Debitum Naturae

“Fly away,” sang the crow to the little lark,
“There is no home for you
Among the broken promises and empty hearts. We drew
the life we never mourned, away with fading dark.
Your wings are fashioned from the cold, mindless lies
of feathers tarred with pitch!”

Those innocent songs she sang with wistful eyes
into silent sydromes to devour and betwitch.
Spoke the lark, “But love is all that pulls my heart,
my holding, guiding light,
Seduction through my lookalike art
to bring you home, stars smother selfinflicted night.”

Sleepless lexis hung between them, never more
than sorrows limitation. Vocem dederunt amatoribus.
Flying in circles until further meetings
gave nothing less than lamented greetings,
between night and day they lay.
Always there, in expunged love, to aimlessley stray.

Poem © Phen Weston 2015


I saw you in those ghost of friendship and time removed,
Alive with fictitious recollection in haunting hours,
But nothing more than replacement parts in meagre minutes,
It wasn’t you, the man, the fake, the lie,
Who wore your jacket, your hair, your smile,
It wasn’t you, though, exactly how you move, your head,
Your arms, your stance, all that hollers
You were he and he you, but figments detachment,
A Doppelgänger of promises lost between the fading worlds
That once converged to bring upon us golden pleasures.

The replacement parts move with uncanny accuracy.

Believable lies that stroke senses,
Causing momentary realignment of ifs.
If it were you I would smack your friendship around the face
For breaking away and vanishing from reality,
Retreating into your paranoid madness where I could do nothing
To protect you, guide you, love you any longer.
If it were you I’d bring you close, making sure
You could not dissipate into ether for another time.
If it were you… Friendship wouldn’t be the fickle doom
Of fake acquaintances, claim, and pretence, todays two-faced
Propaganda for those only there when their needs are suited,
And not when days are met with nothing but our company.

Do you remember?
Those winding hours we sat and talked of nothing
On the twisting river banks? Watching our slowly turning planet
As it travelled through our reality of makeshift dreams,
The little words of brotherhood we wore between us.
Each fortune sought with harassed haemorrhages
That took, little by little, more from you than it ever should have seen.
The cliffs came down and filled the ocean with your pain,
And all I could do was watch the weight drown you
With no more hope than all those lies we told.

If you were he then your seasons changed and there you stand!
A man once more, strong and happy.
He walks away… And I still see only you.
Dressed in the finest doppelgänger suit.


Murmurs of Divine Communion

By Christopher Rupley and Phen Weston

Mimic distinct responsibility,
and claim that I have none of the above,
that you alone stood against the devils
that blanketed fevered dreams
with echoes of our destructive lust,

Where were you then, when Eden fell?

Why didn’t you salvage your asset,
and replace the libation for yourself
with one more precious than the love for a father,
creating instead a milieu of sanctity among
the fallen thrones you devised?

Where were you then, when angels wept?

Swept between pulpit and promise denied?

Where the hand of God reaches through passing,
that tumbled hymn sang to those whose grace became
contagious before his tears salted the ground,
trampled beneath ends,
imprints held in titles elapsed,

And this canonical snare
that ripped through humanity
like a plague,
cherry-picking it’s victims,
giving crass pompousness
a new name –
a name that purports love,
yet dangles a tantalizing
prize among the eyes of
straying descendants
with an eye for their
coin purse

Aren’t’ your coffers full enough?

(This is part of a collaborative poetic effort between myself and one of my favourite poets, Christopher Rupley. It’s always an honour to work with him. Be sure to check him out and his blog


Brilliance blossomed amongst heavenly forests

Of thoughts that take us to converged desires,
The simple sonnets that shape public passion,
We looked back through trees that mask
The storms of everyday deliverance, doomed
By loves lingering whisps to shackled portraits,
Absence of absolution transferred the fickle
Between the frenzy of forevers grazed paradise,
The sun shone, in figments we held point
From those fallen branches that twist and snap
As roots rip from the poignancy of tomorrow,
Lies come and go, between the falling leaves
That turn to grey conviction and mastery golden,
Each new fiction she stole from hollow air,
The times of those whirling lives that never manifest,
How could their be anything between such sheets?
Nimble nimbus, promising the world to each heart
She tore from the grasps of natures tender age,
Devouring harpy, claiming innocence over truth,
Thinking her pain was all that sustained the world,
Ignoring the souls of all in her path, clashed chaos,
Their brotherhood stood no tests, that sprint or spirit
Through cold winter streets, to become thieves of night,
She claimed them all in wake, and watchful denial
Of the traits and tribulations of another cause,
Whispering, “lose your sight for sweet seduction,”
Nothing new on this, Eden’s paths, crass lashes
Of bemused pity, the pitfalls of belief in love,
What could there be in sleepless streams?
Contact forms the fractured deceptions of her touch,
Broken bones forced from unhallowed gatherings,
The first morphs of blood and gold, carcass,
All her word would ever be, the sickening cache
Of leprose emotions that stole grace,
Captured promise and spewed resentment,
Love lost all meaning and hearts bled nebulas
Of what could have been, all that ever was… 

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Promises in the Rain (To W.)

I saw simplicity wished upon a star
As we hid under her subdued umbrella,

Evening dew reflected fragrance
Into each heart before the downpour,

I saw your soul in kaleidoscope colours
That spiral in motions of time,

An epiphany of meandering through life,
Hours become preciously etched promises,

I saw where we wear our lives as well,
Where fortitude sees through blue skies,

To where heart leaps and dance in showers,
Discarding umbrellas for another night,

And we whirl through each droplet,
Only held to each other’s souls,

Infinite destiny in ephemeral reality,
Where in celestial haunted world’s we conspire.


Poem © Phen Weston 2015

What other path?

Her tongue tied like ribbon around a parcel,
Drifting out to sea on waters of wake and lust.
The illusion of spring sprung between rains
And there were no more kings, nor castles
Made of Ivory and obsidian, just churning waters,
Where lifeless she waited for another chance.
Little shards of mirror gave her eyes figments,
Phantasms of what could have come before.
Now, the tide lost its pull, the company of wolves,
Faltering to be more than distended presence,
Until all stopped; time, gravity, meaning, love.
And she floated away, into black lagoons of nothing.
Forsaken by her own undoing, replete brimstone,
As tough as all she had come to adore, hung around her soul.
Nothing waited in those dark skies for such broken hearts as these.

Explorations of Beauty and Decay

Poem © Phen Weston 2015

Rivers of Reformation

By Christopher Rupley and Phen Weston

The tides inside
remind me
of a
when we
didn’t hide
behind our pride

mimicked those
by lost
rivers of

Though similar
inside, we
hide in
of our time,
ravished we cry

Conception haunts
those lonely
we wait
for one more
dawn to blossom…

(This is a poetic collaboration between myself and the fantastic writer and my great friend, Christopher Rupley, go check out his blog and see how amazing his words are. These are formed stanzas, each line of which goes from 4 syllables down to 1 syllable and back up again.)