crystalline dreams

miles above her
in the vastness of space
the Man In The Moon
smiles serenely at her face
singling her out
from the night-time crowds
as Perseus & Andromeda
dance amongst the clouds

miles above her
in God’s holy heaven
Gabriel starts to play his horn
at the stroke of eleven
& the archangel Michael
stretches forth his golden lance
as the cherubim & seraphim
joyously begin to dance

still confined to earth
the Princess Poet smiles
her Chinese calligraphy pen
constructing alphabet aisles
secure in the knowledge
that nothing is what it seems
comforted by glass walls
& crystalline dreams

copyright © 2014 KPM

crystalline dreams pic

does everyone stare?

big & brown
never are they cast down
they stare at me
but what’s to see?

blue & bleary
the wind makes them teary
they stare at me
what do they see?

summer leaf green
some kind, some mean
staring at me
what is it they see?

gray & grim
a small army of them
always starin’ at me
what in hell do they see?

bold & black
their gaze like an attack
just starin’ at me
wish I knew what they see

copyright © 2014 KPM

does everyone stare pic

beam me up, Scotty!

jacked-up junkies
dirty drunkies
colleagues that’re ass-lickin’ flunkies

gutted cars
sleazy strip bars
stoners who claim they’ve come from Mars

steamin’ dog shit
damp blobs of spit
men who claim to love you before they hit

beam me up, Scotty
cuz planet Earth is whack
beam me up, Scotty
I’ll never ask you to come back

welfare mommas
baby daddy dramas
kids wanderin’ the streets in threadbare pajamas

teens in detention
workers on suspension
news headlines too awful to mention

street musicians
corrupt politicians
ordinary folk on desperate missions

beam me up, Scotty
I’m drownin’ in fear
beam me up, Scotty
cause I don’t like it here

copyright © 2014 KPM

beammeupscotty pic

dark wonder

a dark wonder
manifest in verse
love as a blessing
life as a curse
hopes that curdle
like spoiled cream
depression devours
every dream
lawless / legless
tortured thoughts shifting
vainly seeking
light uplifting
a buzzing noise
a heart like stone
sweaty / sleepless
nights alone

copyright © 2014 KPM

dark wonder pic

symphony for sin in seven parts

a soul as old as the sands of time
owner of a house without reason or rhyme
only infidels are invited in
to partake all the delights of sin

thus the doors are opened wide
welcome to the darker side

Livia, Delilah and Jezebel
grin as they greet you at the gates of hell
keepers of the eternal fires
grantors of your darkest desires

thus the doors are opened wide
celebrate the darker side

a room full of mirrors crack’d and stained
sad souls dance before them ‘til they’re drained
down vanity’s slope these souls did slide
into the valley known as Pride

thus the doors are opened wide
take a look at the darker side

for those who Envy there’s a special hoard
of lovely things they could never afford
items they wish they could’ve bought
baubles for which they bitterly fought

thus the doors are opened wide
rejoice in the darker side

there’s a massive kitchen for Gluttony
in here you can eat everything you can see
smack your lips and watch your belly swell
then waddle thru the halls of hell

thus the doors are opened wide
drink deep of the darker side

the cellar holds a diabolical jury
for those who spent their lives in fury
follow a steep and spirally path
to cavort with the demon Wrath

thus the doors are opened wide
gambol in the darker side

we’ve not left out a room for Greed
so satisfy your every need
money and sex, or jewels and power
you’ll never have an idle hour

thus the doors are opened wide
delight in the darker side
lazy souls can pledge their troth
to the slovenly spirit Sloth
a simpering and mindless jerk
with him you’ll never have to work

thus the doors are opened wide
all hail the darker side

our favourite room was saved ‘til last
for boasters of their sexual past
the attic holds the incubus Lust
come copulate amidst the dust

thus the doors are opened wide
learn to love your darker side

copyright © 2014 KPM

symphony for sin pic

before I die

gradually,
beauty departs
in erratic fits & starts:
hair becomes thinner,
dirty dishwater gray
lower is the ass
that once had a sexy sway
breasts that drew men’s eyes
are no longer firm
the first varicose vein appears
like some malevolent worm
if you’re lucky, you grow old
though this process one may hate
she views it amusement
continuing to celebrate

copyright © 2014 KPM

before I die pic

an accidental touch from a lonely man

there’s not much light
in the tiny, dusty store
illumination comes
through the propped-open door
but the location’s convenient –
it’s on her way
so she pops in
most every day

the man behind the counter
has a face of dusky stone
every day he’s there
every day he’s all alone
she often idly wonders
what he opens up for
seems like she’s the only one
to ever frequent his store

he follows her round the shop
this might fill her with unease
were it not so obvious
that he’s only trying to please
yet whenever she comes in
be it morning or end of day
he rewards her with a smile
in place of words he’s scared to say

“would you like a paper?
a small cake for after tea?
today crisps are on special –
two bags for 50p”
he smiles as he bags her purchases
a paper & chopped pineapple in a can
his callused fingers brushing
across the back of her hand

she’s startled by the contact
was it deliberate, that touch?
“get a grip,” she tells herself
“sometimes you think too much”
yet that hand feels warm all day
affecting her attention span
that accidental touch
from an old ‘n lonely man

copyright © 2014 KPM

lonelyoldman pic

dwellin’ in da house of da Lord

so ah’m dwellin’ in da house of da Lord
an’ its way more expensive ‘n anythin’ ah kin afford
cuz Gawd likes ta crack dat whip
a lotta stuff from you He’ll ask
but I’se weak – I’se jes’ a sinner
ain’t shore I’se up to dis task

yeah, ah’m dwellin’ in da house of da Lord
where mah alarm system consists of Gabriel’s sword
Gawd needs ta be da only love
an’ He’ll take care o’ all yo’ wants
if you’ll jes’ break free
from yo’ past an’ all its haunts

praise Jesus, now ah live I da house of da Lord
where deep in mah soul ah kin feel Mercy’s chord
ah’m a child o’ Gawd now –
no longer will ah chafe
from hell’s temptation,
ah’m forever safe

copyright © 2014 KPM

houseofdalord pic

urgent

ashamed
afraid to show her face
she’s drowning
in a deep dark place
Lord,
she needs your grace
O Lord,
bestow on her your grace

terrified
of the numbers that dwindle
frightened
of hopes that refuse to rekindle
Lord,
she needs your peace
O Lord,
grant her your peace

downhearted
as all she’s worked for disappears
depressed & dispirited
she cries endless tears
Lord,
she needs your love
O Lord,
show her your love

copyright © 2014 KPM

urgent pic

Chapter 2 -Wifey

So now our girl is a married woman. An adult, married in the sight of God. But she doesn’t feel like an adult: her brain, her mind feels like a grown-up’s, preoccupied with thoughts of getting to work on time, paying rent and what to make for her husband’s dinner. But her heart still feels like a hopeful, carefree 16-year-old, and she still has the smile of the little girl who got her first kiss at the age of six by MK, who ran up to her in the playground and kissed her smack on the lips before bursting into giggles and running away.

But she tells herself she’s an adult, so she adjusts her behaviour accordingly. She gets up with her husband in the mornings to make sure he has toast and coffee before he leaves for his job with a local trucking firm, carrying the packed lunch she’s made for him in one hand and her goodbye kiss on his cheek. After which she hastily dresses and heads out to her own job.

She’s working two jobs: mornings, she works as a clerical assistant for a community college. Evenings, our girl can be found waitressing at Rodney’s Inn, a hole-in-the-wall dive in the middle of the industrial section of the city that caters to truckers, steel mill workers, the guys from the Chevy and Ford plants, lonely old people and businessmen looking for a ‘dirty’ girl. The customers adore her, especially the businessmen, who offer the most outrageous inducements for one hour of her time at one of the nearby motels. But her wedding ring is her armor; she’s made it patently clear that she’s not interested, and the truckers, those big, beefy tattooed guys have all adopted her as a kind of “little sister” and are quick to deliver a thump on the head to anyone who gets out of line.

She doesn’t need to work two jobs; the money from her husband’s job and what she makes at the college is adequate. But this girl don’t do adequate – this girl is ambitious, she wants things. More importantly, she wants – she needs – to show her parents that she’s not a failure.

So for the first three months of the marriage she works like a dog to make the run-down apartment they live in into a nice home. She paints and, with her husband’s aggrieved assistance (“Why we gotta fix this place up…’s fine like it is!”) wallpapers. She haunts the second-hand shops for furniture that doesn’t look second-hand. Curtains, towels, bed linen, lamps, all lovingly picked by herself, as her spouse displayed mostly humor and disinterest. “You da woman of da house, anyway,” he says, glued to the NCAA finals on the TV. “You do it up – I trust you.”

So tiredly, happily, she shops. Determined to turn their one-bedroom unit into a proper home, and absurdly pleased that he trusts her to make all the decisions.

Poor girl…she has a lot to learn about trust.