Sorrow's Native Son

40.

2009-10-20T18:39:00.001+01:00

Photographs strobe beneath lids
echo from one year to the next,
determined flashes
regurgitating phantoms,
specks ingrained
self absorbing,
once alive.

Tenderness
captures the black
and the not so white,
smudging realism
torn by rigid belief.

Voices
of the kaleidoscope collide.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Room 119

2009-10-20T18:36:00.001+01:00

Ambers light half my night,
spirits lashed consume
Sunday service,
collection tin bankrupt
bar a few pennies, heaven
teasing the misguided notion
of eternity

Gideon sells the lie,
a warrior in God’s name
placed with every sordid interlude
upon the king in room 119,
judged
I grasp the final gasp

Honour quelled with vanity
broken, drowned
as the rolling blanket draws me in,
tears hung by a thread spliced
finely cut, my cross to bear, disdain
tongue draped and dry
upon the desert, each halo alight.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

The Traveller.

2009-09-14T19:52:00.001+01:00

Aching miles of golden grain whisper:

‘We are your malice
your holy grail
and you will be mine,
eternal’.

The flame of desire quivering
within your palms clutching
the edge of reason,
severed by your homeland,
poorer for all you know is lost

The four winds howling in unison
mock your majestic mind,
call your names, one by one
for here is where you belong
to no-one.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw.

Untitled - Charcoal Sky.

2009-09-14T19:48:00.001+01:00

A charcoal sky blackens the horizon
paints anger across it’s paths,
patiently awaits the rumble
three miles south,
flocks flee the funnel
driving oblivion,
caressing with it’s hands
leaving torrential tears
tearing at wanton wounds
howling

‘The end is nigh, bye, bye my love, bye bye.’

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw.

Our War.

2009-09-14T19:46:00.001+01:00

Sincerity slain upon the last sunrise
captured, images of night
brutalised beyond sanity,
cradled to death
love torn.

Reason smothered by dust’s scent
begging forgiveness,
needling paradise, sobbing
widows entrenched
despair.

Slivers of cold slice the blood
congealed, madness
holding tight, petrified
the silent scream carved
in stone.

Heavy hearts hang from decades
decayed, splintered tears
seared, the moonlit shame
torched at dawn, this is
our war.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw.

The Wake.

2009-09-07T11:46:00.001+01:00

Washed upon isolation’s ride,
smile crippled by fate’s
entourage, wistful clouds
pass the mind’s eye
watering stale ale

Sorrows drowned, appetites
consumed as melodies
crack the silence, beat
the heart into submission,
deceive the snapshot

Sixty-nine years
thrown by the wayside.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw.

The Will.

2009-07-10T17:10:00.001+01:00

My favourite shirt that holds secrets
I’ve yet to share,
the white one with embroidered lace
you cherish,
one thousand and fifty six records
not played since 1999,
the books owned from age fifteen
collecting dust

And spider’s webs
are yours to keep.

My written words of capitulation
hide my true worth,
the sudden depths of loneliness
you will search,
the music of my mind disguised
in free form,
your tears tattooed to your face
freezing in time

Lullabies confide
mine to keep.

The sound of all your tomorrows
withdraw to slumber.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

The Grasp.

2009-07-10T17:07:00.001+01:00

The flicker of the television
siphons the subconscious
weary of tomorrows viewing,
the flower wilts with irony
embossed on my fingers
control, out of reach
inhibitions inhibited,
outside a tapping at my door
an intrusion of humankind.

The gas man needs to screw
me for the bonus of a life
time bought and sold
down the gutter of convenience,
construed from paper talk
tattered and torn, the grasp
lost, inside are my waking hours
vanquished from a loved heart
bereft of compassion, empathy gone.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Exorcised

2009-07-10T17:05:00.001+01:00

My chalice trembles at night
As the chink of ice resonates
Around my arid mind
Immersed in babble

Conflict of being
Surrounded by the chimes,
wretched words wake me
from my stumble, my Lord

Reds invade the blue hues
Acid rain cleanses
Partisan warriors
The suits and all who dine

Unrepentant, reaping
Revenge, the hand of God
Echoes of Ezekiel.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Gone.

2009-07-10T17:03:00.000+01:00

The devil stared from the sky
Our reflection splayed
Across the oceans,
Laughter strangled
By sorrow’s persistence

The final tick upon us
With the tock long gone.

Mercy held at arms length
For no-one could beggar belief
We were one with insanity,
Smiles felled
By tomorrow’s regret

The silos driven by hate
Silent. Gone.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Long Dead.

2009-07-10T17:01:00.001+01:00

Long Dead.

Estranged obsessions collect
Possessions diluted with every breath,
Time eludes insanity
Begging relief,
Wretched nuances accept the end
For what she says
Is God, good yet long dead.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Curtain Call.

2009-07-10T16:59:00.000+01:00

I step outside

Sunshine blazes over the bar
raised on a cold winter’s afternoon,
she mocks with the left while the right
teases with the warmth of a boxer
entrenched, tides roll, seize the moment
beneath the willow crying on each corner,
sign of the times as snow falls in spring
wets the appetite of sinners distilled with pain,
delirious at the second coming of an end.

Lighting a cigarette
I watch the lights go out one by one.

The curtain falls, I pray.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Skin Storm.

2009-02-19T21:26:00.003Z

Beauty only plays at night
when lights are dimmed,
perpetuated by lover’s blindfolds
longed for in dreams
rapid eye movement stifled

Lines carved from age
crease the tear’s reservoirs,
clotted nails strewn across flesh
aching for touch to embrace
pity born of the reflection

Virus like it crawls beneath
scurries from left to right,
wields ten knives reaping
the reward, layers of meat
the pleasure endorsed by pain

The sheets are a murder scene
rippled in rustic red,
encrusted to the torso,
limbs like layer cake sliced
freshly fried upon puss pots

With dawn braking I lie tight
motionless and tired,
solitary droplets sit fully formed
atop my bloodied craters
eager for the night.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Marooned.

2009-02-12T20:50:00.000Z

Eons apart, fabled fates collide
within the cesspool of my mind,
digits flit across the eye line
of night, etch our descent,
decipher the meaning of life.

Tall tales torment every child
caress the tears of dreams torn,
the innocent glance holds
my heart, burdened with fear,
motionless, without answers.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Whispers.

2009-02-12T20:48:00.002Z

Demented fog fills the void
your innocent mind,
bequeathed to me
the day you dined,
your glass skin petrified
eyes fixated divine.

The crack of bone
spliced in honour, for love,
my right hand
cradling her throat
the left drove home
hate instilled
from the age of nine.

Dripping from the casket
of our belligerent mother,
her prayer
forgiveness blind,
her frail limbs slumped
eyes shut tight.

I smiled at my design.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

Lost.

2009-02-12T20:46:00.001Z

Words wander the mind’s wasteland
congregate by the wayside,
peer through windows
at each and every one of us.

Meaning ebbs from blinded eyes
deafening silence echoes off the page,
aching for the quill to scratch it’s itch
pleading for the ink to flow.

Hear the melody hurt with beauty
black and ivory entwined,
the encore of what once was
and here she lies, fading embers.

Severance upon the lips of passer-by’s,
no click, click, click of keys
tapping out the ultimate demise
as sadness haunts the betrayed.

Steeples fall without grace or virtue
cobwebs weep with the touch of rain,
the wind ceases to howl
leaving nothing but an empty landscape

Lost.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

On Ice.

2009-01-12T20:21:00.002Z

I watch the glass ease
so easily half empty
a picturesque delusion
of happiness, mocking
as the second hand floats
slowly by stuttering at twelve,
my shutters blurring

the consequence of who I am

the solitary figure fatigued,
every word dispensed
twenty yarns ago unheard

tears dissipate
desert my sodden sleeve

run faster than every human
being I have touched

my awkwardness laid lame
beneath the star I long for

the temptation of the gutter
embraced childlike
I dance the forbidden route,
walking the lush green mile
hand in hand with you
my eager saviour, servant
to the night we will always be.

© 2009 Michael J. Earnshaw

anonymous.

2008-12-08T19:24:00.001Z

The alcoholic sip of air
immerses the pain,
rage ripples the iris
takes hold of my tears
rips apart the joy of life washed in sin

despair focused
prepares the stench of death
bathed in lust

the addiction that itches the skin
crawls beneath,
waiting
for the moment of uncontrolled fever

smirks in the corner
as I bite another piece of me.

The wax baked on limp dreams
that I was special

within the fire of hate
the circle of make believe

goodbye, my lover
my friend and confidant:

my alter ego.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

"Exit."

2008-11-20T19:09:00.000Z

The slip of your delicate frame cavorts with demons,
strokes shadows of the moon
skipping through ether,
one step, two step
shuffling clouds
like a deck of cards
collapsing through time.

I light a cigarette
inhale fumes of death
enriched with arsenic,
breathe through rustic nostrils

my voice aching with every murmur

"I will follow, soon,
once the drip, drip, drip subsides."

My eyes look deeper

and you have gone

but so have I,
down the corridor and a taxi home.

I pour a bourbon and smile,
look to the mirror
choose not to cry

but enjoy the moment
tomorrow's end
and all she will bring.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

The Attic.

2008-11-14T21:42:00.001Z

Rumours abound deep within
hollow cries of yesteryear,

shackle
the truth,
fear

the embrace.

The monotonous rain congealed,
each drop splays the floor
in sequence

the chimes of the clock
mocking all who sleep below.

Time ravages all who come to pass
yet welcomes with a splendid hello

for here lies hell
the prison of my mind
uncontrolled

I and I alone.

I pace once a year through empty spaces,
banging my head against their door

the momentary shadow
talks to me
as I watch from the attic window.

I am the sequence of events
murdered in dreams,
the black and white smudged

inherited from demons long settled.

The caricature of life
captured by the lonely descent
of every passer-by

their prayers unanswered
laced with venom

choked by lore and prose

their God in my hands
as I sever each throat

including my own.

©2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

Porcelain.

2008-11-14T21:28:00.001Z

I interpret the bargain in my hands
your porcelain face

carved within the timeline of apathy

I anticipate the shatter of delusions
specific to my crime

deny the denial of my every whim.

Dusk arrives and
I hurt more than I’ve ever done

stick the pins as we collide,
capitulate to the whore of wisdom

consider your worth.

One day you will be mine
forever entwined

dust to dust
ashes to ashes

we will rise.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.

"Shadow Play."

2008-08-12T18:27:00.004+01:00

I stare rejection in the face
before I go to bed
each night

It smiles as if it knows
everything I'm yet to feel

burns into the carcass it betrays

a shadow play.

Single droplets dissipate

tormented

I look beyond,
try to see
understand that this is it

this is me

I can't.

I close my eyes and turn
catching for a moment

myself move

it reaches out

I walk away.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.

"Seven."

2008-08-12T18:18:00.001+01:00

I seek impoverished realms
take all I survey,
trample the tides of humanity
with the flame of wrath

dismember the vanity of every desire.

I peer into the void
my eyes full and green

watching,
waiting

wanting the congregation to hold me.

Their belief's rip the ether
open the door
empower all
with or without choice.

My spirit swells
carved with seven signs:

disciples

pulling every sinner
before 'truth'

my brethren.

I am not the number of the beast
nor God
whom glide effortlessly through lore
and 'dreams'

I am humankind

mirrored in every ill
thought conceived

the image I create
before you

as I unleash each darkened corner.

Faith

will draw it's final breath.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw.

one corner

2008-08-12T18:15:00.000+01:00

Tears as trinkets
unlike diamonds

shiver with pain

one corner of the room
displayed yet
shadowed by the hand that caressed another.

The void of sanity enveloped
with each blow
seared

torched by words of sorrow

one corner of the mind
hidden yet
reflected in the shallow cry of silence.

I saw myself

slumped
engorged

piety drowned

one corner of the box

lit for a moment
before the darkness took me.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

Soften The Sorrow.

2008-06-06T18:47:00.002+01:00

Blind my eyes
So my shadow won't scare me

Sever my hands
So I can never hold onto the past

Deafen my ears
So I may hear silence eternal

Sew my lips
For they shall utter no more
Tales of the abandoned truth.

Wrap my lungs in clouds of smoke
So the air I exhale chokes

Carve my flesh with the quill
So my pores bleed empty

Pluck my heart with the blade
So the beat inevitably slows

And pickle my mind
For it shall soften the sorrow

Of my everlasting final thought.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

'The Price Of Life.'

2008-05-09T19:21:00.002+01:00

Born without choice

ironic
the unknown fear
hidden
the depth of life

reality seldom realised

walking the dead.

Each green mile
subconsciously
eaten

youth

day
by
month
by
year.

I cry one billion tears
unknown to my consciousness

as the clock beckons with it's etched face,
each finger glides

wags
never weary

guiding our way to darkness.

I need to take the slow path
as each line appears

never fade,
they crawl across mankind

as the quick path beckons
with demons of excess

the price of life?

Death.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

'Myself & I.'

2008-05-09T18:55:00.002+01:00

'Myself & I.'

You toss and

turn

crumpled

unlike a blank page,

creases permanent.

Can you hear me?

the taunts that wake you.

Can you see me?

the shadows that lash your bed.

Can you feel me?

the footsteps you imagine

real.

I am hidden within the mind's riddle

darker than night,

reaching each corner,

grasping at your purgatory

licking the flames of

sympathy's hand held empathy-

the child-like figure

peering thro' the frosted window

pleading for

the deep sleep-

until then

I'll circle your being

devour your life,

drown your dreams.

'Life's Litter.'

2008-04-27T19:49:00.002+01:00

Life's litter strewn
across the bedside table,
cornered by the photograph
ripped in two

haunted beauty
smiled

defaced.

Distant melodies
fed
my lobes as
the needle throbbed

blue veins empty

tears to be born
never came,
the moment crushed

cracked like a jigsaw
the final piece gone.

Thro' the eyes of my inner child
I saw fear
skit across the landscape

borrowed

bludgeoned

burnt

mirrored within my own self worth.

Innocence lost each night,
dreams cradled
blatantly sold

the promise of freedom
born from rage

soiled

and I can save my world,

the inevitable
consequence of delusion.

I am what I am,
a dead man waking

in time for the ultimate score.

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

I Remember You.

2008-04-11T17:55:00.002+01:00

A distant face,
once pretty

now
ill-defined,
drowned
in self remorse.

I remember you

misinformed and
misaligned,

manic
you bled me dry.

A childless mother of convenience
or should I say dilapidated?

I could mock you,
snigger in the back room

or

hold my helping hand
high.

The moment of fondness buried
ten years before

still scored across my eyeline
as the tears forged roots.

I travel back,
recollections lucid,
haunting every move

till now,

I see the hate

haggard and
hidden
like a photograph
torn,

the band of gold slung across the room

melted,

forged myself into the iron fist,

I raged against
the lasting memoir,

could have punished you deeper

the hot blade of my tongue
through your bleating mind,

lashing at your lilac poison
perfumed,

choking

as I recall your words

‘I will love you,

always.’

© 2008 Michael J. Earnshaw

Blind.

2008-04-10T22:44:00.002+01:00

‘Blind.’

Motion of mind played night and day,
echoed reason

the calamity of desperados
tricked in on the ill wind

hallowed be thy prayer,
devoured in the instant
divine rights etched linen.

My lord and master chained to the thigh
lapped at innocence,
sin wrought with pleasure

each word hung with every groan
misplaced

tortured be thy prayer,
unheard yet ridiculed
each thought swept in a flood of babble.

Truth taken,
twisted like the apple tree,
forbidden speech and

written words wane

within time

blood on every hand held

each corner turned

blind.
© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'Morphine.'

2007-10-10T18:24:00.001+01:00

Down the dark dire road

mechanical, morose

the exit

the only end

intricate droplets

throbbed slow

delirium

as happiness hung.

My ivory tower

withered

manhood stripped

sober sensuality

septic

the only tear

one final fear perpetual.

Languished

on the merry-go-round,

high

life surreal.

I laid with the surge

laughed with the past

wired my wretched wonderland

three days

four nights

refused the restless

reality,
the internal inferno

swallowed

my infinite being

pounded my paternal pride

drew me to the abyss

as I peered

over the periphery.

Pillow Talk.

2007-10-05T20:14:00.000+01:00

I was the blood that bred ill
the treasure of moments
taken
without due care,
eloquent
the whisper of death

I ghosted into your dreams
watched you undress,
penetrated your innocence,
lust dispossessed.

You took me with the smile
cruised my affection,
danced
with drunken allure
upon my fertile ground

hooked on the ether of desire
you completed me,
evolved, perspired
never defeated me,
needed the need.

I was the flame of devastation
the tragedy of your mothers nightmare
bored into your flesh,
I trashed your love and
dissolved the skin.

Immersed my poison into your womb,
caught the demon of every fable
entwined your longing,
twisted it
turned the tricks

white lies

ripped
your husband

from within your mind

tossed him aside.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

the rapture.

2007-09-29T10:37:00.000+01:00

He tempted violence within
coursed the veins of her dreams,
tortured the need
to survive
pounds at a time,
trawled the ravines
of slags like a disease.

Powdered noses cracked the mirror,
innuendo draped over lines
the nameless face,
the stench of the bowl spilled
stifled her slender frame
flushed away.

Piss and venom spat as
haggard fingers fumbled the creases,
tore every moment of feeling
as time reigned over
her desolate landscape,
squealed at the pain

watched,
waited

withered.

With each line
taken
the spirit sanguine, salted,
thrust upon thrust
eased with every drip of human oil,
rebellious of morality and
joyous in the instant.

Decadence dwelled in the slum of her heart,
imposed the want
the exposed need,
defiled every ounce of allure
yet recompensed the hurt
with each erotic stroke,
tears bought as
the rapture

raped respect.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'Ethan.'

2007-09-20T21:06:00.000+01:00

Shards of my paternal heart
crystallise,
mood sunk

unconditional
love
on the road of winding life.

My friend,
my treasure
I keep close,

forever is a long time,

my friend,
my pleasure
to hold close,
forever it will be:

this gift given
taken with gratitude

his friend, I’ll always believe.

Affection in
full splendour,
his porcelain face
in a smile of scars

my son.

November 14th
he arrived,
lay in my arms
did not cry

listened
to my personal lullaby.

The promise I made
to hurt like I’d died,

take each blow

it’s all he’s worth,

stumble and ache for our rights,

every time crushes a little more
yet the pain will ease.

No-one can feel every thought
that passes through
each time I take another
blade,

each swipe that severs the solitude,
the photograph I stare into
drives my will to survive

and I feel.

Ethan, my son
I protect:

keep
see and
hold you

within my laughter
within my tears,

hold these moments like they are my last

as I cry.

Severance.

2007-09-17T17:03:00.000+01:00

Severance.

Gratification of being born
drowned on
the edge of reality,

stopped
each moment of weakness as

she slipped from the grasp of her spider's web,

tampered by tears of torment,
shell dead
more than it ever was,

insides gutted,

spewed across the wasteland of
every mans wet dream.

Vultures laid in wait
eager eyes
blood red with rage,

circled each emotion
penetrated the locked door of innocence,

spilled the sanity of sorrow's native daughter,

reached the monotone horror
of her deepest recess,

stripped each ounce of life,

severance of breath.

'One.'

2007-09-07T21:10:00.000+01:00

Purge the insides of feeling,
emancipate government whores,
political pain unleashed
every waking night
sleeping day.

Watch the fear ooze
from the screen,
stench of the overcooked world,
baked over Bollingers at a five star
monument.

El Presidente emblazoned
on the front page

comrade-in-arms without a clue,

night time news
to headline print,
catalogued for my son's future
demise.

Two phallic symbols of extravagant
proportions
sunk:

in the name of God

one by one
the lonely decent,
snap-shots of what we've become.

One boy, gun in hand
spray can the other

morally defaces his innocence lost,

father half-dead,
my mother?

his America, mother gone.

Idealistic
idiosyncrasies,

idolised
the bearer of the U.S. Dollar

the English Pound shadowed
secretly weeps for independence

and is on borrowed time.

America with it's tired allies
off their leash
belly's showing,
for all their might
won't paralyse the parasites.

Creatures of God re-armed with blind belief,
await the callous call to jack and blow

the western world

apart

thankyou.

lysergic acid diethyl amide.

2007-09-07T21:01:00.000+01:00

It came to pass
as I passed
over,
lids shut tight
imagined
thoughts of the last sip:

pollen air,

the taste of triumph
the taste of despair:

bitter sweet.

The final thought,
the final tear
seeping

my final beat
creeping:

thro' shadows I'd not dare.

The last thing I heard:'

I told you it was over.

'Tick. Tock. Tick.

Mindless, banal
pulse of the clock,
hypnotised
I float down the canal,
freedom washes over me,

my comeuppance

welcomed with such joy,
pain oozes from bloated pores:

release of anguish needling my existence.

Existence?

37 years, not a tock more
myself
the babble

'Do it, do it, do it..'

'your shell immortal.

'the reality I fear not.

Though the image begged to differ,
my arms flailed:

devoutly nailed
to the low of my high.

The mirror mocks me,
each hair,
crease and
minute detail

that has graced my unearthly face.

A piano played my mind,
couldn't get what I was suppose to say,
onlookers
carry their bigoted shame,

a tragedy and
I'm not to blame,
the ache subsides as they

burn my charred remains.

Dance of joy
hooked
upon free flowing hash,
eases the inevitable
sleep.

scores feed
pick my intoxicated flesh,
the subconscious core
silently screams,

dilated,

lacking fear

of an early death.

"The Falling Man."

2007-09-07T14:51:00.001+01:00

Angels on the black breeze
eased the way down

flames licking past
through falling shards

howls echoed in silence:

grey silence
that held all hearts poised

filled the void that was once called home.

Symphonies captured the strokes
of
every
moment

the staccato pluck

paused for no-one

strings pulled
every
tear

choked
voices.

Bricks and mortar
strewn across
the plateau
of my ignited being

as sanity simmered to death
long before
the flesh

wept with each
cinematic thought

alone

yet
surrounded by the falling man:

the ghost of hope burning brightly
amidst the guilt

madness made immortal
unforgiving

relentless and eternal.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'God Made Me.'

2007-09-06T20:17:00.003+01:00

Cookie dough innocence
painted
on walls,
fingerprints of time

cracked
the hourglass

each aspiration
of youth

sheared.

My virtuoso performance

through the window
beyond night,
swallowed
the created mind,

etched the route of evil
behind those deep brown eyes:

eaten

the reality of waking.

Siphoned celluloid memories
cascaded,
laughter drowned by rivers
ragged tears

the truth
the dare

whispered,
the final sneeze missed

mother's nurture.

Read between the lines and
saw

looked beneath the surface and
heard

shallow screams served cold

scratching at the deep white,
the endless circle
of my belligerent landscape.

Frame after frame
torched

by my hand

ridicule at conception
reached inside,

stripped
dignity as
desire fled death

without conscience

God made me.

life's harvest.

2007-08-13T22:08:00.000+01:00

Life's Harvest.

Puppets on strings
limp
uninterested
shimmer to the command
of fate's twisted smile.

One with an Uzi,
another
a Glock:

the excuse for father's absence.

Working class war
whore
dissected,
rotted reason of banality,
wetted by the appetite
of every strangers intrusion:

fists clenched
face frozen frayed,
pupils dilated
rage:

they were mummies boys.

White lines peppered the neon glow,
insight pickled
beyond delusion,
consequence of feeling poor,
rooted from the age of six.

Desires overflowed with every passing blow,
erect extensions of manhood
pleasured,
each scream driven,
showered the mall,

memories like shards flew faster than
R.E.M.s at 5:05.

The whites of my eyes
popped
as one voice echoed

'please… forgive me.'

Words
filtered
without ego,
desperate
yet warmed.

Death.

the blanket that wraps us all,

life's harvest.

Copyright.2007. SYMPATHY'S SYMPHONY

strangelove.

2007-08-13T21:35:00.001+01:00

The heartache of innocence
created by soiled memories,
drove the devils dice
through God's eyes,
my hollow scream
split in two

frozen fears
ideas
ill informed,
stomped out education by
raising hell within my childlike mind.

Mother was manipulated six fold,
father?
the guiding hand,
fists for favour and folly,
uncompromising unity of the left and right.

The only place to hide
was the distant dream
drowned,
towering brothers of immense power,
our only playground of green
browns and
blood reds,
bitter sweet utterance, windswept.

Mother was grotesque,
father?
the binding glue,
clotted the gaping wound,
my vacuum I called strangelove.

Hereditary ignorance of emotion
treasured more than my passing heartbeats,
captured in the wrong time,
born to two monsters,
reconciliation raped by retribution.

I turned full throttle:
left them behind,
severed

yet forever entwined.

©2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

BLACK CARNIVAL.

2007-06-09T22:18:00.001+01:00

'black carnival.'

Dreamscapes collide
blur the edges,
the canvass of carnage
a carnival,

I sleep
one eye open,
watch death patiently pace
my shallow sanctuary.

I fall thro' the keyhole
of indifference, maybe
it's better to go
than wake the wanton wanderings of

my vacant heart.

The bed of nails aches
for my penance,
the genius of sorrow
embedded
from being born.

I cry.

Madness made immortal
by the shatter of what was left behind:

humankind.

one small voice.

2007-05-12T16:15:00.000+01:00

One voice
small
supersonic,
caresses the walls
aches for deliverance,
lashes the water of life.

One small voice
chatters,
devours
every ounce,
strength born of pain,
oblivion the reality.

One small voice
drowning,
the meaning of life
crawls back home,
regret to be conceived.

One voice
small
reluctant,
innocence crucified
with the first gulp of air:

chokes on the tears of mother's indecision.

One small voice.

personal ghost.

2007-05-04T19:10:00.000+01:00

I see you laughing
I see you cry,
it hurts as
i'm alone in this world
out of my mind
a helpless pain,
eternal..

once upon a time I lived.

I can't get you out of mind
sleep easy
close my weary eyes
if only I could..

watching those flowers grow
the summer sun rise
how I need to feel you,
i'm so cold
an empty sorrow,
can't let go.

I'll watch,
keep forever
your beauty I idolise,
your tearful smile
for me,
yourself and all that's gone
to see you standing there
holding onto what we lost,
trying to touch you
wipe those tears – tears that care.

You know I still love you
and there's nothing I can do
if only there was..

I see you lost inside,
I want to hold your hand
kiss your lips
your skin one last time,
to tell you that it's alright..

so sleep tight my love
without fear
i'm by your side
always here..

your shadow
your angel
your one true love
I promise..

your personal ghost.'

{sympathy's symphony -2006(mje)}

asleep

2007-05-04T19:02:00.000+01:00

Darkness envelops our world
a daily occurrence,
the necessity of life: sleep.

I, myself
toss and turn:
little by little,

survive.

The amber shadows crossing my bed,
the humdrum drone
of clinical silence,
drifting through my lobes.

Counting the seconds
striving for dawn to rise,
backwards they seem,
mesmerising:

to the left dull, digital figures
mocking my very worth.

Tick-tock, tick-tock,
hypnotic yet disturbing,
as my being perspires
the listless breath needling quiet.

My eyes squeezed tight
framing images passing by,
each thought a moment of yesteryear
what should have been and what has not,
animated shadows playing peek-a-boo,
scaring the reality of waking up.

Startled!
I sat up wiping my mouth,
alive and lucid
yet confused as the orange littered my room,
was it a dream?
I think not:

A passing pause occurring
fooled my being,
the clock displaying five past three,
lost for a moment
indulging de ja vu:

again.

Faces seep through the cracks of the walls
laughing at my deprivation,
toy with the sanity I once had,
and the yearning for peace,
the place of pleasant dreams.

Each night I feel the world's burden,
happy thoughts swallowed by the paranoia,
that this is it:

the final journey of my meaningless existence,
an inconsequential speck of dust
falling through time,

asleep?

enough is enough.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

sleeper

2007-05-04T18:56:00.000+01:00

Images I can’t portray
put on paper
or bring myself to describe,
fear
guilt
pain :
unease with myself.

Jaded memoirs
soothe
yet fill me with turmoil.

I’m in every picture
song
written word,
within the flicker
a flame
a teardrop falling
memories
belonging to no-one.

I can see through the mirror
beyond what is real
as though I walk without care
fear.

I feel..
hate
shame
love
quiet unease

sleeping with pain.

To you I’m handsome :
look closer
deeper,
unworthy of any life,

a sleeper

trapped like the flame
the tear
aching to be released.

Born

longing for my true place
with those I’ve seen
pass away,

life and
death
buried

are my dreams.

I am lost
the child’s innocence

lost..

everything that lay here once,

your broken heart
the faded photograph,

my reflection
a shadow in the night
the melodic ghost in the corner of your eye,

voice of an echo passed.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'The meaning of life.'

2007-05-04T15:42:00.000+01:00

'The meaning of life.'

Solitary, tears consumed the silence
the clock watcher's monotony broken,
grains meticulously dripped
single file
slipped thro' God's fingers
faster than he imagined.

With no more answers
the moment arrived,
in full view of an unsuspecting world
he appeared:

full splendour with
a wry smile,
we fell to our knees while
others ran.

His wounds
oozed a fading power yet
sucked dry pleas that rode the east wind,
ripped thro' every meaningless notion
that bore a poison fruit.

For all those who believed

taken.

Gorged upon:

the last supper.

sympathy's symphony.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

The Dispossessed.

2007-05-03T23:36:00.001+01:00

Raging across the face
rivers of history,
fables furrowed
without voice

alone.

Secrets untold
preserved for the unborn,
heavy heart slows,
pauses one last time

stopped.

Clutched in hand
a piece of paper,
blank yet lined
controlled by naked eyes

hidden.

Empty lives court
the desolation,
the passive mind disintegrates,
lost are the tales

corroded.

'this english gothic.'

2007-04-06T17:20:00.000+01:00

Death is not the end
the final beginning..

one last journey
to repent,
wash away..

mend?

The sky opened up
cried for me,
laid out before my eyes

she lives forever
within me,

from my heart a single tear..

hangs low.

Autumn reds drown her face
my makeup slides,
blemished by a single note
a chord or two
played.

she fall's from grace
this audience her audition,
her hope
within my heart displayed
silk and lace

this english gothic
clutches his heart..

her soul.

From 'adagio' to 'fur elise'
an english gothic without sympathy
his symphony

fades.

The orchestra plays
tears drown my mood
captured by a single note,
a chord for two
played..

so alone
without you
my only hope.

The violins can't ease my ache
within the deep, dark black
this english gothic
torches his heart..

her soul.

This adagio
slow and soft takes hold
smothers me

silence unfolds.

Written are the words upon my stone..

''From his heart a single tear hangs low
with an autumn red upon the blade
this english gothic cried.

Now he is heaven made.''

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'paradise lost.'

2007-04-06T17:11:00.000+01:00

it’s here again
beginning of an end,
our trashcan whore
spills,
chokes on oblivion
terminal disease
the truth spread like
wild fire.

no thought nor guilt,
stripped
on mass,
for all she’s worth,
priceless,
humanities suicide.

nature watches
distraught,
through carbon filled gaze,
tied and gagged
she’s indiscriminately raped
to line the pockets of the human race:

earth's cancer.

the plague takes hold
digs deep for diamonds,
building upon building
every resource sucked dry,
running on empty,
gouging her very soul
with concrete and steel.

industrial crimes committed
puking vile rage into the sky,
acid rain
poisoning generations,
consumed by false education
leaving nothing
but an empty hope.

vengeance is nature’s end game
the hurricanes cleanse,
high tides will drown her pain,
ripping up all we’ve known
to late to run,
she’s coming to get us:

the guilt of mankind.

paradise lost.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'the end.'

2007-04-06T17:02:00.000+01:00

'resignation.'

2007-04-06T16:59:00.000+01:00

spin over an edge
into that sea,

innocence

where raindrops collide
teardrops explode
caught without a dream

implode.

a sweet luscious pain
to sooth those sorrow's,

come the summer
the heavens will cry,
tomorrow will have been and gone,
sanctuary for lost soul's

lost

no aurevoir,
just a permanent.

goodbye.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'An End Is Imminent.'

2007-04-06T16:47:00.001+01:00

Fear
our fuel,
desperation's billion's,
displayed within,
without hope
an urge to conform
contort
dissect,
distortion inflamed,
gift wrapped with a bow
kisses and all the best
a wish to freeze tears,
false feelings
of a not so whiter mind.

The hurt
lies within
unaware,
sentiment divine?

With truth lost
they won't oblige,
let us know
that all's not well,
the book's they burn
they'll never let go.

It'll cost the earth,
the truth of the matter
we are here

alien
viral
we are forgotten.

The drink
the drugs
a life of hell,
two days stand out

his birthday and mine.

Fake smiles
happiness pretends,
drunken
hallucinate,
trip to the abyss,
the revolution very late.

Hear me now,
vulnerable
realisation,

pray.

Our children can forgive us.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'script of the bridge.'

2007-04-06T16:36:00.001+01:00

she beckon’s you with open arms,
calling you, needing you to be true
true to yourself,
and without self belief it’s hard to refuse
her charm,
her warmth,
her untold wealth,
a welcome so divine
like a true friend,
indiscriminate as she gives a helping hand to end,
over her you go, one final time
(you know you should go home),
but within there’s a feeling so alive,
a rush so high to end it all

and as you fall
she takes you,
another lost soul
to call her own,

if only you could fly
upon the nights sky,
feel free from pain
as she calls your name,

the realisation as those lights fade
your hopes,
your dreams,
your desires cascade

and as she smiles she cries
as you scream you fade,

and once again,

she’s failed to save.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'jack.'

2007-04-06T16:26:00.000+01:00

A baby girl
her right’s diminished
from the day she was born
to the world of debauchery,

no thorn incrusted crown,
lifelong poverty
to learn a mothers trade

dirty.

Incapable of life’s luxuries,
twist
turn tricks
to lose her mind,

she will never know
her rightful place.

Down dark alleys
pennies for time,
close her eyes for the gentleman,
the fruit dampens her lips
she cries,

slumped
with fading regret
never to be met
as she flies.

Time does ooze
from her slight frame
as the shadow calmly walks away:

Jack - my friend, my foe,
the trojan horse
bearing gifts,
one bite
she’s licked,
good of the crown.

The opium stench
of the crack house,
absinth
laudanum

the ether
smothers an ill crowd,
unbeknown to all around
with a cackle
a howl,
the surgeon leaves his mark.

One by one they fell
over time
delicately spliced,
missing parts for posterity,
to tease
indulge,
clown around
for the price of a grape..

cheap

you may think?
at this time
richer than you could ever imagine,
beyond her wildest dreams
pleasure..

innocence
torn
vulgar.

His whiplash smile
with a flash of silver,
bounces the moonlight as he severs:

controlled
adept
not a sound

the love of the crown.

Do you believe in happy endings?

that fairytale gleam of the silver screen

for one little girl i never known,
there is it would seem:

a distant land,
peace
sanctuary

to live her life,
not the one she deserved

of palace’s,
queen’s and prince’s,
her rightful place
upon the throne:

murdered

by high society
as she was born
to a working mother,
who had her mind taken
locked away
ne’er to be seen again.

But jack who are you now?
the irony
of your ill fated delusions,
your own mind

now gone.

Sacrificed

for queen and country.

The price of infamy.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'new years day.'

2007-04-06T16:18:00.000+01:00

today
the first day?
rest of my life
so ‘they’ say..

down the street i go
not across it,
this isn’t a cry for help.

an end that must end
to finish what i’ve done,
end the pain of a broken man
of the human race
the virus i am..

the virus we all are,
can you see how i'm foiled again?

today
the last day?
my memories of life pass away
gouged.. by the wayside
world's apart,
divided by oceans
as the northern lights beckon.

can’t take this ride

no more.. not then, not now, not ever

down the street I go
to cross it is to fail,
a cry for something
i don’t quite know.

look within my eyes
you will see an empty space,
appetite gone belly full
waiting patiently
for my high,
a high to conquer you all

the crimson boils, it flows
ebbs away, the mind chatters..
endless. there is nothing more,

myself and i.. a broken mirror

my maker holds my hand
brushes my tears

takes me for who i am.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'numb.'

2007-04-06T16:05:00.000+01:00

see what i see
feel what i feel
hear what i hear
god doesn’t know..

thro’ the eyes of my ghost
souls lost
the horrors i keep
within this night so cold.

nowhere to roam
laid out bare
falling apart
a hunger to grasp an elders wisdom
those tears frozen to the bone
by Christ..

i have no fucking heart.

Christ..

i won’t bleed no more
so tired of scripture
verse

isolated,
confused by all others

i ain’t your fuckin' whore!

to see what i see
to feel what i feel
to hear what i hear
god could never know.

in an instant
my son..

i will take you with me

down the barrel of a gun.

© 2007 Michael J. Earnshaw

'bleeding moors.'

2007-04-06T15:41:00.000+01:00

Nightmare echoes
poignant
potent,
the surreal march
relentless,
crawling through my mind.

Shards of innocence,

Pauline
John
Keith.

Lesley Ann
and
Edward..

exhumed, all but one.

42 years, 8 months and 14 days late,
whispers of children,
slaughtered
taunting the unknown,
every orifice concealed
aching for the actuality
of events long dead.

Mind padded
protected from all i know,
sunken treasure buried deeper
than all of gods answers.

Hazy gaze eludes sanity
no matter how i fit the pieces,
lines distort, dance
mock and tease
talking, talking
yet say nothing at all.

So many little voices
velvet sooth,
fermenting to gibberish,
calling my name
tone changing every day.

Howling at the moon
i seek solace,
lines cut up
powdered white,
iced vodka easing me
to a beggars paradise,
fading memories
of what i might have done.

There’s no escape
fearing death,
when witnessed at it’s most horrific:

stunned silence
shattered the stillness,
my boy splayed as bones
ragged doll
dismembered
then
torched.

His innocence
inoculated,
face contorted,
the final scream perpetuated for posterity:

i alone listen

hear his beat upon the brazen breeze,
following me to my alcoholic

drug induced grave.

© 2007 (2nd march.) Michael J. Earnshaw

'the undeserved end.'

2007-04-06T15:17:00.000+01:00

the rain..

the rain lashes down upon my weary head,
soothes
takes
drowns

what i’ve always said,
this death
creeps
into my sunken bed.

swirling
dreams
capture my desires,
a calm so violent
catches my lonely breath,
held forever
is this it

the undeserved end?

before i’ve slept,
wept
or even dreamt
is this all i’ve got to send?

colours fade

suffocate
obscure,

ambers form the embers of my heart..

the irony

tonight of all nights
when i need it most

life.

i feel it
choking

fading fast.

swirling
nightmares
capture my desires,
a calm so violent
catches my last thought,

held forever
this is it,

the undeserved end.

i’ll sleep
never weep
again
nor dream

forever
sleep.

the rain..

the rain lashes down upon my weary head,
always soothes,
takes
drowns

what i’ve always said
this death
creeps
into my sunken bed.

run to my side

gone..

alone..

my undeserved end.

{sympathy's symphony.2007.(orig1994.)}