Alexander Zverev is gorgeous, those eyes are far too green. His golden necklaces choke him beat his skin black and blue. They say he’s a next greatest of all time. They hope more than think, he’s a Ken doll they can bend to their whim. There’s this girl they say she is nothing. A siren who tries to lure his ship to deadly seas killing him; or at-least his reputation. But I’ve seen the bruises; the scratches on his neck her tears as she gave her condemning testimony. We all want an heir, like kings we pray, but should I and we ignore this display. I think we should condemn or at least question if this prince deserves a Holy destruction for the sins he committed.
‘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 where you came to life.
But time turned castles to dust,
magic became a rare thing,
hiding 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 castles Cymraeg
Break from the shackles of lions who enslaved us
in falsehoods of fairness of unity
and for a shining moment
Camelot will be once more.
You are a heartless scoundrel,
an abortion of men,
a sleight of hand card trick
and I was your 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 I no longer trust the great sea,
wide forests or butterflies on roses
for they remind me of you.
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.