Consumed

God cares no more for the tears of a foolish man.

One who loves & wants & seeks & knows the child, the girl, the angel of his heart who lies before him in naked pose…

 

But dies.

 

For God, if man believed in such, knows nothing but how to hurt & cut & tear & destroy crippled man’s world.

He knows how to paint the dreams I have so black.

 

…Black!

 

This tortured epiphany of death, the cloud of time which takes all & leaves uncharted & unknown

Leaves me silent.

With hate for the dreams & hopes & eternal longing of broken men.

As such I am.

 

I kneel beside this naked corpse of my lover’s fine & youthful virgin land.

Beauty wrapped in golden silk & luscious white skin of tender age.

I love her.

Oh how I love her!

In death as in life I love her & no more will lips of joy be warm to touch

Or soft  nestling of her childlike chin breath happiness into finger tips which seek for her.

 

Hence I close my eyes.

& Tears dawdle upon my angered face.

Collective streams of memories flood my mind

& I hold her hand.

Cold & still.

 

Pain engulfed by pain rides through these veins of want.

 

I see no point

No purpose

No future morning sun without her.

 

I take the cut slowly.

 

Fingers of red rivers roll across my wrist.

 

Life subsides into forgotten dreams.

I lie beside her & cry.

I hold onto her.

 

Silence fills the world with stillness

& the leaves on autumn trees outside fall & wave goodbye.

 

 

© ed simkins

– life without her?

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As I sit by my window

I wonder if life knows of itself
If its able to scream with joy or sing in love.
I wonder if children know of the pain
Of growing old and seeing death smile.

I look around my home and see the stories of the past
The tales of the fights, the glory of the hugs
The tickles, the dreams, the shadows, the lies
& all those corners of secret veiled winks & nods.

I jest now. I’m pondering too much.
I sat here reflecting before I run naked into the garden of life.
& it scares me, there’s much to be suffered.
The thoughts & deeds of those who hate & bleed.

I wonder if life sits in the flowers, the red & the yellow
The bluebells, the snowdrops, the pansies, the clover
I wonder if the forest of life would welcome a new child still
Innocent as the day I was born ten thousand years ago.

& still. Still I dream.
Of holding her, goddess of smiles,
Just sitting there, basking in the sunlight
Admiring the beauty of a face so fine.

Maybe I’m in love, but just with the dream.
Maybe I’m fed up of the fallacy of truth.
Maybe I want to kiss and caress the cheek of youth
But I know the pain & truth of chasing hope.

I wonder if life will love itself one day
Make love to each human, each creature in the sea
Give a chance of success to the hearts of each being
& set nature back on it’s course of true wonder.

~ just waking up & looking out over life
© ed Simkins

Tripping on illusions

I’m not sure.
It’s all bizarre.
Maybe I’m dead.
Or lost.

The sun’s out.
The clouds are rolling.
Things just seem strange.
Not quite what I expected.

Last night I was at her door
I was smoking the air
I was straining to pretend she stood there
Smiling in her fluffy blue dressing gown.

I laid down my roses
Wished that she’d see them
Wished that she knew I’d been there
Wished that she’d call me

But death is a strange friend
One who just whispers
Reminds you of truth
Shows you the futility of dreams.

So I kissed you on your forehead
The way I always used to do before
I stroked your nose & saw you smile
I never knew love could feel so good

& then a shadow you became
& i’m back here in my garden
My mind is tripping with illusions
A late night expedition to the old house of love

My dreams are that something new would occur
Something amazing would grip me by my heart
That she or you would come & hold my hand
That the dreams would come to fruition.

I’d like to experience something like that again
Something pulsing like fresh blood through my veins
I’d like this summer sun to witness romance
& paint the flowers which I see in shades of love.

So I’m not sure you see
Not sure what this day is I hold in my thoughts
& I’m tripping on illusions
& I’m wishing in the garden.

~ You know that I love her, but I want to experience this life.
© ed simkins

Meal For One.

The predictable monotony of meals for two?
Or the purported individualistic freedom for one?
I am yet unknown to answer.

I watch the couples fight & sing, play and love,
I see their knives cut deep into each other’s hearts.
I cringe & wince at each stab & slice.

I feed myself alone
With dreams of love that none provide
Imagination feeds on the days gone past.

I saw a dream today which I invited to dine
She looked & cried and made me run & die
A lowly disdain which ruined her day.

Sauce of sweetness, a sour seduction
A failed mix of smiles & thought
I grabbed my coat & trailed away.

I sit here, in the glory of my cave,
The girl in two tone, rich in fascination
I talk to her alone, a secret whisper sown.

Her body fine, sweet salacious curves of youth,
Her gorgeous hair flowing poetically, I long to hold
She smoothed her dress, I wished to talk & shine.

But she knows nothing of the world I am
She sees my shadow tremble in broken lust.
Her power cripples me. I fail.

This meal for one in a single chaired room,
Filled with tears from the pain of age,
I pretend to love her, but no smiles exchange.

I made her laugh through crimson wit,
I heard her giggle & the flame of joy leaped softly across her lips
I wish she knew of the conversation held.

But her food grows cold, & I sit alone.
I wish she’d sit & enjoy my world.
Yet stranger remains a distant hope of love.

~ I watched a film of two & I saw her today. I cannot escape this fix of mine. It tears me so.
© ed simkins

Echoes Ache

I shake.
A pathetic little man from outer space.
Gridlocked tears pause broken behind my eyes.
I’m drowning.
They need escape.
Recall the thoughts that brought you there & fall.
Collapse.
Cry.

Two reasons why.
Monuments of old illuminate the room in which I sleep. Torture to the end.
The blue-grey top you wore so often. A photographic bombsite that played with love.
Which stripped itself on so many occasions. Each written in a booklet of the past.
But died.
With pain & hate & broken down communication.
& ended in abject failure.

& the taste of you.
Your dolled up face.
You childish ways which glued my attention as the years rolled by.
As the kisses flowed.
& smiles fought with such happy lips.
I loved you.
& then the glue was gone
& the lies were born.
Pages ripped in the book of delight.

I was two hours too late.

& you were gone.

A jumper left, crying over the red leather chair on which we played.
& the pink glitter lipstick which made you taste so fun
Alone & lost upon the mantelpiece of my fire.

The house is empty now.
But I see you everywhere.

~ haunted by thoughts & visions & dreams.
© ed simkins

Awoken by dreams.

My bed aches in misery. Fact.
A frozen blanket of time & memory.
Filled with dreams from old.

Thoughts that capture you.
I hate you.
You left me scared & broken.

Your memory stood there this morning.
A vengeful palace of words so stern.
Vivid dream that bit. & cut eternal deep.

I’m angry.
& I despise you for the details you provide.
Standing there accusing me. How dare you.

You told them lies.
Strangers that I never knew; your family of fear & daily deceit.
You told them lies. & broke me with their hate.

How could you lure me last night?
How could you stand there naked? Make me dream of your flesh that burns.
Smooth & still & screaming seduction. Always bribing.

Tonight I’m sick. & I don’t expect you to care. I know your thoughts.
You appear in dreams & wake me up in sweat so cold & full of crisp disdain.
Then stir my passion with love & hate.

I’m sick inside. Never healed. Never known sweet freedom from you.
The cuts you stroke are deep & sore. A mad memento of love so called.
You stole so many things but the empty shell you left behind.

I’ll curl up in my bed tonight. Stretch out a hand and miss you there.
I’ll pretend no fear & hide beside, an empty space where tears were cried in hopeless desire & love inspired.
I’ll watch your face, your silent sleep & breathe.

& The light will fade, the shadows recline.
Darkness consume & the night will pass.
Maybe tomorrow in the fresh morning sun, a new hand will hold me close.

~ this morning’s vivid dream shook my soul. I Awoke to anger & frustration.
© ed simkins

The Sleeping Field

i wonder what it’s like to love.
That strange affliction which hides its scars.
I pause for thought as no memory returns. No photos emerge of former times.
Join me. Sit beside me. For tonight I rest upon the bench which bears her name.

Blossoms grow & burst & fall within the gentle breeze. She liked it here.
The gentle walks. The holding hands.
She’d smile as the spring birds whistled & sang their orchestrated tunes.
She kissed me here.

I look around. & I see a pretty girl with auburn hair.
A gentle face which smiles through her own regretting tears. Another loss?
& I build up dreams of her & wish we’d speak. But fear of pain holds me back. Enforced retreat. I’m scared to try. To even venture from this bench.

We argued once. Surrounded by the silent snow which fell.
& by the end, her tears had soaked the coat I wore more than any flakes which danced & trod upon the shores of my shoulders still.
I held her there. Held her close & tight & made her know I dreamt of her.
She smiled & kissed me softly through her passioned lips so wet.

I couldn’t say if my heart was full that day or I was already bleeding through my longing for her.
Even when she sat beside me.
Upon this bench which now bears her name – Her sacred name.
& I gaze from stranger dreams & focus back upon this stone.

Black enamel gloss; stone of heaven.
She lies there sweetly.
The girl i thought I loved.
My wife.

& the cherry trees sway their silent praise in pearls of pink & pristine white.
Cemeteries made for thought.
A single tear bows & falls.
I miss her.

& the stranger walks away the same.
& I wonder what it’s like to be in love.
The summer sun wanes & fades.
& I wish she’d return tomorrow.

To that girl within the sleeping field.
I miss you.
With all my heart & aching soul.
I miss you.

~ beauty & pain combine so often. I can only sigh in wonder.
© ed simkins

Missing You.

How do I get you?

How do I reach you?

How do I stop this bullshit and find you once more in my arms?

– How?!?

The walls still echo with the laughter you produced,

The beauty of your smile radiates in spaces known to us.

And the empty garden still cries in silence without your voice.

So where are you my love?

Where have you gone?

Why have you ridden so very far away?

I dream of you.

I see your face.

A distant memory that takes me back.

But the coldness of this winter past I know will last the year

& I miss you like the leaves without the trees

& I care nothing for the sun without you.

In my mind I cup your smiling cheeks. I hold you in my nervous dreams.

I prostrate myself and cry for you.

– For you.

& Each night a life of torture passes.

The blood that’s spilt, my offering for you.

My dreams for you.

So tell me how. Just tell me how!

How do I win you back?

How do I fix this world?

How do I make you smile again.

For me.

How?

& How do I let these tears stop rolling?

For the days they care no more,

Nor the nights which see these droplets fall.

I miss you.

I love you.

I love you.

~ A poem about Ghosts & Songs & Broken Justice & how I find it hard to escape.

© Ed Simkins

An Early Spring Clean

So the wardrobe’s on fire – I don’t need it anymore. Full of fairy tales and bloodied stories of yore.

The clothes are gone & the memories are too, as I’m fed up my darling of living for you.

The windows are open and the smoke belches out, my bedroom’s on fire & there’s no getting out

Lungs filled with poison and my mind is now dull, of love letters n photo’s from a folder that’s full

Dreams that you gave me I now set alight, and the flames are flickering with the devil’s light

Dear you, my pretense, my fake writing friend, the one who once loved me, who set up this end

I wish you could see me with my face up the glass, dying in a heap that will burn up the past

Eradicating memories that you dumped in my mind, turn me to ashes, I’ll be impossible to find

where the beginning once was and how I gave you my heart, or the ending of love & how we fell apart

But this don’t matter to you, you’re there at my door, pretending to tear, a cheap lying whore

the house it’s now full & i’m lying on the floor, I’ve read all your lies & yet I want more

In my death as i cough & my heart is a-fire, i dedicate to you my last bedroom pyre

In the palace we made love & in the bed that we made, a distant memory now lost in the haze

I can feel the pain, the tears & the burns & I tell you my darling I’m still foolish to yearn

For you left me this day, back in 1908, filled with remorse & a heart full of hate

& as the sparkling flames kiss me with light, I lie here consumed with the tears of tonight

I will remind you again that I loved you my dear, but this life aint worth living when you fill me with fear.

Playing with the Pain

i didn’t want to talk about death and the end of time.

i wanted love and sex and rapturous applause.

but all this bullshit & anger that she held inside

has just erupted at me like a ten ton truck of violent noise.

& i am tired of the battles & solemn with the grief

i am trying to escape & feed my self

but the windows are broken & there’s glass underneath

and the rooms are empty & the mood is grey.

for she’s left blood in my face & a deep wound in my core

& i’m telling you now, i can’t take anymore!

I have huddled in corners & lost my mind.

I have walked the streets in paine & cried cold rivers

I have talked to the dead & made many friends

I’ve considered my demise, drowning or scissors

& all this because of a girl I once knew

a morning beauty who made it hard for me to breath

a girl who i considered was the perfect idea

a girl who knocked me down & sought to leave

but i don’t want to talk about death and the end of time.

i just want to play with your beauty, entertain you with rhyme.

tis but a simple escape.