kissaled

Forgiving eyes.

Hard and black his hands are grasping,

A throat now bound and bruised no air,

Pushing inward with force no direction,

An outside look of empathy all fair.

Rubbing and tired against flesh now pink,

Blood rising to cool and heated skin,

Raw and imbalanced thighs for standing,

A frail body once plump now thin.

RRelease and pity flow as one,

the eyes lock in fear and near an end,

Away and falling deep and hard,

a look of sorrow from a fearful husband.

An innocent mind does hold a loving heart,

A smile that brakes the coldest water,

A soul so pure it mirrors a reflection,

A will so strong as not to falter.

A short and lonely life he led,

A break as sharp as steal to fare,

A cross to stand as heavy as christ,

A pain at end to hard to bare.

A rest now lessened with heaven,

A nightmare ended for him at last,

A world left questioning and shamed,

A trip to god came priced and fast.

A White Light.

A shallow grave uncovered,

A mangled body of blood,

A bone twisted and torn,

A life washed away in the flood.

An eye mirrored in torture,

A grip tightened in foul play,

A mind innocent now strained,

A face shoved in the clay.

A vein severed by blade,

A place cursed and forgotten,

With thoughts it did rotten.

The story now has an end,

Stop digging he just might,

The soul has bounced forward,

Towards a shiny white light.

Foolish.

The moon rides high,

The grass lies low,

Across the sky,

The sound not slow,

An owl does hoot,

A witch does cackle,

A spell has broken,

A man did rattle,

Foolish are you,

For listen it well,

Your life did fall,

His life he sells.

To my dear Patrick,

It has been nearly 12 months to the day since I last heard from you; my heart swells at the thought of you not responding to me. What tortures you must have to endure every time you see that white sickle envelope arriving on the doormat. I wonder do you have to engage the letter like a solider undercover, having to hide it and if discovered the stories you spin to cover the content. Does your heart fill with love and dread all at the same time as mine does. Of course, I also have to look on the realistic side of life now, time does not allow for dreams anymore, not like it used to when we first were entangled in each other’s hearts, mind and well let’s face it bodies. Do you remember when we first met Patrick, do you?

A crisp Autumn day in southern Ireland, I was shivering walking from the church after yet another long mass, Sunday mornings always had a certain awe of mystery for me, especially at this time of year, a huge grey building that towered over even the tallest of men, my mother and I walking up those few steps, and even though it was just six of seven steps my Mothers plump rose cheeks filled with rouge and she puffed up to get inside not to miss her seat, as if that particular seat was assigned to her, I always found that hilarious. After Father Cormac finally said Go in peace I knew the hike home of a tiny hill for me and a mountain for Mother awaited, but first a trip to the local shop, Furlongs, surely my Father had left instructions for fags and tea to be got, where ever my Mother was supposed to magically find money is beyond me, however off we set down those holy blasted steps and there you were looking up at me, grinning as if to taunt me for my good nature of helping my Mother. A Ginger head of hair that in a small village like our’s branded you a tinker or a certain family, however you were neither. Do you remember what you first said to me, “take your eyes of her for a second and she’ll role away”, I thought that you were callus and rude but the most beautiful person I had ever seen, freckles on your nose to the wrinkle under your lip, I thought you were magic envisioned in human flesh, magical, purely magical. A wink and a glance down my clothing right to my shoe wear and you turned and ran to your Father’s side, I looked ahead of the road walking slightly behind my Mother for fear she would notice my almost yearend for this new presence within me, I looked over my shoulder and there you were looking on, you smiled again and winked, I turned sharply back around, looked to the ground with almost embarrassed mint, although my tender 14 year old cheeks were stained red with the cold of the morning, I do believe that was the first time I had blushed due to you and only you. Walking briskly on to catch my Mother who in fairness had made quite a long way off I came to the cross road to the shop which we were destined, mother asked what was holding on to me this morning, never had she seen a church hold a grip to me of a Sunday morning, I said nothing, just nodded and smiled at a powerful woman I admired, you drove smartly passed in the backseat, you father William waving on to show an Irish kindness as all men at the time did, you looked and me and again that toothy grin, you waved goodbye, I blushed again catching myself and turning from your view, then the back of the car, I looked on in almost giddiness, Mother barked to hurry up, as my dear Father waited for what the usual was to be serve to him on a Sunday morning, I thought how nicely to start a morning, hearty gospel about the Parting of the river and praise for our maker followed by a childes crush born a new, oh the priest wouldn’t approve, I walked on smiling delighted for what awaited for me, for the rest of that day., and the days to come.

Chapter 1.

“THOMAS”, “THOMAS”, “GET UP IT’S TIME FOR SCHOOL!!!!!!”. I blinked open into a ragged picture of sleep and a white ceiling, god I hated Monday mornings, another day ahead of school, first year was just hell, especially in a country secondary school and the common wailings of my mother every morning did nothing to brighten my day, the usual tasks began, turned the radio on, spice girls wannabe, kind of cool I thought and then straight out the window I peered to see if he was waiting yet, but no, unlike him to be late, I always was but he was punctual I envied that about him, throwing on a tired uniform I took to the stairs into the kitchen, Dad sitting in the chair drinking tea and mom at the cooker, “Gota Go”, “hey are you gona eat something”, “nah, get something on the way”, “Cya later then”, not exactly the great family mornings you see on those American TV shows but it was home to me. Running down the yard of our three bedroom council house he still wasn’t there, I felt a little annoyed he hadn’t mentioned that he was taking the day off or anything, the turning I seen him running down the road towards me, half dressed, bag dragging the ground

Forgiving eyes.

Hard and black his hands are grasping,

A throat now bound and bruised no air,

Pushing inward with force no direction,

An outside look of empathy all fair.

Rubbing and tired against flesh now pink,

Blood rising to cool and heated skin,

Raw and imbalanced thighs for standing,

A frail body once plump now thin.

Release and pity flow as one,

the eyes lock in fear and near an end,

Away and falling deep and hard,

a look of sorrow from a fearful husband.

Cats Eye’s

Rip thy flesh crush thy bones,

Cast thy will lies I know,

Sick her mind innocent her kill,

Razors her teeth eyes her will,

Dead he isn’t forgotten he is,

Spirit has broken yes his life a plea.

Withering Bloom.

His eyes shining like rain on a mountain top,

His soul great with awe and wonder,

His face graceful and charming,

His look of thinking and ponder.

His life full with art and accomplishment,

His mind running with those around him,

His smile calming and sleek,

His light once shining now dim.

His spirit now faded alas nearly gone,

His aura taken from this world unknown to one,

His feeling's withered like the bloom of a rose,

Heath we love you, even though now you are gone.

They/she.

Why the air we breathe?

Why the flesh we eat?

Why the blood we drink?

Freedom is yet a soul to rest,

Eternal greatness or eternal falseness,

We beg to differ with liberties,

Yet our religion is not dead,

Realise the bells that hang above,

A child’s death is called nothing,

Yet a soul is sacred,

Befall our kingdom cannot become our dream,

But our dream is always our kingdom,

Sleep now the children of mother earth,

But be warned,

The guardians at the watch towers,

Become no mystery when life is near its end.

Confusion.

Situations unclear,

The mind in confusion,

Lost in a thought,

Of ample repulsions,

Clever wit from an elder,

Wisdom and honour,

The path is unearthing,

Situation is dire,

It all will come clear,

Focus and listen,

Your destiny is mapped,

You’ll grow and glisten.

A White Light.

A shallow grave uncovered,

A mangled body of blood,

A bone twisted and torn,

A life washed away in the flood.

An eye mirrored in torture,

A grip tightened in foul play,

A mind innocent now strained,

A face shoved in the clay.

A vein severed by blade,

A place cursed and forgotten,

With thoughts it did rotten.

The story now has an end,

Stop digging he just might,

The soul has bounced forward,

Towards a shiny white light.

Fire.

A blade of wind hit my cheek,

A deepened violet my skin did turn,

An orange flame my heart did seek,

But hell released that day to burn.

A brown and green rustle up high,

A white knuckle was scraped,

A pulsing red through a vein,

A woollen head was now capped.

A tarred flooded jungle,

A splash of soles did plop,

A soaked man stood still,

Not one has a solid mop.

A revelation in droves,

A hardened soul now beat,

A heart broken by season,

For want of a glowing hearth.

Innocent.

Behind a silver door does speak,

An owl of burning ember beaks,

A soft touch feather touches thy sight,

Does fly up high alone at night.

The howling wolf you hear his call,

Blood soaked teeth he does fall,

Evil eyes he stops and stares,

Growling first to be oh so far.

Cracking house on rock tops,

Empty sirens that never stop,

Boneless body that slides and flops,

Hear the innocent heart go pop.

Forgiving eyes.

Hard and black his hands are grasping,

A throat now bound and bruised no air,

Pushing inward with force no direction,

An outside look of emapathy all fair.

Rubbing and tired against flesh now pink,

Blood rising to cool and heated skin,

Raw and imbalanced thighs for standing,

A frail body once plump now thin.

Release and pity flow as one,

The eyes lock in fear and near an end,

Away and falling deep and hard,

A look of sorrow from a fearful husband.

Dangerous Lies.

A society unforgiving,

A family unwilling,

Your friends untrue,

Peers just cannot do,

Parents you have shamed,

A heart you cannot tame,

A secret you cannot keep,

An answer you shall seek,

A pain you cannot bare,

A soul that’s just not there,

Words you cannot say,

That’s called being gay.

1981.

As black flags ruffled,

And mothers prayed,

One hundred candles were lit,

With his life he paid,

Don’t let another one die,

My son is not a criminal,

A prisoner of war,

Their life’s all terminal,

Two countries of ownership,

Both religions unstable,

Hundreds have died now,

The people incapable,

Their walls full of blood,

Slop out those dirt pans,

The prison couldn’t care less,

God bless sweet Bobby Sands.

Does death come to all, for all,

Do we want it or even invite it,

Do troubles seek forgiveness within us,

Does it kill ever slowlybit by bit.

A science can cure most we say,

A man in white will heal a cut,

A woman with pity will soothe your soul,

A reason will come forth, through rut.

Repeat in angst for a priest in stone,

Rouse as you might for truth will out,

Rate a mojour God in all thy fright,

Rage kept in yet hidden with pout.

Eager minds play tricks with lies,

Even solice comes to those who wait,

Evil spirits taunttowards us all,

Ever ready are all us humans to take the bait.

Decision.

A break through in memory,

A time lost forever,

A mind drawing blank,

Hands clasped together,

Prayer to the lord,

Weakened by fear,

Salvation is coming,

Disguised as a peer,

Alone on his decision,

Peeved by his judges,

Fallen off balance,

His partner he nudges,

The decision is made,

A mind put to rest,

The other cheek is now turned,

The bird in its nest.

Fire.

A blade of wind hit my cheek,

A deepened violet my skin did turn,

An orange flame my heart did seek,

But hell released that day to burn.

A brown and green rustle up high,

A white knuckle was scraped,

A pulsing red through a vein,

A woollen head was now capped.

A tarred flooded jungle,

A splash of soles did plop,

A soaked man stood still,

Not one has a solid mop.

A revelation in droves,

A hardened soul now beat,

A heart broken by season,

For want of a glowing hearth.

Was it?

A child was born today,

Piercing black pearl drop eyes,

The mother knew the father,

As told by the angel,

Do you condemn the faith?

Does society judge the faith?

Our time, our place, our life,

Faith is just a myth,

You the holder and giver,

Of all creation never ask for redemptions,

Dear lord why give your life?

For your people - unworthy spirits,

Never learn right from wrong,

Never gave a damn for prayer,

Still you would gracefully,

Kill for the right of faith,

I ask you - was your sacrifice worth the pain of the innocent?