SteNic (The Horror Replaced)

I step outside of EverWorld
lost to hate.
Ravens no longer roost
in my ribcage
pecking at the melody within.
These bones cradle a heart
as gentle as rainbows,
the terrible cry of the reaper bird
has hushed.

Shadows clot no more,
she is light
my happy ending,
the madness bit the bullet.

I had lived like a rumour
in a corner,
with scabbed lungs
padded liver
and both claws on hemp rope,
but nightmares end
all godless things must die.

Nana Love has touched me,
razors have turned to feather
the chainsaw song is heard,
madness no longer a crime.

Alone on drugged plains
I had twitched like a Turkish dancer
for attention,
needing to drown the feral crazes
in applause.
Hunting for a crowd
to hide in,
to escape ravages of solitary
the gothing extreme.

But no more.
My plague queen has Christened me
and tamed the tumour,
true love iced the loathing.
Humbly caught
I cannot miss any of those kisses.

Fevered creations have had
their funerals,
whipping posts turned to ash.
Nana Love catches me
this is forever,
I am born
this is my birth.
New York has never been
so supersonic...

@Steven Francis poems 2004

Young Wolves To Entertain

Wind me up again
people of the natter,
I will sing a song
(yeah just say when)
of Love and dogs
of razors and angels,
stab a stiletto
subtle queen of fang.

To gorge on distant cultures
in vague hours of distress,
I am well fed
fed well on bacon rind and cider,
glory to the never heard
ignorance keeps me sane.

A sensitive fiend
from cradle to eternity,
shaped from the breaking wheel
and basket of horrors.
And while juniper candy
fails to hook the fillies
I burn my dancing clothes in hell.

These teeth (clenched and sun drenched)
brushed with old newspapers
to tickle slap on smiles
of reassurance,
which pander to energetic urges
of distemper.
Viva melancholia!
Steal me a catastrophe.

The crisis has bled
I cannot quell actions
I cannot control the accents.
Eulogies on blotting paper
nauseating phantom.

And sadly
like the disfigured peacock
in Narcissus's attic
I fold away lacerations
into moth woven purses
to await the arrival
of a new crowd
to tease and poke...

@Steven Francis poems 1997

Chewing The Blue Chalk

The rain don't fall
the sun won't shine
but the wind cannot blow any harder.
I did stupid things
to impress you sugar,
they only pushed you farther.

This faceless life
in a prison cell
faking death to make time fly,
I didn't beg
when you pulled my wings off,
and never asked you why.

I discovered Heaven
after coming home from hell,
unpacked my bags and nursed the scars.
All the drunks I'd been
I gave back to the devil
no more hangovers, no more bars.

But where were you
on the eve of clarity?
Leaving a diary filled with sadness.
Those written confessions
left me crouching
on the tongue of madness.

Come kiss crazed girl
my favourite dancer
let me love you fresh and true.
Paint me black
or a neon red
but please don't paint me blue.

Sober now so strange a land
like testing bath water
in the dark,
the storm has quit
the sun's arrived
flushed from a recent spark...

@Steven Francis poems 2000