Demon

Demon

"Creep home. Keep alone down alley cracks,
deep hungry tracks, bones hollowed slack,
where weeping clouds mourn bricked up back
streets. Funerals wait to attack. Wide

black sleepless eyes breathe whispered blinks.
Seeping bruises purple pinks.
The church tower sinks in a graveyard throne.
The last heir's breath. Keep on. There's

a thin arm. Open hand.
Rat rail fingers, money fanned.
A choked calm. Silence planned.
A too gentle man. Don't stop.

Keep strong! Walk on.
Eyes wrapped round the road home.
Keep going. Never drop.
Stop lonely hopes from growing.
Keep wing clipped feet from slowing
as neck hairs hook
the gloaming.

He has a thin arm. Palm flat.
Life lines like a road map.
Wants to soothe those aching heels.
He understands how this pain feels.

A careful grin on shadow's cheek
offers comfort. Here's a seat.
His eyes talk beneath speech.
Promising something sweet.

Keep strong!
Walk on.
Watch toes
point home.
When your lonely
hopes start burning,
cover your neck.
Resist
the gloaming.

A thin arm stretched forward
could pull a faltering one toward
a gorge of claws. When sores sting sharp
that voice plucks like a distant harp.

That melody can hook in ears,
a life choked memory reclears
of lidless love, not capped by fears.
A desperate smile appears

and with the hollow of tomorrow so far away,
the future can be forfeit for one happy today,
just one grain of colour in a desert of grey
and a curse of 'Come what may!'

This Demon, waiting for the meek,
will promise everything you seek.
Knows all the perfect words to speak.
Show him you're not weak!

Keep strong! Walk on.
Eyes wrapped round the road home.
Keep going. Never drop.
Stop lonely hopes from growing.

Keep strong! Walk on.
Eyes wrapped round the road home.
Keep going. Never drop.
Keep wing clipped feet from slowing.

Keep strong!
Walk on.
Watch toes
point home.
When your lonely
hopes start burning,
cover your neck.
Resist
the gloaming.

Stabilisers Taken 1987

Stabilisers Taken 1987

Boys love bikes.
I hate mine.
Stabilisers taken,
Mum and her cuddles inside as
clumsy Step Dad holds my saddle,
runs close. I pedal.
Don’t let go!

Down a back alley street, so far from my pillow,
handle bars jiggle under sweat wet palms.
Spokes growl grumble. Belly drum rumbles.
Feet cartwheel like bumbling clowns
on Big Top’s opening night.
Propelled by fright, I glance back to see him
laugh at me.
He’s let go.

I fumble. Teeter.
Clumsy me!
No safety net beneath trapeze.
He laughs

then I laugh too.
Ha!
I let go.
Woah!
Crack through air like ring master’s whip.
Phased.
Amazed.
Shot free of my cannon. Rocket and fly!
Tear through skies whose horizons had fallen
down the back of a hug.

Mum might be cooking.
I feast on speed.
My tummy, a circus.

Song

Song

We're bob sledding
down Dusty Springfield's beehive,
wind alive with drums and strings.

Ears whipped, spin to ground.

Racing pulses.
Mine wins!
This songbird unlocks a mind cage.
Magic flits out,
dips behind curtain rail.
Close the window before it gets out!

We dance in the kitchen.
Sing to mug of tea.