Along with reams of short stories, and longer attempts at fiction, I’ve written countless poems over the decades. The bulk were written in my teens and twenties and I literally have folders full of handwritten and typewritten compositions.
I’d been threatening to put a selection into print since the mid-90’s. I remember discussing it with an old girlfriend in ’95 but a number of things always seemed to stop me. Part of that was not really being sure if I wanted to share them with the world, part was never having the time to go through what was amounting to thousands of bits of paper – ranging from typed and formatted finished compositions to hand written stanzas on the back of paper bags, or anything I had at hand when inspiration hit.
A few years ago I finally got round to sorting out a collection and published them under the title “Wild Card Symphonies”. Consisting of three smaller volumes of my work, “Wild Card Symphonies”, “Cry To Me”, and “This Graveyard Heart”, the book totaled just over 120 poems. You can buy a copy (plug plug) through Lulu on one of the links at the bottom of the page if you like what you read and want to have more.
To Manufactured Heavens
You promised me poisoned lips
That would surely lead to more
I’m not interested in that kind of heaven
Tonight I want something real.
I can’t help it,
It’s just the way I feel.
It may be gone by tomorrow
Discarded on the floor
And I’ll be back to my old ways
With temptations leading me astray
To manufactured heavens
With their moments of release
And the touch of poisoned lips.
I may scream and long for a taste
But tonight I abstain.
I must resist. I want to resist.
For I crave deep inside
To be allowed heaven tonight
With its pleasures and its touch.
I want it running through my fingers
While I lay naked in the sweat
Caused from previous actions
Of what some call love.
The taste on my lips
Is to me everything at this present time
More real than my blood is
Or the sight of your naked sex
It pulls all of my concentration
My only thoughts are to have more.
More of this fake reality
That I’ve worked so hard to forget
I hear it’s calling as vividly
As the taste that fills my mouth
My body moving towards a door
Some repressed instinct,
Wants to find an exit from my addiction
But the rest of me screams no
And it is overcome in waves of self-centred anger
And I return to your side
For another dance
With another face.
(TO MANUFACTURED HEAVENS, By A R J Abranson, 25-02-93/19:45 + 21:16)
Wild Card Symphonies, Cry To Me & This Graveyard Heart are Copyright ©2015, Angus Abranson. All rights reserved.
Cover design by George C. Cotronis (Ravenkult Studios, www.ravenkult.com) Copyright © 2015 Angus Abranson
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
No reproduction in part or in whole without prior written permission from the author of the copyright owner.