Alexander Downie

Your latest haircut denotes your status and style,
a thick velvet rope lifting makes your false smile.
Tattooed arms state, crazy child like charms,
draped laminate passes, a vacant call to arms.
...

Real Men cry for others, real men love their Mothers.
Real men stand for right, real men walk from a needless fight.
Real men live with respect, real men ponder and reflect.
Real men say what they mean, real men reject the obscene.
...

My head spins like a pirouetting ballet dancer
My wraith laments under a burden of piquant turmoil
My days are faltered and my sable minutes lay shattered and crushed
My masquerade contorts to whisperings of enraptured passions and trepidation
...

When the volume subsides and the last word is silence,
I still believe in love.
When the pressure in my head subsides and my breathing shallows,
what else remains?
...

A pretty black girl in Chicago takes a stray bullet to the back,
another Mother standing beside a dark grave, while white America arms.
A black boy shot in the face getting groceries for his waiting Mom,
a congress so dumb white blind, they can't see this as wrong!
...

Are you ok, you ask the wrong person,
it is not her that sits all alone.
Are you ok, who is the victim,
who destroyed a loving home.
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Le chat est noir. Mojo is her name
Le chat pourparlers. She asks for food, love and to go out
Le chat a trois jambes. She still plays the same.
Le chat est une sorcière. White and my friend!
...

He walks over fallen timber to find the high point on the hill,
placing feet on dry bark and avoiding damp moss in the dark.
His breath spits misty splinters of ice in the cold night air,
and his taught chest raises with fierce, effort and expectation.
...

After the first scream she lays the child upon her sweat covered breast,
they breath in time, a journey on a winding new road with no end.
Through ripped knees, ferocious fevers and torn hearts her scent never alters,
soothing spectres on fearful nights, smiling through dark days, an apron for a shield.
...

Put on your best clothes, the news is on today,
a billion smiles on TV, another fleeting moment to pass away.
Roll out red, white and crisp new blue bunting, your best Union Jack,
have a street party, this wonderful day was made specially for you.
...

The devil smiles a weary knowing grin, as you tear his body apart,
one less monster,1000 more souls waiting to rip out your heart.
You hold him up like a beacon to the end of 10 years insanity,
not realising you lit the flame to a vicious vile circle of inhumanity.
...

You say words that tell yourself you’re alright, but your eyes can't lie.
repeat it again and again and again, hide the pain that never dies.
2 - 4 - 7 - 20 years, uttering words of hurt, your lips tremble in fears and whys,
words soften and slow, your dirty dancing again, with the pain that never dies.
...

They visit me every night incessant seedy copulating dreams.
Visions of heads cracking on stone floors while breath leaves the lungs,
A slash of a blade in a Turkish sun, flying rocks a sickly thud of flesh.
brutal visions of dark nights and traitors walking arm and arm.
...

I watch people move, they swirl and sway in time,
a brush of air passes as they flow in each others steps.
They smile and bow and lead each other onto the floor,
a brief escape from worries, while the band plays one more.
...

Look out at a sunny day and hide inside,
rejecting offers of closeness and feel shame.
Put on your best new life false façade,
smile at the kind voices and drift away in pain.
...

Old roots have dried and their hold is cracked in Turkish dust,
they pull back, offering only broken veins and parched skin.
The cling deep in the hard ground, thick, brittle and rotting,
a wanting sharp spade to sever a hangman’s hold, fated to break.
...

There is a soothing that comes with a storm,
tied under covers as the volume rises to thunder.
Winds that whip lost moments from the mind,
cracking of branches that break banished bonds.
...

When you look down a straight line you can't see any sides,
dangerous to crossover, steering from hurt, you sit safe and cold.
Asking others not to take sides to perpetuate your own mired myths,
safe with transient trash by your side, as the truth drives on by.
...

Texas warmth looks for a lost Scottish eye,
not looking for weakness as it passes on by.
Stolen kisses, smiles and lightly touched skin,
a journey started in tarnished trust and trampled sin.
...

When the word comes to end what should be a fresh start,
leaving a name broken in sand, tears tear through a young heart.
Claim it back Elyse for what it was once meant,
gifts of a song to last forever, on perfect passions never spent.
...