Born to Burn.

I hold it all together.
Then it falls apart. Again, again and once again – the pieces of my heart and soul, lay on the well worn path.

The path my life has wandered on – as up and down I trace – to find each place to tear me up so I can re-arrange.

Me. How I am to be.

Each heartbreak stronger so I feel – more, each time, of all that’s real.

In love, in sadness, joy and grief, in life and so in death.

I cannot see too clearly now. My heart a mangled mess.
This time was surely once to come but now I must confess:

I thought I knew a little more – a little more than I did before…
And though I know, I know still nought, I had hoped I’d overcome –

Mortality that blindly sees itself, flung about the stars. Still in our constellation when –  one star slowly dies –
The loss we feel shall be revealed when we see it fall through skies.

Lighting up the sky, its life a gleaming trace, of all it has revealed to us in its death embrace.

I cannot see so clearly now! I ache within and out –  but, through the atmosphere I’ll burn, too follow natures pace.

We close our eyes to all that dies, we close our eyes to beauty. Let it be, please, not in vain we strain, and burn, against the course of time.

Look to the sky and see the glow of those we hope to hold, and know for all eternity who open up our eyes to see, where our broken pieces be – Where we watch on as they burn.

Where we shine and shine amongst the galaxies across our sky,

In life and death though just the self – our ego drifts on high.

Rearranged, re-exchanged,  reshaped, and re-affirmed –

Our hearts, our minds, our souls, entwined as star-dust glowing bright.
Each piece that breaks and falls through air, seen as it lights the sky – not hidden in the hands of time that shroud our fear-filled eyes.

Our fallen pieces burning up, may we too, watch as others burn for us –

Then a symphony of light we will see,

As new stars, will still be born to be,

As stars were born to burn.

Live on, light the darkness of time.

For this is our reason and rhyme.


Her Yearly Summer Plans

Not a murmur of breeze rustled the leaves of the great foliage of the palm that hung silently above her lasciviousness. The air dank with the smell of tequila and orange that emanated from the breath that she exhaled after the deep red she created on the end of her fag.

She motioned small circles in the air replicating the aura of the sun as it scorched her not so baby soft skin; puckered with years of sun-beds and liposuction, folding in small ringlets over the top of the pink of her slight, side tied, bikini bottom.

‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ her lips mouthed near silently to the clear skies of the siesta.
Speckled about their sandy patches of earth – no-one noticed the waves that did not crash, or her.

Her eyes glazed and quivered drooping half shut in anticipation of what the heated evening ahead may deliver her alcohol soured blood. She closed her mind to the images, in a shake of her head, and gripped the side of the fluffy ‘Minnie Mouse’ towel with a significantly unheard sigh. Sat up, applied sunscreen (you know the fancy one that comes out in a fine misty spray?) too near her face and spritzed it – behind her larger-than-average-sunglasses. A small yelp, and the faces laying dormant, as the rocks in the distance, on their white sandy towels, craned to see – then flopped back down under their colourful hats – resuming their languid absorption of the sun and themselves.

She blinked with the burn, in her eyes, on her skin, in her heart, seeing the mist begin to roll in;
Tonight, as all nights, she would sleep in a fever.