Suicide Cliff

Mad words, bad words

Fled, sped through brain

Brewing up a mental storm

Sowing, growing again

Poking, stoking a last lightening bolt

Exploding a chamber, in an unsound colt

Raining, draining

Words, energy all around

As the skeleton smiled sweetly

At the closing ground

 

Faster, faster 

The dancing man swirled

Twirling balletically

For the ghoulish world

Shouting, pouting

At the spinning mop top

Bloody hell! he's jumped

It's a hell of a drop

 

Floating above gloating

He soared as they roared

Losing a mind's pain

From an Earthling's brain

Flying with yellow beaked angels

Hang gliding into new birth

Gravity racing, sand embracing

To kiss the advances of the surf

 

 

Sun bleached bones, caressing cockles

Massaging mussels, in salty, sparkling wine

Distant dreams of becoming a fossil

An exhibit  from a happier time

 

And the rain fell to dwell

On the bloody pulp of hell

Down, down, down on the ground

Once so perfect, once so round

Now so flat, now so still

The crowd gasped its last

As the night swallowed its beach-kill

 

But, there would be no fluttering police tape today

To keep the rubber necked back from the affray

No black holed, black glazed, spooky van

No undertaker's magic on an invisible man

No sunken faced lifeboat crew

No coastguard van bedecked in blue

No unemployed ambulance man

No helicopter scything sea air, with its fan

 

For a lady up on the cliff path

Had saved the dying day

A lone lady up on the cliff path

Fleetingly smiled his way

Bringing warmth through stubble

To anchor human rubble

In safe harbour for now

No, no, no cliff top prow

 

Back crossing the seafront road a picture stared

Knees buckled, as his old soul was bared

Missing person - have you seen this man?

Oh, dear God, how he missed that man

Hooting, tooting, people shouting in vain

Ambulance man's arm, cranking up the merry-go-round, again 

 

 

Michael Ashby Poems

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