Traitor! Fiend! Bastardborn with your whispering devils on your neck! You weakling thing you horrid speck! Is there a heart within you, no spine holding up your neck? No more. Here I shall your doings check.

You came and stole a heart that was not yours. You shaped a life in vain. In service you bound me, haunted by the love that hounds me.

No face but yours have I in my slumbers seen, not so for you I deem. Now let truth be known, no forgiveness this time. Your wretched heart by all and sundry shall be seen. Pray now fool. Pay for your crime.

You broke me, over and over, with a word and a whisper, quiet betrayals and torrid dalliance left my name a laughingstock. Yet I, I remained, steadfast as the world and stone and rock. 

I believed you could change but I see your true face now. Seven times and seven have I forgiven, now I take my own back, of the past I am shriven. I cast you out. From hearth and home be forbidden. From your damnable charms my heart is finally hidden. I pray in turn, as mine, your heart shall be riven.

No more, no more. My tears exceed your poorly worth. I deny your plea so keep them at their berth. Be gone from my sight and may your devils whisper in my ears no more. I return to the freedom of light and love and open earth and shore. 

Still here?  

Get out! 

There’s the door.


Judge me as a pagan.

Judge me not upon your terms my love. I am paganborn and not of the white cloth’s staid and quiet fold.

That which I desire, I freely praise and raise and whistle to admire.

Your shapely hip, high bourne breast, the white of your skin and all the rest. This be but the truth, why would I lie?  I admire these things even as I love your merry voice starry eyes.

I will not bring you flowers dear, I shall bring you honeyed mead, I’ll make no empty promises love but I shall hunt and fill the pantry your every need to feed.

No palace can I offer you, merely my own-built home there among the stones and stands of yew. Tis no grand thing my love but beauteous in the morning dew. There for all my life would I wake to you.

I have no riches but that which my hands may make. I am a simple man, I wish merely to care for you and goddess willing sons and daughters upon your whim to wake.

Judge me not my dear, for seeming strange and crood. For my love be honest before all the gods and the land. Upon my knee I ask my love, pledge me now your heart and troth and hand?

Non erat mihi. 

It was not me. 

The sin was not mine. Mine were not the hands that tied the ropes that bind us apart. Not my tongue that spoke the words that broke the lover’s heart.

Save your benedictions. Save your anemic excuses. Between us two there be only truth and fleeting truces.

Do not ignite a flame in me who his hand hath stayed. For honour’s sake I kept silent while the howling warhound bitches bayed. But seek to drag me down and I shall pay you true. With coin in kind to your shame and rue.

Mistake thee not my silent stare for lack of rage. I remember all, written in blood upon my heart’s secret page. I feel no shame. I have not no boundaries crossed. Twas thee the first first blow struck. False innocence upon thy hidebound shield embossed.

Loki’s tongue lives well within thy head. I shall have truth known though the telling leave me spent and dead. I fear you not. Your spite is wasted. I stand proud for all to see. Ware you now lest I your betrayal requite and cow you with my discounted and forgotten might.

Ware thee well my erstwhile dear. I hear all. I watch thee close. My eyes are clear.

I like the strange ones

I like the strange ones, the girls with pitch black hair and fingers painted to match.

I like them with a crooked smile and a voice complete with smoke darkened scratch.

I like the wicked jokes and wicked deeds by day. I like the ones who say ‘leave the light on, i like to see you when we play’.

I like the weird ones, the girls bleached all too blond. Of their scarlet lips and mocking wiles I admit I’m far too fond.

I like the wandering ones, the girls who seek just that one perfect man, I’ve no time for whores no matter how nice their tits or tan.

I like the awful ones, who’ll fight for what they do believe, I watch them with baited breath to see they have next up their sleeve.

I like the dreaming ones, their faces far away, I can just imagine how pleasant t’would be a dreaming afternoon, under an oak with them to lay.

I like the shy ones, the girls who whisper ever so soft. They are deep and wise as they are beautiful more often than not.

I love them all, the ones who dare strange. The ones who make their own way over this world and it jagged mountain range. Let my love be professed to you my dears and know my regard does swell.

I’ll ever stand for you against man or beast or mocking bell.

Just one I pray will meet me someday and choose me for true. I’ll be yours my dear, to take to home or heaven or hell.

What have you done?

Darling what have you done?

I stand agape. My glib tongue is stunned.

How could you be so cruel? Is it malice or are you merely a fool? I know not but despite myself I do care, can you not see the road to perdition right at your feet there?

I loved you once, I fought your fearsome demons with all my passion and might and though twas not enough I bore you no spite. Friends we remained and I forgave your transgressions but surely you must have learned one or two lessons?

I gave you up unto a good man.

Well did he love you with all that he might give from his chest and heart like a great barrel drum. In doing so my friend and brother he did become.

But faithless and loveless are you my witless dear.

With guile and spite and badly hidden secrets did you conspire to hang the cuckold horns upon another, this time not myself but my erstwhile brother.

Your pale skin and bluest eyes did you flaunt and give away but now my dear, where are you today?

Trapped and bruised and filthy squalor by your own many misdeeds, your mind dulled by drink and sex and weeds.

Were you every day we spoke happily so? A whore for all to hire? What wrought within you this damning disdain and ire? Surely a true and faithful love, there can be no aspiration higher?

What have you done my stupid dear? For now your name lays and lies upon each lip? Every pimp and fool would fain now seek to grasp your hip.

Faithful friends have you scorned and yes, for you we have mourned, but beyond our grace and love you’ve passed this day. Are there words yet to save you?

They are beyond my poets tongue. Perhaps by Lady Brigid they may be sung.

Are there deeds to waken a faithful love within you? No man could ever know the true blood of any sons begotten by you.

Your salvation is beyond the works of my hands and words to be done.

Are you forever lost within the dark of addled lust?

You are beyond my help and beyond our trust.

Wake foolish dear! Wake you swiftly now and see!

There is more to be had than forbidden rutting beneath a starlit tree!

Know in time beauty fades, and naught but true friendship and love remains.

Find the path foolish darling.

Know thyself lest you be ever every man’s toy, a kept cat, a stray bitch, a pet starling.

A game in shadows.

I hear it. I know.

Your buried secret you thought hidden but twas too well sown. The reeds speak it now my dear.

I knew you long before. Now again I know you. A blessing. A curse. A saint. A whore. All and none, made and sworn.

I know what you did for those in need.

I know what wrought on those who did wrong.

I know the pretty words you spoke that broke the hearts of men.

I know what you did in the shadows with whom and when.

Well you work your craft my dear but you forget from whom you learned. I taught you much but it seems that little enough have you learned.

Your eyes give the lie.

Your lip still trembles.

Your hand clenched in worry a stone resembles.

I know my dear, what is in your heart, for much of it I wrote. Pitty for any fool who by your pretty eyes be smote. Once almost you outplayed even me, yet still there’s much you fail to see.

Before you, in the shadows ever there was the devil and there was me and of my whispers they’ll never be empty.

I see that you see that I see and yet you do not learn.

Watch behind the shadow behind the clock upon the wall. Wait for the eternal walls of Jericho to fall, die to know all you would discern and still in my shadow you’ll stand. 

Let go stubborn pride and I’ll offer my hand. 

Yet no. That I taught you too, you’re never done till all the other players are dead and done and through.

Play on my girl and let us see whether master or apprentice you be.