Native

Where dark angles meet
a choking sky stiffly held
by planks of buildings

The cloud’s eyes open
rainbows landing in a lift
paring open walls

Standing still almost
first spring coat: the immaculate
Polished prism jet

Coiffure of feathers
beak perfect yellow smiling
In the smoky light

Fresh from dust toilet
he regards the oiled steaming
skinny black puddles

Adeptly balanced
on cracked cliffs of concrete rust
an urban nomad

Forbidden

Corrugated fields flow through buff dry plains
Gingerly-tufts of sheep harvest bitter moors
Smudged with gorse and shrinking dry walls

They took you from me; your sweet caresses
Pressed petals faded magenta hearts-folded
Love poems-stripped; held naked to the light

Grey glass, coldly unconcerned, slides past trees
Weeping-leaves: in greyscale-a stranger’s nails
Pick up the beat. A door closes-legs move

And when the dust had settled streaked across
my face; took us out at dawn and shot us;
Slowly hacking back the flesh stitching wounds

Even the moon’s blank stare-is an envelope
slipped over dusk. Darkness pools on milk-white
skin; a thousand eyes floating in darkness

I remember night, walking hand in hand
Only the grim tightrope of reality
flickered. Slithering, falling- like a web

I lift up my hair-to slip off the mask;
Shamefaced honed to the point of a needle;
Blistered with the cotton rain and melting

Children they said and shaking their heads
Told us it was not allowed. Like swearing
and staying out late. A cup of poison…

The sky is falling little by little
A dark pool of sky, a stream, an ocean
Of all the forbidden tears in the world

Strange Creatures

Don’t trust ‘em obviously-No
I don’t think you can bond with them
They’re unpredictable at best
At worst cold blooded killers

They can’t help it of course
It’s their instinct I suppose
No sense of smell at all
Blind as bats
And partially deaf

Easy pray yes
But don’t be tempted
The rest will come after you
Watch out for old-long-black nose
He’ll put you in a documentary

A good question
I don’t know exactly
But he followed mum for years
Trying to put her in one

The Sad tale of Benjamin Bloater

Benjamin Bloater was proud of his skill
Of trumpeting slyly and burping at will
Friends frowned as he frittered his gases away
Belching and blasting all night and all day
He tooted at teachers
Boffelled big boys
Puffelled at puppies
And relished rude noise
Relatives ranted and begged him to cease
‘Till raspberries rattled their ears and their teeth
Slyly he squandered his stifling steam
Till noses were pinched and visitors green
He pumped poppers at parties
Spoiled soups and stews
Exhaled and eructed
The foulest of fumes

For this boy, enough was never enough
Till the day he was left with only a puff

Extinguished and empty in wanton waste
Sadly he pondered his slowing of pace
He squashed and salivated
Worried and wined
Stuttered and shouted
But still not a sign

The tale gets sadder as he grew and grew
Crushed cracking and crowded his stomach was full
It swelled till it touched the walls and the floor
Creaking and crushing the windows and door

No escaping or easing
He came to the boil
And loudly exploded!
Shrank and recoiled

His mother said sadly “It’s what we predicted
A justice for all the pain he inflicted”
So here ends the tale of Benjamin’s skill
Of trumpeting slyly and burping at will.