Love is the drug

heart-drugs

Love is the drug I hear them say
Can I get it in a tablet or a nasal spray?
Love is the drug and it’s messing with my brain
Your detox did today but I’ll backslide again

Let me get caned in your cuddles
Do a gram of wet-eye-stares?
Or maybe try some methalove;
Warm and close but not as scary?

Love is the drug, light afterglow
My shot in the arm, your ultimate dose
My sweet narcotic of nuzzling necks
A sure-fire hit for knock-out sex

Love is the drug
The balm
The pain
Our tearing loss
Our need to do it again

From the soaring highs of love’s hot fix
Where blood rushes blindly inciting my psychosis.
We lie it’s forever. I believe it’s what hurts.
An infinite comedown and it’s aching our hearts.

 

143

Lying, cheating
thieving swines’.
Stole my life –
then broke my mind!

Caught my soul
and watched it shatter
Loaned my love for life,
to batter!

First they broke me!
Then they raped me:
Doubled back
and swiped my money!

My friend butchers –
beggars all!
Stole my brightness
killed my soul.

Those dawns you dance for
where loves eye might see,
leaves nothing to cry for,
still loving you greatly

Sad Tears

Tears drop hotly from cheeks
They run down
Dry before they reach the ground
A store of tears built up o’er weeks

Dressed in coats dragged fresh from the streets
Worn bare
Reveal a heart so rare
Cold golden heart mired in defeats

Through windows high in walls
Open to sky
The saddest song drifts by
On cold hearts sits the saddest song of all.

Lost Girl

Worldly lonely
This girl caught sadly
Bleeds and crying
Drawn from lightness

It’s her light
She’ll quit tonight
In this quilt of night
Her last flight

So she goes
Good girl gladly
No one misses
Or asks where she goes

Sweet short

Here she sits a lady truly blue
Sweet heart lays in her lap for you
She whispers some sweet treat in time
And blurs the lines of your afternoon

Like something is wrong
In the tune in her song
Like something has left
She has sung it so long

She’s your silent Dido – carved of stone
Living in a life you dreamed was blown
As shadows stretch and rise and die
Your night lights with her white-rose tone

[revisited from Dec 2012]

O

image: Jean-Jacques Henner, words: Bujonswords

image: Jean-Jacques Henner, words: Bujonswords

Musical Dawn

When that Black thatch
with them Blue eyes
shook the old cat
out of White lies:
Swiftly all the noise
of morning broke.

And this Grey crowd
full of Red heads
caught great Pink clouds
‘cross their cold beds…
And it dawned on!

Then tears soaked each side
and washed all colours clean
bleaching each bright with pride
– shining through what they mean:
Only the Gold sun left reflections
on this gory scene.

Lost for words

lost for words

image: http://rustyage.deviantart.com/art/Faceless-478167007,

words: Bujonswords

Sirens

There’s too many sirens today my love
Screeching through our lives
Too many sirens for me my love
in the quiet of my thoughts
Pounding brashly down doors
I don’t know if I can now take anymore.

There’s sirens for the dying love
Alarm bells for the young
I hear shrill whines for thieves love
Them that broke up your morn’
Fished out your heaving pump
Leaving us here to mourn

So here as we wait for the silence
Still shook at this loss of amour
I’m shattered
Each time by more sirens
And left, cracking up on the floor.

Duet

Light up the night
when you bring what is right
to the back of this slight
blood location
Go on light
shine so bright
This your light in my slothen night

Mine was this music
Your laughing made me sick
The tunes which I’d trick
For your tuneless ears

The scribbles of music
A mix and rewrite script
This music you hated
Your light saw me blind
I can’t play
Pluck the way
Not the way that you wanted thru’ day

This is our failing
your light and my wailing
for a tempo regarded by most
as absurd
Let us finish
this sour dish
A time to replenish and go our own way

Song from the shops

Juices
Pears
and crazy airs-of-graces
Slew my love
so quick, to call her dead!
Culled so young
and cruelly filled with fluid…
Slid to death –
the slide was in her head.

Olden

Injections of objective retention,
recondite, a bile-like-ripe lifer.
Can profane living
give rise to oblivion?
Give re-issuing license to losers?

Outstanding, derivative pleasurer
found lighting the end of a fuse:
Warnings abounded about her
moreover land closed in around her!
Still silence in mind,
expletives well timed,
I’d rather live lightly than longer…

A moaning most maudlin disgruntler
caught slinking and loudly around me.
These sorry sad Sinbads,
these bored boring bastards.
All fellow food-fighters forever!

The Whealing Nature of Time

Warm as love – blood spurts from the fresh flesh wounds of cancers fading shadows! As sharply as the bones of my belief shattered a year ago, so my dreams of idylls splinter freely today. Here, like the glove too tight for comfort (stretches clean and webs in yellow), memories of fun cling longingly to the curves of my lightless brain.

So it is, here among my playful shadows, the blisters of yesterdays scratching; the flake of my worn-dry skin, prove achingly alien to any tender caress… Painfully barren of others touch or kiss, just sore from neglect. Where else could my thoughts wear down such sumptuous solitude? Long since forgotten, left to scar – somehow free through these peels of skin, transparent as the wafer-thin meat itself. Myself!

I am left only with the memories of pain (which hurts more?). So in this ache of reminiscence, and the lurch to escape, time (heavy as my eyelids) hammers out the tune of our minute and ticks me reeling into the arms of my tomorrow.

Memoirs

I rode, one day, in summer
to the house where she was found.
The lawn was high from growing;
tall grass hushed me all around.

Windows, light and open,
bade my wary body in,
and that door (once black and solid)
graced my entry with its grin.

On the well-bleached floor,
still stains of blood sang red and proud,
stenches rank and pungent
forced my lungs to whinge aloud.

Where the log fire once warmed
was now a pit of fears,
as I walked about that friendly room
I could not dam my tears.

Once bright curtains – long and green –
would soak salt spies away.
Alas no grown-up hand
would draw drapes from my eyes today.

I sat for minutes,
hearing every creak and squeak and drip,
whilst in my head the flood of thoughts
got all my brain to rip!

So as my new blood mixed with hers,
all gushing through my nose,
my last thoughts were of how we change –
how quick dead memory grows.

I left so slow and choked up
that I found a memory then,
and though I try and halt it,
still flows freely – from this pen.

Broads House

Waiting for impatience

Such dedication from so many stars and this medication to stick up their arse how full and engaging the mighty play lights entertaining ideas that take most of the night. Where musical reasons take second seats back for the cat thieves and bread men who smell their attack! Well late and unstable a morbid curl comes rolling eyes wide and licking air just as well… Oh! Too late indeed for your eye-licking frenzy and caught by a lash these tears painfully leave.

Questions of oral tormentors

One by one you break me down
Call my bluff wreak havoc around
Dish my dirt
Break my heart
Calamitous felon
Where have I left, to start?

Oh great red mouth so close to death
Why my heartache each jibe you jest?
Every breath your voice emits
Falls
Through candour
Drenched in shit!

From where do your great statements spring?
Lost reality (or let it free?)
So stuck just west of truth you craze
Lost and circling in your own wasted maze
Even my coarse questions fail
Why am I asking?
Who cares at all?

Sore

My sore friend
His heart
It stuck in her throat
Sad day
She cried, he lied
He cried they tried
Poor sore pal
Lost hope
No dope
Got gal, oh how!
Drops fall
And rolling off sour cheeks
The tracks tears leave
Dry slow

Veil

“Get down
you let down!
Please, just let us be!”
Is the caustic
retort they shall
once lie on me.
My whimsy all worn out –
bravado expired.
It’s the last blunt remark
as the rest of all’s fired.

“Get back
you sad sack!”
With a cringing retreat,
thus, I’m sacked
through their tongue
swiftly licked
to defeat.

red onion slice

red onion

Small Talk

photo: Snapr on flickr.com

Why for do you cry?
Asked the plant to the fly
and please do not lie –
I shall know, but not why!

I cry for the Sun
cried the fly to the one
who had posed it this pun,
Am I crying for fun?

But that Sun is a treat
it makes my scent this sweet
and gives you all the heat
which you need when you eat!

I know you are right –
and I now shall take flight;
for I cry for the light
that will go come the night.

Do shed no more tears,
here’s a cap for your fears:
Why tomorrow, fly dear,
that same sun reappears!

I know that my petal –
and the sun, moon, et al
will be hear at your call
but by then I’m no more.