Published in Great Britain in 2011 by C J Hollins Copyright © C J Hollins 2011 The rights of C J Hollins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, stored in a retrieval system or marketed for commercial gain in any form or by any means, without the categorical permission being given in writing by the author.

 

LIKE CASTING OFF AN OLD SKIN

my soul forsakes me

and escapes me

and I am left

with only the dried membrane

of my desires

withering in the unbearable heartache of life.

 

YOUR SOUL WAS SO CLEAN

and pure

but life has abused and deformed you

and now you die within me.

Fading away

day after day

because you have learned to consume all you loved.

 

I HATE YOU.

You who used me and threw me aside

like an old garment

to be walked and trodden into the earth.

I nourished you

and gave you life

and now that I am old and decaying

you desert me.

 

THEY MURDERED HER.

They ripped her from within

and threw her onto a mettle tray.

Her little soul

with beautiful flesh so pure and smooth

was blackened and charred

by the fires greed.

 

WITH ALL MY HEART AND SOUL I LOVED YOU

but you are leaving me.

Drifting away through every breath I make.

I feel so helpless

knowing you will soon be gone

and all that will remain for me

will be withered skin.

 

FIRST BIRD SINGING

saves me from a sleepless night.

I surface from solitary struggling

in ruffled sheets

that had dragged me deeper

and deeper

towards oblivion.

I rise into a darkened room

amidst the faint brightening of a new day.

 

THE SKIN OF THE SOUL

is not the flesh of the body.

It is a gossamer and tender thing

to the caressing of the mind.

A translucent membrane made of a million feelings

struggling for love and desire

and hope.

The skin of the soul is a beautiful thing

glimpsed through tenderness with a hash uncaring world.

 

SUCCUBUS COMES TO ME

in darkness.

Lying on my back

her nakedness straddles me

like a rider upon a horse.

I convulse and, with arms outstretched,

I claw at the sheets

as we journey across a land

built from the memories of lust and longing

that you have left me to endure in loneliness.

At first light only the stained sheets remain

from her calling.

 

LIKE A DRIED LEAF

upon a vine I wait to fall.

I gave you all the sweet grape of my heart

that I nourished with my love for you.

And you took it all away.

You left me to wither and die

and only memories remain in the insobriety of the deep red liquid I drink alone.

All that time together in sunlight and rain has now gone.

What remains is but an unbearable awareness that I have lost you.

THE ASPHYX OF A CAT

moves from my side into the night.

Silent and unseen

he prowls with eyes that see as light within the darkness.

He senses for a queen

to stab with his barbed phallus of pain.

I hear the chill air fill with cries

of spiteful venom and the howling

from an ancient ritual of animal desire.

I lie listening in my dark room

and, as the silence of the night returns,

I wait and watch the open window for his return.

 

INCUBUS CAME TO HER in her sleep.

Her sounds awoke me as he began to seduce her

and I found I could only listen in the darkness.

she writhed and convulsed as he imposed his will over her

and, as I lay trapped and unable to move,

the curtains billowed in the gentle breeze.

Their patterns, traced by moonlight upon the ceiling of the room,

danced to her whimpers of desire.

 

PRIMAL DANCE begins

As the moon looms

Pregnant with silver light

Casting stretched shadows

Across the arena

The masks watch each other

Waiting for the first move

 

Take me, take me down

Arms rising and falling

Gathering momentum

Feeling an inner call

A rhythm beyond reason

Engulfs me

With a carnal reverberation

 

The cocks are up

The endless chanting begins

From unseen voices

Wanking in the darkness

They watch my body from afar

Lusting in dust and heat

 

FLAYED ANGELS live in shadows

Their faces stripped of flesh

With eyes that shimmer

Waiting

The heat of day away

They sense torrid air

Intensifying with unworthy haste

To carry them

Soaring on scourged wings

Towards azure salvation

In piety

 

IN DAYLIGHT

When all is unquestionably bright

We struggle

On a globe in day and night

Certain of all we see

Masters of apparent certainty

We consume and use

But In twilight

When things are not so clear

We sense an ancient feeling

That resides

In a shadow of fear

For how little of the light reveals

Of the unknown

Surrounding us

 

WORDS once of love

Turned to spite

Tenderness transformed Into bile

Feelings once of heart

Turned to mind

Chemistry consumed

Into discharge

Sounds once of vowing

Turned to anger

All is ravaged

You bitch

 

ABOVE THE POUNDING SHORE

I watched the sea birds hover,

twenty of more,

crabbing right, rising on turbulent air

with no need for powered flight.

Just a side slip to nurture the lift

over cambered wing,

avoiding the down-draft behind their aerial ballet,

for a second a webbed foot for drag,

to check the force of wind.

 

Perfect intuitive reactions

inherent from the past,

the genetic recall of impulsive response,

expressed through instant knowledge of the air.

Calling to warn of encroachment of space,

crabbing left, crabbing right,

the twenty of more,

no radar here,

just cries above the pounding shore.

 

SETTLING

The tide settles pebbles

They line a beach

In perfect organised form

Largest at the back

Smallest at the front

If the oceans have purpose

It is but cause and effect.

 

The earth settles living things

They swarm everywhere

Forming into perfect organisation

The hunters become few

And the hunted are many

To give equilibrium

But is it cause and effect?

 

Complexity unfolds

And everything settles into order

As the Earth has settled around the sun

And the stars have settled into galaxies

In the Universe

A balance is born of chaos

 

FORSAKEN

In a corner for the forlorn

she rests her ageing form.

An artist's inner mind etched in telling line.

Her clothing speaks of no longer caring

as she watches

the passing by.

 

Scented by linseed and turpentine

partnered with abstinence

as she draws another lonely page of vigil.

The woman that was has gone

and she watches

the passing by.

 

I longed to come to know her

As she sketched for a coin or two

to give me knowledge of what she had gone through.

And, for a moment I imaged

she was watching

my passing by.

 

A room empty and unloved

told of a missing child

and a long lost lover in an image that had soiled.

And, as I lay beside her, I glimpsed in the eyes

her knowing I was passing by.

 

THE DEVIL'S SHROUD

 

Scarred upon a veil

The twisted cloth betrayed

An engraved dark stain

Of terrible design

 

A cipher of what had been

Outlined by discolour

Patterned with pain and suffering

Endured in descent

 

Lucifer's very mark

Abandoned upon Earth

Soiling a finest weave

From whence he arose

 

To walk amongst us unseen

A shadow within our desires

Structured within immorality and sloth

For those who heed his call

 

His followers have kept

Hidden in vaulted darkness

That no good eyes should see

A discarded veil of evil

 

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