More poetry from Welsh poet/writer Steven Francis. Described by one reviewer as "the poet with a magic microscope into human emotion", Steven is a fascinating walk into a dawn where the sun reveals everything...
And here lies
the best of us;
end of all
the best of me, seppuku child.
Of 1980 and fairgrounds,
a once baby heart filled with jazz
now at threads end.
Full decades lived well
in honesty that cameras could never catch.
Beyond scars and rats
and bony jailbait
but never above,
never holier than darkest sin.
At rest now
from machines and noise,
from unwanted bully banshees
asleep and free,
bloody pulp no more.
A song to end brothers
Game Over...
©Steven Francis poems 2014
Faceless man on the news
staying hard with gratuitous views.
Erotic chapters needling babes of old
wearing guillotine grins as stories fold,
again again, murder gospel sends
the gore chicks into razor trends.
Dames of Hollywood
house of kills,
voyeurs and ghosts
haunt the world for its ills...
©Steven Francis poems 2014
