Andrews loss

Andrews loss. Photograph

a griddle of desire

turned slowly, framed

by the heat and turning

slowly into history

so that,

loss becomes a pyre

a disentangled thing

unwoven, unspeakable

in pain

the holder always reaching in

with fingers that implore

for more of that sameness

the comfort that escaped

and in the brittle moments

when dawn dampens the fire

it is darkness not light

that descends

to scratch at and bother

the future,

a place so desolate

that only pain will do.

And so it came to pass

Damn

mikedohsays

damn

I see my grey hair in pictures with the family

and realise that I am already passing

into history

How long will it be until the smile fades to ash

and colours in the inks lose their vitality

Can that frame hold fast and keep the memory

or will indifference and fashion

make it hasten into a lost obscurity

Will it all by-pass photo-shop

with it’s technical brilliance,

the mastered pixel rendered and held

for heaven to view in the cloud

Perhaps I am destined to inhabit

the space that the picture frame

purports to keep in an enigmatic perpetuity.

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Skin

mikedohsays

Skin

Skin 

We fashion beauty. We aesthetes

We are Olympians of taste

And make no mistake, when the money is good

No expense could be too crude

For the aristocrat of the senses

Whose pockets flap

Will exploit loose change to buy exotic metal

Shaped vehicles that are extreme

To sit proudly as ornaments of success

And that ‘trophy beauty’

The ultimate prize

Can be embraced, paraded and caged

For others to ogle and envy

But, there is one thing that spoils

And over time

Even expensive treatments will fail

When honesty is lost

And foundations slip

Even taught, sculpted lines will err,

Faults and fissures creep

And the mask?

Well it will speak

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