The Funeral – HEG George

Respects have been paid 

by those with good manners 

and by the mawkish with 

restrained curiosity 
And now, I sit in a chasm of nothingness. 

Raging seas crashing from my eyes, 

whilst salty rivers run from my 

nose to the tip of my tongue 
My day is slate grey with 

nimbus clouds abroad. 

And my ambivalence riles 

against a once merciful Being 
No longer registered are the passing 

differences between the sun and moon 

or the advancing hours of a stagnated clock. 

Gone are my reasons for either 
I have become Omega, last of my family. 

And now I sit, beneath a canopy of pain. 

Waiting for her whisper. 

Oh, dear God. Let it be soon.

Cancer – HEG George

Hold back the hour. 

Stop the tears from flowing. 

Breathe again untainted air. 

Take back my bones, my breasts, 

and race forward to passion once more 
Hold back the hour, 

before the ravaging of every sinew 

and fleeting glimpse of salvation, and 

forced pity encroached upon my earth 
Hold back the hour, 

before tested strength 

proves weakened failure 

and commitment runs a ragged road 
Before privacy alludes 

and birds no longer sing for me, 

or the pinch of reality is drugged 

away before the fluttering of breath 
Now bring back the hour 

let the tears flow 

I’m ready

Without The Sea – HEG George

The sun’s beams penetrate me, 

with fingers delving deeply beneath 

the blanket of my surface 
And the clouds rise up, as bitter as the 

moon eclipsed sun, only to fall back 

to earth, with life on the coat-tails of 

every drop 
On these benign waters rest the swimmers, 

whose hearts I hear play the perfect beat 

and whose skins I caress like a lovers breast, 

encasing them in champagne bubbles. 
Yet, they ravage me, savage me. Narcissists 

seeking the elusive liquors of promised bounty 
And, though I envelop the rocks at the edge 

of man’s domain, I hold from him the abyssal depths; 

sparing him from his frailties, and hiding from him 

my vanities 

The rivers are my children, so easily breached 

by the lifeless, upturned fibrous husks of acorn 

shells, travelling along my viscous exterior. 

Their David to my Goliath, making fools of 

all my tributaries. 
The seagulls flying above me, singing their 

homages, drain away my windswept salt from 

holes in their beaks. Like so much brine ejected 

from salt-encrusted lakes 
Like a harbinger of bad news, the moons tides 

recede within me like elasticated yawns, 

revealing the lost souls of battles ancient; 

illuminating elysium’s reflected glory 

upon the silvery face of that Lunar watch keeper

Sleeping In The Rain – HEG George

Every step forward brings an 

energised momentum. Leading 

me toward a portal which leads 

me to the Styx ferryman 
I am confronted with this resoundingly 

unique shape, the emblem of its industry. 

His coffin puts out its tentacle seeking my 

Past aisles filled with ‘fag-ash’ Lils and lipstick 

smothered whore’s, I walk inexorably 

on. Past the row of walking stick, 

benefits claiming, blue badge carrying, 

And those ‘mutter-under-the-Breath’ blue 

veined brigade, always ready to Judge the 

dress you’ve chosen for such a solemn occasion. 

Well, today I didn’t let them down! 
When I get there, what I see is a pseudo-realistic 

pantomime. A Frieze of alibaster-marbeled 

features, a mask of barely recognisable 

‘What used to be’ 
I’m confused. Am I supposed to love 

this empty form of you? Should I kiss 

your brow? And taste the loss of you 

on my lips. 
Or enter into a pact of believing that 

you lie there, waiting to kiss me back. 

What I want is to be guaranteed this 

will never happen to me again. 
I want to be able to give my love to 

someone and not have it thrown back 

when their ‘use by date’ has expired 
I want the time, before time stopped, 

to start again. I want the muscles in my 

neck to become unknotted and my wine 

bill to become averagely normal again. 
Oh, and I want his wife to know I 

was the other woman

Scream Into The Night – HEG George

I listened with intent and watched with 

practiced eye.That came to me through 

scream on scream, word on word and slap 

on slap. 
My mind wandered to its own recess 

To safe harbour and calmer sea 

Where was succour and treat me gentle, 

a moral compass with strength of fibre. 
Instead to tie me down and roll with 

suppression, a weakened road until 

journey’s end. Re-sowing that furrow with 

visions of war, destruction without refrain. 
No acceptance of truce to save the young. 

And in your eye shall grow this stain. 

This Mark of Cain remains as testament 

to the power of one soul over another. 
And when this life ends this mark, this riddled 

sore is carried over to begin again 

Pandora’s box with hope removed 

contains this mind of youth, 
baring plaster o’er the cracks of despair. 

The seeds of doubt retained within, 

the low esteem to fester like a weeping 

wound. Salvation lies within a temple sought. 
A She from which to learn. 

A muse from which to draw. 

A guide to lead until strength grown. 

With which to fight this Gorgon’s child 
The spawn of the triumvirate. 

But, the strength desired, the muse to be drawn 

lays disappeared beneath a crumbling fear and 

shadows felt. A surface of lies so thinly veiled to 
hold back the tides of doubt and damage caused. 

Finally, to watch the tormentor’s life drift away 

with no spark of redeeming light, or release from 

bonds held. 
No mark of passing, no retribution on hold. 

The screams still remain and bring forth 

a new sunrise of guilt to colour the day.

Anticipation – Yahya Said 

As we are lured by the morning dews 

Captivating our thoughts and build a smile 

As we are awaken by friendly rays 

We see love, 

Filling our world with smile 

Silly laughter that we cant explain 
A day that reminds about our own 

As joy and rejoice enslave us 

It show us our past 

We see the present that last 

In our hearts we hug a pet 

In warmth and cordial state 
In our dreams we take a flight 

Trailing the silent night 

As the world sleeps 

We befriend the lonely blinking minaret 

Smearing out the dark feelings 
We growl in lust for what we taste 

In long we drool therein 

Manoeuvering with the life beat 

Making us astray in this street

Comfort Them – Yahya Said 

Be their teddy bear when they are lonely 

make them feel your presence daily 

like a butterfly, make them have a silly smile 

be a reason…… 

when you are far away; they’ll have a story to tell 
spread your tender love, be kind 

to them be one of a kind 

a stream that erase their boredom 

flourishing their thoughts with a smooth smiling cream 
‘will you be available for a hike? ” 

ask them, its a lovely prick 

they’ll remember you, while their adoring eyes witness flowery tears 

longing if you could be near… 
Ere sun sets and darkness rule your soul 

Ere you become a past tense in this world 

scar their hearts with love and more love 

for they will have a moment to remember you like their lovely dove