Motor Spirit Calls on Midnight Wolf

And regret ran down my bastard face
as never had done before,
the merry click of good times I'm my head
replaced by a clockwork of gore.

In joy arrived, in mournia left
with memories replaced by blood,
as the bait of Man will rise and seethe
to rest in a nocturnal hood.

Lay me down in dark throated connects
welcome to ministries of dread;
in praise of flesh over river highways
reckoning of hours as winter fled.

Noble night under rhythms watch
horned shadows twist like grave hounds,
a force of nature, life at end,
pierced wall of sounds...

©Steven Francis poems 2014

See Man See Their Doom

Come take a seat
and wait for me,
I am called Danger
or Cancer,
some are even honest
and call me Death,
while others recognise my rodent face,
they know my  doom in many acts
as I arrive in many breathless shapes,
ready for your sickly finger
and pills and  things.

As the sun falls on the dark parade
pull me at your will;
drown me, tie me, shoot my rotten face,
dress me in disease,
hang me in my free bird frame,
you knew so well,
your Jesus,
the figure who sees your tears in the dark.

No trickster I,
no God nor devil,
no ghost,
look deep and see  in in memories,
look deeper into mirrors
and hear my joy again.
Out of the black in to the light,
shaped again as shaped you saw me first...

©Steven Francis Poems 2014