D.D. had a way of saying nothing
even matters with
a deadening smile.


it tried to pry its teeth out by the rotting
spongy mouldy gums
to see if it cried.


the blood and pus that followed only served
to make the joke seem
oh so funny we could die.


the flow of comic bloody props had halted
but the laughter it would
carry through the night.


the jester starts again the next day
until there comes a time when
it itself can die.


but time forgot to follow little D.D.
is the punchline
rotting from the inside.


tried and failed and missing death but falls –
applause – the funny man
who always seems to smile.

Beauty Comes in Strange Ways

A warm breeze
shakes the leaves
as a girl on the hill
picks daffodils,
by moonlight,
with a smile so slight.

She should see
what beauty is to me.

Untitled and Sonnetesque

What is meant by the subtle inaction

and the feigned, determined inaction

of the beast? Touch greedy and mouth puckered,

prowling the night. Watching the night herd.


Flickers of weakness attract the feast,

then glances of coyness ignite the tease.

All the while hidden from victim

grows that beastly grin.


How he makes conditions exact

and lets you believe you chose the act

to fumble about that dim-lit den,

time and time again.


So from the beast to all I warn:

‘Keep clear of my night or fall for a charm

that respects no taste, just feeds on it –

for every one of you make me spit!’


[written in July 2012]