Reckless 

Full house 

Ace of clubs

In the streets and on the bus

Lightning fired from hearts

Speed frothing at the mouth

Rooted in the deepest pit of the minds 

My word are they crazy?

Hitting, smashing, raging 

Expending dangers like apples thrown against you

One might hurt

They have hillsides full of this 

Rage filled apples

To throw 

Arrived by their inhumanity 

Furiously battled 

Curing all down 

Like helpless cattle

Hated by 

Thinking gone

Nothing but rage 

Till the moment they stop 

Sadness then comes like a 

full stop

Requiem for a restaurant 

piles of grey half washed pots and pans

concrete walls and sterile tile floors
Little blue things in a shelf

Shel of the former place
You would sit on the coner table

Order the usual and sit in comfy conformity 
It’s your usual time 

Your usual place and age
They walk past as your drink arrives 

And stares into see you 
Smiles, hugs, kisses? Not today.

Hide that disappointment 

Earnings are new, red pinpoints
Always orders something they have to tried yet

You know that’s how it always went
More smiles, laughter and food

Smells so great

Order wines to match the drapes?
Your have not always been sad

Empty as you are now 
This place was like a home

A member of the family and it said things so quietly
You only just noticed when they put up the prices

It didn’t seem so full of or on the go
You came anyway to meet your bo

Smiles always now, kisses you adore 
Until today’s grimy discovery 

Piles of half washed pots and pans 
Your handprint leaves a mark on the window

You message a new place to linger 
Little things that you remember is all that’s left

Until that day you forget

Dragon Princess Love

                 Hi 
                  I 
                  ss 
                 She 
                Kings  
               Daughter  
             Fire scales 
             Warm touch 
            Don’t prickle 
             warm snake 
            Gentle caress 
            Silky smooth 
           Clothing falls  
             beyond my  
             Breasts an  
             Little tiny 
               Tongue 
             Long tines 
           Tickling touch 
           Around a-re-ola 
         I take my turn too 
        Stroke her feathers 
        Softness it defined  
        Down her back from 
        Her head they have 
       Made a trail. For my 
      Fingers slowly follow  
      Every vane, rachis by 
      Its downy roots. They 
      Shiver at every little  
       Touch as I reach down
        Her   bottom   curls   
         Tiny   downy  bits 
          Mixed  with  the  
           Exquisite blue  
            Shiny   scale  
             entranced  
              As her  
               head 
               Turns                     . 
                Her                    -in 
                 Tail                   Jo 
                 Wraps             We 
                     Around      And 
                           My waist 
              

Hammersmith. Chapter thirty five 

Viss was in her dream world. She recognized it immediately. A wide blue ocean was to her left. To her right a huge brown cliff-face. The brown sand below her. This wasn’t real. This beach didn’t even exist anymore. She knew instantly that she was asleep. Her right arm was really their. It’s gone. Long replaced by its cybernetic replacement.
She could watch this dream. She could see what happens next. She could re wound herself. No. She would not let it hurt her again.
Instantly she was in her bedroom. Not awake. Her arm was still their. She moved it around. In reality her cybernetic arm was on the bedside table. Awaiting her to attach it again. In her dreams it was real though. Real. 
She remembered the day she learned what reality was. Her lecturer in the Psychology of Life and Death described it.
Suddenly she was in the room. Lecture hall 221, Yale University. She’s doing her Bachelors here then her masters. This is the hardest class. It’s all about coming to know your own flaws. Viss knew hers like a old friend. Her arm hurts. The cancer treatment has been unsuccessful. They were going to remove it just after the end of term. 
The blue moon chairs with 20 students on them were all glued to Professor Pandemelon. His thick green glasses, hiding the only bits of skin on his face not covered with hair.
“Death. I’m afraid isn’t as clear to those who have not yet had to face the prospect of their own death. You have to imagine your own death to confront your fears. Your feelings. Then, and only then, can you come back and say to those who you will eventually treat how to deal with it.
Of course those that have had a constant presence of death in their lives, will instead face, inevitably, the fear or prospect of living.”
Viss knew just then that Pandemelon was talking directly to her. He knew about her cancer. How it had only affected her right arm. How it didn’t spread but was growing into the rest of her arm. Eventually it would spread to her chest. Her lungs. Her heart. Killing her. Between now and then she had to choose. Take her arm loss as a well as she could or choose to die. 
Pandemelon knew she was having second thoughts about the surgery. He was a really good psychologist. He was able to tell, and then give her words that helped. He just looked at her in his seat in his office and soloemly said.

“Viss, you will die. Every one does. I’m going to die one day. I’m going to be hopefully old and grey and have had enough when that day comes. You can die too. Today. Tomorrow. It’s scary. It’s full of doubt. It’s like big dark door you can’t see through. 
You have a choice though. For now. Sometimes we don’t. But you do. I’m not going to tell you directly what to choose. I’m just going to let you know that I’m not going to be disappointed what you choose. Your dark door, or to switch the light on. Both are full of more fears, bravery, choices, and you are at the moment choosing between them. Okay? 
You are a wonderful student and I have always admired the way you have tackled your flaws and are applying your skills. I’m going to tell you though I’m recommending you for the fast track masters program. The world needs more people like you to look after it. Especially after the Incident.”
It was at the point that both these conversations merged into one in her mind. A glowing light to her dark. 
Viss chose to live. The Cancer can get fucked.

Grasshoppers flags 

Down by the course dirt lane

The hard presence of the pebbles 

Cutting the hot sun baked grasses 

It’s grasshopper, working to raise the littlest flags 

His tiny little empty empire has hard times

Drought and floods,  growth and death 

They both come as a hash brown 

Sand wasps and birds seek him out

Each with a different evil agenda 

If either are successful his empire ends

Nothing left but his little flags

To be rotted out next flood

Or burned by a forever sun 

Grasshopper has to raise his flags

To bring a mate

Will his family be a reality?

Shaking 

Catatonic movement Shackled by the place

Ties between the astral and me

Moving dead weight beyond my body 

Shawn and cut and thrust by madness

Deafening beeps from their teeth
Cost shouting men

Price gouging meat

Blood draining from my neck

No one can see me

I’m just a pawn

Waiting to be sacrificed 
Dreams are a solution but also a problem 

A twisted labrynth of demons and angels

Shadows eat me and sleep cannot be me

Claws thrusting from the maw
She snakes on my shapes and shadow my deathbed 

I’m dark and cut up on the places

I’m trapped on this table
Cables and writing 

Fables and lighting

Feisty and angry and blank 
I’m myself and not

I’m going through knots

Down and down and down 

Demons on the Moon

Listen to that screech Hell is about to be unleashed 

Silver death comes to those who are not prepared 

Nightmares born of dusty dreams 

I cannot think to compare
Beyond, beyond, our reach

Demons reign in caverns deep

Black smoke rising. Stench arcrid ensnare 

Step on skulls full of grimy discusting things

A world beyond me doesn’t seem to care
Listening and hiding in this shadow

I’m very sure I’m being drawn to be like them 

Marrow and blood flow from my skin bare

Pick my pistol up

Shoot them, shoot them

I’m sure your going through the same flair