‘Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief, shining moment that was known as Camelot’
Once a French man told me in a dream
just before I was about to go to sleep;
that once there was man named Arthur
who sat on a round table
in a place called Camelot.
I asked him:
Where this place could be?
Then he whispered in my ear
from a little while away
that it was here
the land in you came to life.
But time turned castles to dust,
magic became a rare thing,
festering only on the outskirts
of little children’s dreams.
Every little bit
other than the high hills
and the green grass stretching for days
was cut up and sold;
bastardised and colonised.
It may just be a fairy tales,
whispered all over the world.
Forgotten and lost
a fantasy at the top on a mountain.
But one day soon we will
watch a great red dragon fly over
the Carillon castles.
Break from the shackles of lions who enslaved us
in falsehoods of fairness of unity
and for a shining forever
Camelot will be forever once more.
You are a heartless scoundrel,
an abortion of men,
a slight of hand card trick
and I was the con of a lifetime.
You are an evil aberration,
A pervasive mistake
inhabiting the body of an angel.
You have ruined nature,
beauty and all that is good-
For your face is fair,
and your eyes are perfect stars
in the black sky of your heart
and now I no longer trust the great sea,
wide forests or butterflies on roses
as they remind me of you.
Love is for the idle dreamers,
they covet it like a pirate,
alone at the sea for years
searching for the most golden treasure in all of the seven seas.
But me you see, I’m different.
What I want is far from the fairytales I was raised on,
the ones that inhabited my veins and brain for years on end.
It’s not something for those epic love songs,
or love stories in orgasmic movies that make loveless teenagers girls swoon.
I want a lover to drink with, in the moments before the broken hour,
someone to dance with in the bottom of midnight,
I don’t need to feel like the only one,
to receive flowers at my door the very next day,
to belong to some grand idea of sweeping beauty and ideals of a time gone by.
I met a boy, in a dusk of delightful desire,
and come across me was a feeling of peace
when is eyes placed themselves on my fault-full face,
but I won’t kiss him with devotion,
I won’t hold him close to my chest and speak in magnificent epigrams,
all I desire in my born broken heart
is for him never to close enough,
to see the girl crying,
to see the child still holding on to roses left at her door
and take me dancing.
Black diamonds, blue roses,
perfume that smells like amber,
fades around midnight,
when bright stars shine through the dull clouds.
Around the mass of dust,
surrounding old lungs,
there are hearts hiding,
that beats like broken syntax.
With messy minds, neat vodkas,
dreams of mountains that smile.
Spending nights writing soliloquies
about cheap medicine.
Rain falls down,
black circles around eyes.
Girls are prettiest when they cry,
that’s why the world makes them so sad.
In a haze, drinking by a fire,
covered to death in sunshine.
Black diamonds on girl necks,
blue roses smell like amber.