One grey morning before a moon,

The people came to cry

‘Visit our home today green man’

And built a house up high.

Lets scrub and clean the house they said,

It shines above the rest;

Unlock the doors and vent the rooms,

Make sure he sees the best.

Today at last the green man comes,

With smiling face and beard;

Greet him so he may stay with us,

And feed us corn and curd.

Take care so he may see our house,

But don't talk with his guests;

His entourage are animals,

Pretending like the rest.

Now he will cast the old man out,

He’ll stop the cold and dew;

Take care the dust is swept and gone,

Or who knows what he’ll do.

We pray the green one stays to dine,

We hope he plans to sleep;

For when the green one must depart,

The children wail and weep.

Yet now the hour is growing late,

The green man has not come;

The house is built and meals are made,

But much is left undone.

The people start to gnash their teeth,

They look around in shame;

The green one turned away from them,

And they know who to blame.

The villains and curs made it so,

They’ll feel the cage of wood;

And so the flames will be the judge,

To sift the bad from good.

In their white robes they dance and sing,

All just to reach his ears;

And yet he still does not arrive,

So all are filled with tears.

The days are growing shorter now,

And people blame their kin;

They offer up their babes and berns,

So harvest might begin.

Down to rivers and lakes they float,

The place they do not care;

For the green one will take them all,

And keep them in his lair.

Their things they burn and prayers they sing,

They hope that he will hear;

But leaves turns brown and water black,

Still he does not appear.

When cold returns and rivers freeze,

The folk begin to starve;

And so they start to feast themselves,

With knives they cut and carve.

The last ones walk up to the house,

And beg for a reproach;

But in the distance see a man,

Now starting to approach.

The green man comes to see the house,

But does not smile or nod;

He only stands watching the bones,

That lie there in the mud.

He does not stop to greet the ones,

Who wait for a response;

He only stares then turns his back,

Not saying what he wants.

They had all hoped that he’d choose them,

That they would be the one,

But now he knew them not at all,

Or what they had become.

If you should see the same green man,

Outdoors or in the wood;

Tell him his children wait there by,

His house where he once stood.

Pygmalion stared at his rough hands.

What if he loved them more than he did Galaetia herself?

She was more perfect than flesh could ever be.

But his hands that gave her life may yet betray him.

No matter how strong his love he could never bear her paragon.

His bloody hands stared back at him.

And cried out to be released from their burden.

A stranger in darkness once lost in the night.

In a desert found an oasis of light.

By pools that shone bright and tall white trees that glow.

He sat for a while and watched bright water flow.

One drink from its depths and the world fades away.

The stranger forgot how to tell night from day.

He slept there and dreamt awful dreams of black sand.

Then stayed until stars stayed away from the land.

He woke then to find the spring now filled with guests.

Who laughed and played games like children with no rest.

The stranger asked them what place could be so bright.

They said you are in the oasis of light.

He ate and played games with the guests for so long.

Who laughed with their throats and indulged him in song.

The stranger then woke and footsteps tried to find.

But searching he found that his eyes were now blind.

He stumbled and wept as his vision was black.

And crawled on all fours just to find his way back.

He called out to the guests asking what he had done.

They said "all you had to do was wait for the sun."

I cannot live in any home for long before it becomes rubble.

Food turns to ashes in my mouth and I cause pain to those close to me.

Others turn to me only when they have no choice but they fear my presence. They keep me caged and alone.

Every day I am banished and then called on again.

They need me but they know that when their backs are turned, I will take everything away from them.

Narcissus stares into the water

A beautiful face rushes up to meet him

Beckoning him to drink deeply

He cups his hands and drinks

The water tastes like children’s tears

He drinks and drinks until his belly is full

But stop he cannot

The water is too sweet and too pure

Narcissus looks into the mirror

Looking into a face he does not recognise

The water fills his heart and veins

He no longer breathes air

He exists only in the water

Looking at his hands they become clear

His skin fading in colour

How strange he thinks

Our face reflected at us never seems our own

It is only when the pieces lie broken and separated

That we see who we really are

A turn of the stars I would give just to stare into the mirror she keeps;

Reflecting it shines until I am turned to stone.

All movement is gone;

The world stops and I am entombed and sunken.

But the water down here is warm;

The air above is now nothing but memory.

Even if I drown I would rather stay here;

For if my breath is gone, my soul will walk in front of me.

Knowing it will be at peace.

Sometimes with my other,

I close my eyes and let my shadow do the talking.

My mouth can rest while it speaks for me,

Only she can see it.

Because she has stolen a piece of my shadow,

She keeps it hidden away in her gilded box.

Sometimes when she speaks,

I can see it there.

Hidden away.

The further away I go, the stronger it pulls me back.

It pulls upwards, left and right,

Filling me with lightness.

So great that if I jumped too high I would float like a leaf in a storm.

My shadow feels invulnerable in her care.

I wear it like a suit of armour,

Over my bulletproof heart.

A life-raft in a stormy sea.

I know she will keep it safe.

And that,

Even if one day.

She returned it to me.

I would always remember who it really belonged to.

White peaks I try to climb,

On an old path, my swift shoes take me.

Past broken teeth and smothered grass,

Searching for my journey’s end.

Along the way, I battle,

Torrents of rain and hail.

Clouds of woe and bliss,

They assail me and then depart.

To give me strength,

I hold my shining golden heart.

Further, I climb,

I must walk blindly.

But gaping pits await,

I hold my golden heart and scurry.

Past clouds and peaks,

Hope my only guide.

Upon the summit now,

Surrounded by light and fields.

I breathe new air.

But there to my right stands a blacksmith hammering away.

I approach and to my surprise,

Find on his anvil.

A beaten and wrought iron heart,

Waiting for me.

Now the smith holds out his hand,

Smiling.

So I reach one last time,

For my shining golden heart.

And pick up the new,

Now he smiles and nods.

Slowly I turn to go back,

Back down the mountain.

With my swollen beating heart.

Though I cannot see your body

Your spirit is always with me

Both my enchantress and my muse

It is always by my shoulder

Whispering in my ear

Every decision I make

Every time I smile or cry

I see it there smiling or crying with me

When it touches mine I feel whole

When I cannot hear your words

I look around and always find your spirit beside me

When the world outside is broken

My spirit clings to yours

In our own world we fly together

My spirit taker

All I need is to close my eyes

Let all the shapes and sounds disappear

Where will you lead me my spirit taker?

What dreams await the two of us?

I am alone with you in that world

In that place where nothing else exists but our essence

No other feeling or experience

No beauty except for your eyes and smile

Until we fly far away from our bodies

And leave the whole world far behind

Oh my devotee

What a deadly weapon you wield

To make my body dance and spin

When you look at me

All my skin shatters into pieces at your feet

My insides spill onto the floor like milk

Lapped up by straight-haired dogs

At your bidding, I am turned into liquid and air

For to dance your dance I need more than skin and flesh

Sometimes we run together through the wind

Until the ground vanishes beneath our feet and we fall

Like children laughing at the air

How I am animated by you

Made of brushstrokes painted by your gaze

Limbs pierced with a mesh of your moulding

What a gift it is to be so captured

Free to run across the world with you

While others look on in envy

On our never-ending journey

Every hill and cave we climb together

We climb until my bones burn inside and out

When we stop to rest I stand watch for you

Like a statue dissolving under years of rain

A melted figure stands up for me

For I would wait a million years for my devotee

When the light is in her eyes

I let her devour every piece of me

I let her burn me on her wreath of fire

Suddenly light erupts from my eyes and mouth

It forces its way out through my body

Through the tips of my fingers

Let her take it all and keep it for me

Morph it into what she wills

But when the light is gone

I see her in all her vulnerability

Just a person like any other

With a shy smile and doleful eyes

Though her power over me is so great

Inside her thunder, she is a small girl with sweet smiles

Who really wanted nothing from me but a warm heart

And someone to always protect her from the world

So I let my tears fall

And let her slip into my arms

In your garden, I plant a seed,

An acorn sprouting twigs and weed.

When it grew inside its form I saw,

An eye, a mouth, an ear, a maw.

Tomorrow’s morn it grown I found,

A sapling planted in the ground.

Leaves that sought the warmth and light,

A form so thin it shrieked in fright.

One day more firm leaves have grown,

That planted seedlings of their own.

Its branches flailing in the cold,

It seeks a dance, a hand to hold.

A place without the rain and snow,

No pain or hurt where it can go.

One day more in those green hands,

In place of grass, a forest stands.

But on that morn, you find an axe,

And chop them down with cuts and whacks.

A next day more upon that earth,

An oaken house of wealth and mirth.

A fire within a home without,

A place where people sing and shout.

And years that pass they come and fade,

Memories both have ever made.

A spark of warmth never to part,

A message buried in the heart.

And on that last day in my palm I see,

An acorn staring back at me.

The orange orb kisses the lips of a glass horizon.

Two strangers find themselves adrift on a raft.

Their raft is pulled along by an unseen current.

Battered left and right by storms and waves.

They long for clear days of calmer skies and no rain.

Dark shapes pass them in the torrent.

Sometimes they touch a sandy shore.

Their hands drifting over once familiar shapes.

Feeling them crumble beneath their fingers, they say;

“What were you whose forms I once knew?”

But finding only sand they return.

And look ahead at the ever clearer horizon.

The current grows brighter and darker as the orb passes over.

When the river widens, they forget what the land even looked like.

Sometimes they see other raft bearers,

Some drift, some call for help, some forge ahead.

Some simply sit and stare at the current, refusing to go on.

“Where do we need to go in such a hurry?” They say.

But try as they might, the waters pull them all forward.

All are soon lost in their own streams.

The strangers remember when their arms were so weak they could barely steer the raft.

But now it comes as naturally as breathing.

They have learned to love the ebb and flow of the tide.

In each other's arms they watch it together.

Watching so many things drift past.

Faces, colours, sounds, and feelings all float by.

No one knows where the current goes.

But there is no way to turn back against it.

All they can do is stare into the great horizon,

Sitting together, and watching it flow past them.