A Venus Key
She has the key to my heart –
But just what does that mean ?
That my love is locked in a box, apart,
Unused, still mint, pristine ?
Or that my spring needs winding up,
Made taut and tense, and set to start ?
Or that my keyhole’s cup can sense
The subtle slide and gentle shove
From her cunning iron dart ?
From the only key that’s smart enough
To skeletise my love
With a twist of her art ?
‘Skeletise’ as in a skeleton key.
The Reichenbach Zombies
They come, from out of the pages,
Lurching-on for centuries,
Reanimated for the ages
By the editors and mages
Harvesting our cherished memories.
Too valuable to rest in peace,
They’re resurrected, forced to dance –
But the spark of life is cold within,
And nothing but a rictus grin
Reminds us of that once and lost romance.
Spearleeks
The only way to dine on garlic
Ev’ry day or two,
Is to only visit friends who dine on garlic
Just like you.
So lace that bolognese another clove,
And stir it in that fry,
And then be sure to bring your friends around your stove
To have a try.
And don’t be so afraid to say très bon
When sharing peppy dips –
And don’t be shy to relish it when tasted on
Another’s lips.
Fall Back
The clocks are haunting Daylight Savings,
Goading us to stay in bed –
In late October, ancient cravings
Rear their bureaucratic head.
We skirt with time, we loop the sands,
Rewind once more the ancient rite –
We must perform the dance of hands
Upon the face of waning light.
The past is haunting Daylight Savings,
Logic lost to undead rules.
In late October, we’re the playthings
Of the limbo hour of fools.
We flirt with time, yet so habitual,
Barely offer an excuse –
We must perform the sacred ritual,
Stop all Hell from breaking loose.
Puzzle-Passageways
The trouble with a labyrinth,
Is that it feels so foreign –
Is that it has no logic
To its endless winding paths.
No hierarchy separating
Avenues from warrens,
As we trudge the many mazes
On our lost and aching calves.
Our only means of finding out
The route into the centre
Is by choosing random tracks
And by try-and-try-again –
With a dozen unsigned junctions
And a dozen doors to enter,
To a dozen cul-de-sacs,
And a single golden lane.
It makes sense in a dungeon,
With its safety-at-all-cost,
Or even on a garden,
Where the mapless lovers sally –
But why are city planners
Quite so keen to get us lost ?
Or to meet a Minotaur
Down a twisty, unlit alley…?
Serial Filler
Is anything more boring
Than another psychopath ?
He’s the laziest of monsters,
That we’re somehow meant to fear.
Just a clichéd bogeyman,
Who’s killing for a laugh –
Ho-hum, the same old slasher
Whom they think we’ll dread or cheer.
Is this another true-live nutter,
After fame at any price ?
And we’re determined to reward them,
Cos we’re really dumb.
Or is it just a fantasy
Of living through their vice ?
Getting all our jollies
Till our empathy is numb.
Infernal Inferno
Best be wary
Of Dante Alighieri,
Whose hellish depiction
Is turgid fan-fiction –
Trekking round each Circle
With Mary-Sue Virgil,
While snarking in the sleaze
Of revenge fantasies.
Strange how the Church
Has bought-up all his merch,
And turned this random blogger
Into Pope-approved-of dogma.
But worst of all, is any fool
Who has to labour-through at school,
Just hoping for a joke or three
Within his so-called Comedy.
No wait, don’t hate,
Don’t follow the gate
That tells us “Nope,
Abandon all hope !”
My anger is alive
In Circle number Five –
But no, I must not dwell
In this self-made Hell.
For Hell is more feeble –
It’s simply other people
With whom we disagree,
Like Dante is for me.
But to be more analytic,
Then Hell is just a critic
Complaining for eternity –
Don’t let that carping voice be me…
When the Curtain Never Falls
The theatre is haunted, of course,
Because, well, you know actors…
An ingenue, I think, or else a restless dame –
Or was the spectral source
A longtime patron, or some benefactors
Still attending shows just like they always came ?
Expectation’s such a force
And narratives are such attractors –
No stage worth its boards can be without its ghostly claim.
The theatre is haunted, of course –
That must be the common factor,
Why both the roof and the backstage gossip leak-out just the same.
Rough Night
I’m far too boring for parties like this –
I’d rather be reading a book in the corner.
I ought to mingle, but what should I say ?
If I could hear their replies, anyway.
But all around me are deep in bliss,
So what right have I to be a scorner ?
Force a smile, don’t bring them down,
And cross the room before I drown.
I came from a fear of loneliness,
But now I feel more lonely than ever.
Why does my silence feel like assault ?
And why does it feel like it’s all my fault ?
We’ve nothing in common but ev’ning dress –
We’re separately alone together.
Yet surely people like me exist ?
But they won’t be found at parties like this.
Hedge-Light
This firefly is all a lie –
He has no flame in him !
The light that’s seen
Is cold and green –
And most of all, so dim !
Flashing out his Morse,
Of course,
To bring the ladies in.
At least he does emit a bit,
And pimps his abdomin –
Unlike the many lads in other species,
Where the dads
Leave all the glow-up to the dames.
And some have given up entirely,
Never even slightly fiery,
In defiance of their names.
I guess he’s earned the term,
When he’s been sparking since a glowworm,
Putting-on a show.
But boy, he’s still a slacker,
More a squib than fire-cracker –
Just a pin-prick in the black,
Who’s turned his wattage way down low.
Or maybe it was all because his loneliness
Was all a sign –
A cry of fading prominence,
A dwindling from the present tense,
His species in decline ?
They used to fly so thick, so dense –
And even now, beside the fence,
They sometimes congregate and look so fine !
Alone, he hardly glorifies –
But when the fireflies fill the skies,
That’s when they really shine !
Rhyming Couplets 