inspired by our apparent obsession with tabloid love tales

Love in A charcoal Shell

Miss Maldives, Miss coral shoal
Your eyes have turned to coal
Crush them to make diamonds
Then ill really see the stars in your eyes
Squeeze so tightly upon the ghost of you
Wanting all of the real you back
I’m just loving a carcass
A fragile shell of carbon
For our love has been flamed
Eroded
Hung in the halls of shame
Beaten, surrounded and goaded
By the obsessive few, the corroded
The Fleet Street information overloaded
They pickled themselves
Under roofs of tin
The consummated preserve of a rotten harvest
Like demonic elves raining in
In a gathering of spellbinding sin
The witches have their cauldrons
The men have their shackles
Walked upon by high heel
And pierced by the cackles and laughs
Confused etchings of a spiro-graph
Is how his mind feels.
He has no idea where to put these feelings
So he draws a circle on the bar
And keeps them within
He sees her as charcoal now, distant
A new model of the old
He used to be persistent in chasing her
Now hes told he never makes the first move
And that gone are the letters that used to prove his love
Wilted are the flowers, in a stainless grey sink
He shoves his head
The only place to think
Apart from the oven, and the stiffest drink
So many chemicals and gases
Carbon monoxide
He has had classes in poison
And taken gulps from the glasses of Charcoal
Hoping for the antidote
Hanging under the rim of a homburg
As sad as  the shadow
on a Hiroshima wall
Theres is no one home anymore
Beauty belongs to the beholder
Who’s is to say my world of ash
Is not as aesthetic as your greenest grass
From cinders comes the living
And in baroness the beauty
With every parasite burned away
Paving a path of pure for fresh feelings to lay
I will pray for strength to stem the decay
And bite upon those who hands shall prey on mine
That may wrap upon this oaken door
Ill clasp us in a hasp
So that my new found love may be secure
Ill hold your body of ash
For in black I find you pure
A most forgiving colour
In ample flesh there is allure
Every curve and fold a finger tours
Warming hand upon the scores I draw along your spine
Smilingly internal, confident you are mine
On the outside a slave
In the inside mined of feeling
those hitting hands behave
In the most sadistic way
A spoonful of silver helps the helpless
And starves the poor