Pellets for Swallows and Pike

Watch Death and bands of dying;
the bird stutters in the dust
the wolf sings into darkness,
and rabbits charge into the hood
like drunks on holy orders.
But the fly is most game
in its shroud,
when it drops like a punch to oak
and kicks on fire,
as its wings like chainsaws on its spine
grow slowly still in laps...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

Kung Fu/Bamboo Kiss

Power to satchel eye master
as the jigsaw ballet trips
to orders of the mandolin,
razor muscle super shield.
Mystic tricks from mortals
blow away feeble poseurs.
Let justice be done
before an audience of gentle dragons
in this beautiful manicured
sober art...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

Daffodil In Ice Melted By Night

Summer crocodile wallow
in blood poses,
the children of Falstaff
love danger.
Wander on through green tipped lanes
toward butter and string music
and simmer as the sun
turns misery into cider chrome.
Yellow stalk raise the damp!
Disease has no patrol in cinder gardens
bonnetted by foxgloves,
the razor machine has no mascot here,
where gentleman die at night
cracked by the weight
of a bloated moon...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

B.I.D (Beautiful In Dying)

The horizon
sharp as scarab spines
hides a coil of clouds
beneath its green and thirsty belt,
but small is the slew approaching
compared to the wild ways of sinew.
A crazy mess of bones
holding death in human form
like a dreamcatcher woven from skin.
Glutton the air until the last rattle,
then give up to Azrael
with sober spirit
and ribcage neatly folded...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

Get Your Finger Out Of My Shoe

Step out of my shadow baby flower,
go rest in chocolate cradles
because I am a blood wasted street boy,
a fiend, a fisherman of dirty stories
where light is long forgotten.
Memories suffer in this brain damage,
only vandal actions remain.
Go dance on rainbows some place else,
go plant happy sticks in merry sunshine
and raise the dollars there.
I want nothing save my pretty circus
and golden sleeves,
a bed of bat skin
to lay the nightmares.
Damaged goods stay beautiful,
theres no fun in California smiles or hymns,
these eyes want gore,
lots of merry gore and tragedy.
Praise indeed to guld thugs, blades and heroin...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

Bald Light (On/Off)

Boiled suits
lined up on Domino road,
aware of nothing but stagnant fantasy
and jaded kids.
Straight backed for the kill
like black goats on cheap wine,
you have it all played out
yet hold nothing in those blistered claws.
The chase of the dream
blinds like froth in a beer glass
but the hangover is deadly,
blowing hearts to the size of shopping trolleys
and keeping them from honesty.

Dull is the strolling wax work afraid of fire,
there are no escapes on that road.
Fear doesn't leave too many footsteps
on the minotaur,
but often leaves Man caged by letterboxes
and Sunday afternoons.
The boozers and perverts
have all the answers,
their gods lead them through broken hearted capers
to a sincere wisdom not seen in city windows.
Honour and trust come from cell blocks
or tiny roadside kennels,
away from the marble cold of church pews
where monster hunts for monster...

@Steven Francis poems 2009

Aluminium Thorns Sunk Like Teeth In Mildew

I am cold hearted thorn
of many faces
and where muscle is plenty I grow,
fall to me thin as a rapier
swollen fairy on my spider legged boughs.

There is little comfort
on seas of anaesthesia
where blood is as curdled as milk.
Laughter cowers in delirious shadows
and bone turns frail like silk.

Tongue in silence
clad roughly in white,
fat with water but dry from drugs.
Taste vinegar sweat on sunken cheeks
before a shroud becomes a blanket of mud.

The mess of death
with vulgar stains
lurks in crisp white creases of gore.
Parade the sick on rubber stilts
la maquina del amor.

But peace can fall
upon the murder fields
and dust grisly tics away,
because suffering is just another face
on a different kind of day.

There lies hidden maps
beneath the surface,
beyond the reach of lipstick and gold.
Sink into the arms of light
where brittle hearts grow bold...

@Steven Francis poems 2009