For Nights Asunder


We conspire against the breaking

Of the new day.

Leave our lungs open

On the edge of the silk

Covered cushions


Arranging furniture like

It is a museum

For all of the plastered dolls,

That we played with when

We were girls.

We cast shadows

Like they are long handed lots

Usurp hidden meanings

From the vibrancy

Of a smile


Never speak of emotion

And all the ways it is tainted

Laced with the tangible scent

Of cyanide poisoning.

And these halls

These labyrinth walls

Hold secrets of masterful deception.


They have been relegated

The theorem of weaponry

Known for it’s mass destruction

They play auspicious hand cast dies

Where we roll one

Hoping that time would stop

Lean into the crevice

Of clasped palms and hold us there


For every time your lips

Spoke revelation

I could only stumble

Into the cesspool

Of my own imagination

And I lived there

Languished under the weight

Of your auburn sky


And you brought death

From the chasm of life.

You turned my night

Into a grand spectacle.

Sold tickets by the pound

And snickered

And sneered


When I took one misstep

In want of you.

Still they are coming for you.

Peering in through your window

Just to watch you convulse

your veins

and how your face

is every shade of the underworld.


You grip your fingers

In the pan

Turn them over

At dusk

And we drank every inch

Of your malicious supremacy


But you scare me.

You frighten me

And although I often hold you close

You have pushed the needle

Through the tips

Of my fingers.


And still you are no lover of mine.

No wind swept pavilion

Towering over the nation.

You are simply

A floating piece of matter

Drifting across the bay.



“Come” They say

Beckoning us to move closer

Peer over the edge

Of this lucidity.

They offer us the gauntlet.

Plaster the body

Still we are reticent.

Our calamity akin

To the reflection of the Gods


So with thunder do we laugh

Rain clouds down from the sky

With boisterous sounds

Do we coax the elm tree

From the ground

Build our empires

Across the throats

Of men with pistols

Packed within

The contingency

Of their brow


The ground littered

with the white dust

from chalk circles

Running around their distorted bodies

The incandescent blows

Through these thoughts

And lunge argumentative explosions

Pitted against each other.


Not for all the world

Would we let ourselves

Become consumed

Not for all the turning of tides

And those galaxies

That thronged against

The bottomless pit of our deliverance.



Still this Tyranny

Immutable democracy

stuffed into mailboxes.

With aristocratic humility

That has been etched

Into the corners

Of your pockets.


And you have written cheques

Addressed to passionate


All who sought your confidence

With resignation

You left it there.

But here we have found our faith.

Delivered our divinity

Into the tired hearts.


Lost in the realm between

The mind

And these laboured thoughts

Dangling beneath the skin.


~Melodic Rose~


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