alfiedavidw

[alfiedavidw]

The Messenger At The Gates Of History, Was You.

Complete, I no longer believe in you.

I no longer need to hear you or see you.

Only in my thoughts when I dream of you bleeding soon.

Is when I awake.

I'm ready for something else to take.

[alfiedavidw]

The Taste

The odor of defeat

like nasty food.

'Would you like a taste?'

The offensive foul thought was you,

and should it of been?

[alfiedavidw]

The Lord We Loved.

You praise me with your reward,

but still I want more.

My men and women ask for security,

your church holds shelter for those at home;

The holy gloam.

You tease me with your flower,

but to touch ground,

that's love I've found.

My people ask of you to shower,

your body holds evil for those that are near;

my God appears.

[alfiedavidw]

Untitled

I love your touch,

let me breathe and release your hand around from my neck.

Leave me red, my dear you're all I needed.

It's hell in here.

[alfiedavidw]

Untitled.

Would I plunge my hatred into this sharp knife? Or take a loaded gun and point it behind me. Or maybe in front of you, towards my head. Maybe you’d respect me if I laid there blue, the type of people that get off on blood are less sicker than you.

[alfiedavidw]

Illustration of my poem Melody, based of the brilliant 1971 film.

[alfiedavidw]

The New Wine.

I dream of love in modern times, where sex and lies we feast and divine, where do we decline? “Well, give me four years and you’ll see.” His voices tell me to murder, but my heart says to forgive. Men short of change are charged with horrible crimes. And do you forgive me?

[alfiedavidw]

Another illustration I made from my poem, The Thief.

22/11/2019.

[alfiedavidw]

Just an illustration I made. 22/11/2019.

[alfiedavidw]

In The Leaving.

You look but don't listen, my words should make you realise my worth, and then you left.

Not knowing what to do with these 4 years you gave me, I surely cannot spend my days looking back in anger? 

All the lies, our monsters were partners in crime.

But did you have to die?

[alfiedavidw]

A Thief.

Right here, on the stage, right in front of the public. As they chant, as they cheer. For the mugging of your blood.

[alfiedavidw]

Skin Apart.

Lonely cold, skin. My hands are shaking, numb. Just another hand to hold it seems, another yet broken soul. And a thousand more men alone. Could you love me again? Warmth for a body bold.

[alfiedavidw]

Wedding In The Dark.

Elliot dressed in black for the wedding. Elliot took my hand and said he; loved none before. "And will you take me in sickness?" For the man was definitely sick. And the vicar lit up a cigarette in the Church of White Notley, the only fool in white. "I now pronounce you both... Well... You know." And the only two cheered and forced and was showed. It could of been a happy ending Al.

But I can't help not loving you.

[alfiedavidw]

Dead Begonias.

Red wine and flowers says the romantic run-away. "And will I see you again?" Maybe when my face is white and not blue.   The chocolates are nice Jack but I'm black and bruised. And do you miss love?

[alfiedavidw]

Melody.

"Will you love me for fifty years?" The young girl asked beside the tombstone. "Of course! I've loved you a whole week already, haven't I?" And suddenly his hand was placed on-top of mine, and I looked towards him like glitter. Under the arches, the school children watched the couplet conjoin as they face each other in bliss. The newlyweds and likely lads throw their flowers as they walk on the mud; puppy love if you ask me. "Do you kiss boys, Muriel?" "Sometimes, if he's charming." "Well, aren't you frightened?" "Oh, why should I be frightened? It's quite nice when you get used to it I would say!."

[alfiedavidw]

Letter Without A Rose.

Describe the scene, a dream that followed a horrible crime, and I must of played that album a hundred times by now. A letter, one of my alluring poems from the mentally disorganised. No collection of words makes one man listen, and the power to not notice a boy who stood still. And I signed it as I did: ''From Alfred.'' with nothing but one kiss. Because two more too many I wouldn't mean.

[alfiedavidw]

Love Like A Rothschild.

Puppets and masters of thought, the control of one mans torture another's sword. Spare me, spare me a drop of blood, and a loaded gun. The end we see the bones collide, or is it white lines with lies aside.