Magpie Feathers
November 11, 2009
Dressed in magpie feathers
she hid behind dark glasses
stole glances for tomorrow
from unsuspecting guests.
Drawn in black and white
the world revolved around her
Attracting gold and silver
she furnished her fine nest.
Dressed in magpie feathers
stuffing superstitions
in her lucky bag she found
her sparkle has been raided.
She stormed out of the city
She brooded on the horizon
she learned to love the grey clouds
while her friends became jaded.
She danced in the dewdrops
to the sound of the rain falling
she waited to catch the rainbow
but no longer needed gold
Dressed in magpie feathers
full of glistening raindrops
they sparkle like bright diamonds
She never can be sold.
The New Gods
November 2, 2009
They worship their gods
in microchip monasteries
with silicon spires.*
They pray for more memory
invisible storage
to fill with desire.
They crave pure perfection
Nature’s song rejected
by their holy choir.
While They build Utopia
we are burnt offerings
sacrificed in the fire.
D.Hinson
Oct 09
Inspired by a short story ‘Goliath’ in Neil Gaiman’s ‘Fragile Things’ book.
Crow Rising
October 16, 2009
Miss Mundane is at it again
wrapped in Material World
Crow rises, stretches her wings
and watches the day unfurl.
Miss Mundane trapped in her brain
always wanting more
Crow gathers scraps squawking
as the hard rain begins to pour
Miss Mundane is driven insane
stuck in a rut on the floor
Crow catches opportunities
as they fly through open doors.
Miss Mundane has lost it again
always blaming others
plucking crows fine feathers
then hiding under cover.
Crow will return like wildfire burn
the world can’t bring her down
to Miss Mundane’s level
where her future lies half drowned.
D.Hinson
Oct 09
In the Temples of Black Gold
October 12, 2009
October candles burn down
dreams of summer flicker in the air
heated by black gold.
Blazing in the furnaces running
out of time to watch dirty habits
wash up in boiled seas.
The black gold slithers through
the rich man’s fingers. The poor man
wanders as desert lands encroach.
Another soldier buried, fighting
for resources. Wisdom lies crushed
in abandoned dreams.
The future waits, impatient around
another corner as geo thermal genies
rise from deep underground.
Solar powered prietesses harvest
the old sun god, wind generated wizards
power new technology.
The winds no longer whisper, they scream
down desert valleys, flooded by indifference
scarred by old mined seams.
Mothers of mass consumption
Fathers of fuelled corruption
Children of total destruction
cannot be obeyed.
Today’s roars silently stifled
the deaf walls are well sealed
locked behind indifference
in the temples of black gold.
The shells will be abandoned
as they crack under pressure
The walls begin to crumble
in the temples of black gold.
Mirror Mirror
September 29, 2009
She wore the dress well, covered in mirrors
clinging to her curves reflected thoughts
trapped in the sharp corners cutting
our her fine shape. A designers dream
captured the desires of passers by.
The dress sometimes shimmered
envious green or the deep rose tints
of lust, the sunny yellow of children’s wonder
or the indigo blues of loss and regret.
She wore the dress well, not letting the emotions
or opinions of others filter through
it’s polished surface. She believed clothes
were only a reflection of our true personalities.
D.Hinson
Sep 09
Watch the skies
September 24, 2009
Watch the skies, not the thoughts
in your mind swirling
follow the shadows devouring the light
hear the birds song your future told
in their chorus
feel the pressure drop as the storm
approaches tonight.
Smell anticipation waiting like a vulture
grinning on its perch
ready to devour another day
taste adventure on the freshness
of tomorrow’s dreamers
where echoes wonder if we’ll ever walk
the winding way.
D.Hinson
Sep 09
The path to happiness is seldom a straight line.
Mary’s lament
September 5, 2009
Her bright coloured hair
couldn’t hide the rings of Saturn
framing her dark eyes.
She plugged into voodoo man
burnt offerings to appease
the rain gods drowning
September in the arms of Mars,
As horse heads of the apocalypse
crashed on plutonium shores.
Dredging through these dog days
black gold traders stealing
reuctant slaves in tin cans
taken to early graves.
Mary prays to be released from
guilt wrapped thoughts swirling
around her drenched red head
the rings of Saturn spin too slowly
in a world hooked on speed.
Mary holds time’s hands still
wraps around her man .
The rain falls around them.
D.Hinson
Sep 09
The Night Hunt
August 26, 2009
the restless dogs rustle
through the wooded labyrinth
following the scent.
Bowing to the moon goddess
Drawn down to earth
Such a heavenly descent.
Reflections quiver on the lake
Quickening heartbeats
Warm their breath.
The restless dogs know
the horn of the huntress
Signals immanent Death.
She joins them on the hunt
their allegiance so true
never once denied.
She sniffs the cool night air
Bow and arrow alert
by her side.
She stops, silently raising
her divine weapon
to aim, fire!
She shoots the arrow straight
into the pumping heart
of Desire…
Desire is defeated
they devour her completely
Appetites satisfied.
The dogs feed on lust
full of Desire
The Moon Goddess cried.
D.Hinson
All things must pass…
August 23, 2009
Cracked reflections
of life passing through
the broken present
through lingering layers
of stratocumulus
wearing damp blankets
in misted memories
another lost sheep
in mounds of monotony
searching for friends
seek the council of crows
to rise into the blue
in streams of consciousness
wandering like rivulets
gouging out deep valleys
where slithers of sunlight
slowly break free
behind grey barriers
the beasts of the moor
pacified with warmth
bask in beauty
as clouds have passed
embrace the present
through cracked reflections.
D.Hinson
Alba
August 20, 2009
The Old King waits
for the sun to shine
Crowned in purple thistles
Slowly he erodes
Bathed in rain
While the West wind whistles.
His past is lost
in the mists of time
Heather hugs his barren slopes.
Deforested land
brought back to life
New forests bring new hope.
Islands float
around his head
Alba living in the tongues
Of Gaelic people
Alba kept him alive
He’s breathing in their lungs.
Above a sandy beach
Alba reflects
on his peaceful throne
Highland clearances
left him empty
Alba is never alone.
D.Hinson
Aug 09
