope you like it.

Foul deeds occur
In darkened rooms where eyes
And ears are not allowed;
Hidden so from
Innocence and all that
Common men avow.

Where light denied
By shadowed walls will cause
The heart to fade and die;
Final thought of
Redemption sweet that life
In haste has soon gone by.

Remove thyself
From out the light for none
May save thy damaged soul;
Beneath the earth
In halls of dust forsook
By heavens angels all.

No more comfort
To be found for shadows
Now thy only cover;
The burning sun
Now turns it face away
As though a spurned lover.

And there within
This cell of night a man
Bent double cloaked in jet;
The glint of eyes
Of inner hell that speaks
To pain not tasted yet.

Call not for help
From passers by as you
Are long forsaken now;
Behold your fate
At gnarl-ed claw and so
To knee you make your bow.

No more the sun
Will dance on skin as you
Assume your place in hell;
In darkness deep
Where souls are lost you now
Forever are to dwell.

Whistle In The Dark

It’s been a while…

Do not whistle in the dark,
That’s when demons come and play.
To hunt you down
In shadows black,
To rise from hell
And drag you back,
To where the devils stay.

Do not whistle in the dark,
That’s when evil roams abroad.
To stab at heart
And tarnish soul,
To claim their prize
And charge a toll,
A price you can’t afford.

Do not whistle in the dark,
Calling forth a deathly blight.
The sun has gone
And shadows call,
Gath’ring imps and
Goblins all,
To gambol in the night.