Sentinel sentiment.

A cardinal scared and petrified
in a rock of roll and religion
peaked hat to forgive and emulsify
to climb above
and reach so high.
A priest of putrid sewage of language
spouted in abnormal times
embedded of a page
boy how did this look
in the middle, central eye.
Sir I will, and leave as a testament
a sentinel sentiment
a soldier to protect God in a thousand year myth
how dare you try
to dismiss this.
Layers so intertwined
I just lost interest in this rhyme
it is easy to dismiss this purified myth
I hope you all take the point of this.

I miss her

I miss her,
especially with the frosting's here on in
the English countryside bled white
ice and degrees zero
no longer heroes
blond haired and actual
I miss her
with the tree mounted and decorated
tinsel tasseled as a scarf
craved to be part of a family gone
away, torched in brandy
I miss her.
The empty bed, solo no glow anymore
I crave her delicate voice and thoughts
sounds only
throats obscured, insecure, fused and melted
I miss her.
tantamount climbing a face
again and again in my head
slipped, somewhere amongst the ascent
decent, too fast, lost my legs
I miss her.

X M A S T I M E xxx

Tis that time of year once again
when children glow amongst the lights on pine
awaiting Santa to descend down chimney pots
amongst the mince pies and alcohol beset to dine.
Whispers amongst parents, heard under pillows
a thousand secrets over years of time
will he, or wont he, am I good or bad?
the charades of anticipation in the noel bribed rhyme.
The glow of a nose guiding a sledge of truth
without Jesus nor God, just the red and the white
the snow it may tumble on the cards of the past
the decadent minced on pies of cartwheels delight.
Even the non believer can not stare into the eyes
into the son or the daughter and melt like the snow
with the history of pillow cases filled with gifts and no regrets
the dimmest cynical lights can illuminate and glow.
And so this is Christmas, beyond childhood pain
lets make it a new one, beyond the history we once knew
and gather a promise, amongst shadows of snow
this is glad tidings with white over blue.
So parents relax, within a knowledge of the myth
just as there ma and pa did on one winters eve
although we claimed, we would never do this
the power of Christmas forced us all to believe.

Cherubs we can not see

Cherubs faces etched in a stone plinth
ready to cry in a rain fueled mind
moss gathered on the cheeks of angels
Botticelli engraved, marbled to find.
Dry side against the rain scoured east
the back of the hand rubbed and imbibed
friction of forensics lighting the timber
persecuting the jurisdiction written subscribed.
An ornamental, committed to the wards
nurses and doctors caressing the cells
angels of non believers, hallowed the grave
tramping on meadows, orienteering the fells.
Clouds lined with the silk of distrust and grey
of dust powdered like rouge on the buttocks so spanked
a pure voice of echos singing in a storm
a leader of men gathered, divided, and flanked.
Heaven allows him to divide and beset
to gather amongst the underworld in a fire of lava and rock
the dearest of the family held hands and clenched
we looked towards the sky unbelieving, no longer the angels mock.
The cherubs sang in a sarcastic tone
and the blood gathered all around me
next decades will be better
we pronounced in nebula we can not see.