I know hunger,

I know the gnaw that grows,

From the stomach,

To every tip of every bone,

Until it floods the body with need.

The only thing to kill it is greed.

I know thirst,

I know the dryness that grows,

From the mouth,

To every tip of every bone,

Until it fills the body with air.

The only thing to kill it is nowhere.

I know love,

I know the ache that grows,

From the heart,

To every tip of every bone,

Until it drowns the body with unholy fire.

The only thing to kill it is……..desire.

© M.H.

Are you sitting in your chair,

Talking to someone,

Who may not be there,

Your life laid bare,

For all to see?

Are you on Facebook?

Are you up into the small hours,

On your laptops,

Or your desktop towers,

Foregoing showers,

For micro-meals?

Are you on Skype?

Are you chasing bonus games,

Timing your harvests,

To the smallest of time frames,

Staking virtual claims,

For nominal fees?

Are you on Twitter?

Are you slowly losing sight,

Because the glow from the monitor,

Is far too bright,

Each and every night?

It’s hard to see.

Are you on MySpace?

Are you swapping feeling for distance,

Touching no-one,

In the broadband dance,

Losing the chance,

Of a life that’s real?

Are you online?

Or Offline?

© M.H.

Pour these tears,

The rain of rage,

Pour them on the page.

Cry these words,

The tirade of hurt,

Cry them into dirt.

Living with an ache,

An emptiness,

A void.

Food won’t fill it,

Alcohol would spill it.

Nothing left to make,

Everything’s devoid.

No strength to will it,

May as well kill it.

Pour these tears,

The purge of pain,

Pour them down the drain.

Cry these words,

The storm of grief,

Cry them in relief.

For they are tears.

© M.H.

Riding the choppy air,

High above the clouds.

Encased in thin steel,

Perpetuating doubts.

The sky is like a bumpy road,

Fissures made of air.

Flying over obstacles,

Potholes that are not there.

A pilots’ nervy skill,

Who helms this sightless bird.

Who calms us via intercom,

With his buzzing, static word.

And then air is tarmac again,

Bouncing to a stop.

Gods’ puppeteering hands,

Have saved us from the drop.

©  M.H.

Perched atop a rocky crop,

A blurred survey reveals

Nothing but smoke and ash.

The blaze and blare of guns has ceased,

The limp dead fight no more,

And the land is awash,

With wasted but noble lives,

Seen through these victorious eyes.

All around this battleground,

A muted echo screams

All is silent, save the memory.

The heat and hate of bodies deceased,

Flung by gunfire to the floor,

And the heavens overflow,

With the wasted and noble souls,

That waded through these muddy holes.

Sitting here, the view is clear,

A fiery grave becomes this field

No flowers tending this day.

The cordite flash and metal thrust,

The hand-to-hand of death,

Robs Mothers, Fathers and families,

Of their wasted and noble sons,

Of which, I am one.

© M.H.

I’m swimming,

like the stars that are shining in your eyes.

One arm and then the next,

Kicking weakly,

Toward your shifting shore,

Where there will be safe haven.

I’m drowning,

like the flints that are glinting in your eyes.

At times blue and then black,

Ticking bleakly,

Toward the end of your day,

Where there will be scant harbour.

I’m sinking,

like the pools that are the bottom of your eyes.

Fathom by blissful fathom,

Sticking meekly,

To my blind and gunless plan,

Where there will be meagre reward.

I’m swimming,

I’m drowning,

I’m sinking,

Into the depths of you.

© M.H.

I’m dancing,

Alone in the dark,

My arms around a ghost,

In silence,

To music, 

Only I can hear.

You’re gone,

But you’re still with me.

© M.H.

I sleep.

I just close my eyes,

And it’s another world,

Another life.

Where I made you stay,

Made no mistakes,

And broke no promises.

I dream.

I just go with it,

To the perfect world,

The perfect life.

Where I smile every day,

My heart never breaks,

And I kept my promises.

I wake.

I just swim up to light,

To the same old world,

The same old life.

Where it’s the same each day,

Our hearts still ache,

And we forgot our promises.

© M.H.

I know how you sound,

When you’re with him,

Indulging in your sin.

You purr sweetly in the back of your treacherous throat.

I’ve heard you,

As I paced the stairs outside his room,

While you’re inside,

Spreading your favours wide.

I know how you look,

When you think of him,

Partaking of his whim.

You glow brightly all over your guilty face.

I’ve seen you,

When you take off your mask,

The one you wear for me,

When you don’t want me to see.

I know how you smell,

When you’ve been with him,

In fragrances that swim.

You waft like poison from every lying, cheating pore.

I’ve smelled you,

As I pass your door,

While you ready your skin,

For the touch of him.

I know how you love,

When you’re in bed with him,

And the lights are dim.

You buck gently, clenching all your deceitful muscles.

I’ve loved you,

Before he ever came along,

While my heart got burned,

Yours chose new tricks to learn.

I know how this ends,

How you’ll tire of him,

Pretrending he’s still your king.

You’ll lie more and lay less in that shameful bed.

I’ve seen this,

Before, and I will again,

When the walls grow too thick,

And the comfort makes you sick.

It’s what you do.

© M.H.

I am de-tuned,

Immune,

I have a muse called disillusion.

I’m icy cold,

I unfold,

And I always give in to confusion.

I write to cry,

This is why,

It’s an unexplained impulsion.

I will not mend,

Instead, I bend,

Am a paragraph of compulsion.

I am tunelsss.

I am dischord.

Nothing has an order.

I fracture easily,

And spin queasily,

It’s proof of my disorder.

When nothing rhymes,

And nothing spans,

I force my hand to word.

It sometimes works,

At best is hit or miss,

But sometimes silence is preferred.

© M.H.