VII Stanzas
I
What does it really matter?
Like snow in its patter...
If it's to light for heavy weather
If love melts away forever!
II
Motion a kiss...
At midnights asking!
Wouldn't the moon reminisce?
Her wane from the waxing...
III
In her magnetic—stubbiness
Her wilfulness of innocence
Ah, there's a cosmic pool of bliss...,
Something only I'll reminisce!
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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The oohs and OH’s... of a winter rose
Shyly, the distilled November— light!
Exudes around; the blushing rose.
Till then her beauty is unduly, contrite!
Her virginal warmth; tingles, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
She’s more haunting than anybody, knows?
She ends each season unrequited.
In her pensive, star like milky throes…
That mercy blood makes hearts ignite.
So much so, her leafless, invite.
Trembles… inside with …Oohs
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
Leaves like golden; Leaflets frostbite-
Top-another has no partite.
That my soul would; disperse that lovely rite!
From the, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Love Is Calling Give Me A Chance
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
Love is calling give me hope
Give me a minute an hour
Let me prove I can change
Give me a minute an hour
And I'll prove even a wilting bloom
Can live and fulfill a promise
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
And I'll move heaven and earth
And turn all this flotsam and surf away
And switch on the sun
And turn this hellish feeling into
A kingdom of heaven you can depend upon
Love is calling give me a chance
Give me one more reluctant chance
And like a star I'll make your hear feel fusion
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Your life is on a throne
Your life is on a throne
Of dust weathered-stone
A whirlwind battered face
With a mountain to climb
Of the time
Of the time
Of the time
Your voices a busted microphone
Howling, babe I'm losing my mind
I live like a turtle and this is my home
By your side
Your life is on a throne
Of dust weathered-stone
A whirlwind battered face
With a mountain to climb
Of the time
Of the time
Of the time
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Of cause it's all lies, it always is
Of cause it's all lies, it always is
Keep it real keep it real keeps it real.
But where's the substance
Where on earth are the facts?
They talk about clandestine wars…
About anti-social crime lords
About Facebook ghouls and internet trolls
But it's us the poor climbing the walls…
Of the psychiatric wards, trying to get in,
So they cut your pay, privatize the state
And the mess we're all in, they've put us in.
There prisons are full, full to the rafters.
But but it's not Jesus but politicians that baptize us
So they squeeze your pension-pot
Steal your life saving with taxes
For their own; lucrative forever afters…
Of cause it's all lies, it always is
Keep it real keep it real keeps it real, eh!
Yes of course they give us tax allowances
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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The Children of God
Intelligence is a divine light
Glowing in all directions…
Whatever torch it holds travels
Throughout space and time
And orbits, a spiritual realm
That transcends all elements
Of our; so called knowledge
So that is why, we are called.
The Children of God!
From germ cell to molecule
From mineral to atom!
All matter and anti-matter
Can never be - destroyed.
So that is why, we are called.
The Children of God!
Whatever collides together?
Is transformed, molded a new.
Each with the energy to energize
A star and cause a core reaction!
In the body of that living star
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Cemetery walks…
The gravel goads me as I walk…
Do you not hear me, do you not see me
Do you not feel me under foot?
Do you not, talk …Speak! Why sir you are ruder
Than the sky, ruder than the stars and moon
On high, how dare you scuffle on bye?
Kicking; me over at random as I keep.
Your offensive size nines dry. Sir—sir
Sir— even a dandelion has the curtsey,
To bow its head before it drifts on’
The wind: surely you sir could at least sing!
Do you not hear these yew trees or the grass?
Do you not hear the bird’s song in the holy?
Does that robin there not make you gasp!
Do you not hear my unchartered music? Sir—sir
Sir— I’m the journey and you are just the path,
That leads to the end of the road:
“The swirling cherry blossom or so I‘m told”
When; the wind sweeps through your left
Eye socket and tolls, know that death, is
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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When, You Became A Reality
'When, you became a reality... to me
Not†the falling petals of a dying rose.
The enchanted melting's of recent snow.
Not a tale of long ago!
'When, you became a reality to me.
A prince, a prince, but oh, oh,
Not so long ago!
My shimmering beauty
That kept me awake...
And held me to sleep
My prince you!
Had the power to make me weak?
To tremble night jitters inside
Till no longer I could be denied
Or pretend to be chic.
There are times, timeless
You put the night too music
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Weight of love
His heart
Became a crumpled
Red poppy flower
A slip knot
Solipsism, thorn
A barbed iron
Slipping anchor
On a day,
Night had set sail.
On a day,
A sun must strum,
The Soloist guitar
On a day,
Wraithlike waves pushed on
Stringing under the noose
Ebony necklace of
Black beading clouds;
Blood-vessel-wine-storms
Skin-deep, whale-tanning,
Oilfields of crude tropic tears
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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Paint Palette
You are the one
Constant as the sun
Constant as the moon
Constant as the stars
You are the one
You are the one
Steady sure thing!
You are the one
Too wear my ring.
You are the one.
Invariable ingredient
You are the one
Sweet never shouldn’t.
You are the one
Rainbows, only pigment
You are the one
Never, just transient...
You are the one
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poem by Mark Heathcote
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