Archive for dark poetry

Never Stare A Ghost In The Eyes

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2011 by dc

The mice scuttled,
Dry skin flaked
And the moon
Looked back at you.

Never stare
A ghost in the eyes,

The endless hollows
And the

What will
I do next?

Come back to haunt,

Till your walking round
Old estates
Talking about your day

And feeling memories
Like a fever,

The insane want
That the streets ignore.

Too soon it’s you
All white
With a bruise
For a smile

And a washed out

Never stare
A ghost in the eyes.

These Fascists, These Wolves

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 13, 2011 by dc

These fascists,
These wolves,

The kind who keep
Spittle on their teeth

And piss in the shadows
All cross-eyed.

We sing in the hope
Our words
Will disease you.

These fascists,
These wolves,

All intellectual growls
And simmering blood lust,

The kind that fall
Into routines of hatred

And clamp claws
To their pitiful

We sing with a melody
Best kept in trees,

And soon we will dance
On your bones.

So Sudden They Bite

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2011 by dc

It’s happening again,
Their tongues are scaled
And they’re laying eggs,

There’s a gentle hiss
And a creeping mist
This hand shadowed night,

Some are still thinking
It’s invisible theatre,
A nothing
In the drunken
A dust cloud,
A clutch of falling leaves.

Spines ridged
With microphone wires,
Nails filed
For the cameras,

Hidden in corners,
A vicious glint
In their eyes,

They’re here,

And still the strollers ignore
All the signs,

Some are immune
To the flashing lights now,
To the day glow grinning
And headlines,

Something evil
Is snarling,
And still the lame folk
Sit yawning,

Soon they’ll be selling
Their children
To zoos.

The Peripheries

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 13, 2010 by dc

Patio handshakes,
Glass stares and parasite smiles,
The peripheries.

You’re vile like hot tar,
You’re municipal grim ghosts
Raping the almost,

Your words carry scents,
Practised lies and old pie charts,
We hate you and pray.

Library Cabaret Brigade

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 1, 2010 by dc

They tap into the hope
Of the biscuit dunking
Library cabaret brigade,

They make them think that they’re saved,
All tombola tin rattles
And welcome home parties

For bodies in bags,
And the prayers that they kneaded
Into cakes are now bleeding

Through the baking tin corners
That have long since served purpose,
Like broken toy soldiers

Alone in a loft,
Snapped up in boxes
Estranged from their tears.

Someone Else’s Graffiti

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on November 4, 2009 by dc

She had a face like a photo-fit
Or the kind you’d find on beer mats,

A grimace from a court sketch,
A frown all ridged and unwell.

She was someone else’s graffiti,
A stuttered chapel prayer,

A feeling something’s never right,
A dizzy, spinning moon.

When the Vampires Cry Back

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 11, 2009 by dc

It’s a deafening scream
When the vampires cry back,
Their faces turned youthful
As their sour tears collide

With the truth on a precipice,
A dog on a string,
All pathetic and boney,
A moment from darkness.

An improvised blackout
Takes the eyes of the generals,
There are truths in the night sky,
A pale whine pervading,

Where they once sat untouched
They are now sad and broken,
A whispering hollow,
A humbling bond.

Border Town

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 9, 2009 by dc

The whisky and the punching
Left me wheezing in a ditch
As the uncouth rattle of scooters
Lay rhythms through the village,

I remember the horses
Dancing in circles,
The comments of owls
And the ice cold winds
As they wafted across
My damp and bruised body,
Singing sweet songs
Of gin and confusion.

You don’t go table dancing with farmers,
You don’t shout out welsh rebel songs
In a rough border town
Or pepper your speech with violence and phlegm
To a yard of drunk strangers
Who fight for a living,

It used to be
People like me
Died at the hands
Of these troglodytes,

But these ditches they love me like family,
These stars they guide me home
And in time I will realise
I was born for this beating,

Born for the night fields
And border town violence,
Aggression spat random,
A queer cloud at dawn.

A Darkened Birth of Fright

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on April 10, 2009 by dc

A sky of sheeted ravens,
A void of deathly quiet,
Tonight the sights seem grave,

The endless bend of sycamores
Down lanes that smell of spunk,
Past the houses of children
Chicken scratched and toothless,

This is the conclusion,
A full stop that stinks of whisky,
A darkened birth of fright,

We were jokers till this moment,
The dead lie to our right.

A Beacon

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on January 11, 2009 by dc

Despised like the legends of avarice,
You are tobacco in the throat of a giant,
A horse in a coat of barbed wire,
An oak tree whose roots tickle land mines,
The ecstasy of betrayal made good.

You are the result of mistakes in a storm,
The horns of wild Vikings on coastlines,
The disgust of a huge mirror broken,
The stench of fresh bones in a forest fire burning,
A beacon of bleakness and greed.