POETRY of WAYNE RILEY

"IF WE ONLY MEET AS STRANGERS"

If I should not

For thee exist

In memories hour

Now long since past.

Forgotten,

Lone,

Neath marble tomb

Where dandelion

And roses bloom

Where mortal bone

Stripped flesh from life

Bear loveless tears

From a tear stained wife.

Do not regret the hour we met

And follied neath

The sun and moon,

For whence such time

Our time, abide,

Loves fleeting chance

Slipped from your side

And withered in another's gaze

To bear its fruit on summer days.

If thee

For me did not exist

Fare not the wind

That bloweth lost

Caressing soft the scarlet cheek

Of loves lost passion

Mild and meek

---

"THE END BELONGS TO SOMEONE ELSE"

Everyone he knew

Would rather be somebody else

Than the reflection that lies to them

Every morning in the mirror.

They are not satisfied

With who they are

But rather

Who they are not!

The person they truly despise

Is not themselves

But the image

Other people see as themselves.

So many people wanting to be

So many other people.

It's no wonder the human race

Is running towards extinction.

And

When the fat lady

Reaches for the microphone

Who will be left

To press the button

And who will be left

To point the finger.

---

"THE EVOLUTION OF NOTHINGNESS"

Sometimes the speed of the ride

Is so breath-taking

That it takes you by complete surprise.

Like the love of a good woman

Who puts your sadness before hers -

Or the belly of a dog

After a good meal.

There is no escape from the madness

No reasoning back into the safety

Of the womb.

When love dies

It dies for eternity.

Only the memory of feeling persists

Until the numbness overtakes you -

And then it's too late.

There is no age without time

And there is no use in screaming

At the hands of a clock

When love and youth have deserted

you.

Know that

It is the destiny of mankind

To be forgotten

But the destiny of man

To believe in eternity.

The evolution of nothingness depends

on both.

---

Coarse wind so sharp

Would cut a blade

And carve a grave on winters smock

Whilst beggars sun

Snared thick and flack

Grieves - out behind a bletcherous

moon.

Beware

The kingdom of the Crow

Its branches bare as battlefields

That vein the bloodless sky to tears

And curse the heavens black.

And as the hourglass ticks down

The sting of spring's once envious

song

Takes flight amongst the daffodils

To join the milling throng.

---

"THE KID WITH THE VELVET EYES"

He was a little over 21

But the drugs had prematurely aged

him.

His sallow face gave nothing away

And neither did his velvet eyes

That stared out towards a futureless

future.

Immune of love,

Hope,

An un-selfishness

They shone out like shitholes from a

shit world.

His hoody, baggy pants

And streetwise gangsta patter

Gave him instant membership into

that shit world.

Christ, whores only destroy their bodies, I thought,

These fuckers want to lobotomize

their minds too.

There is an eagerness about him that

reminds me

Of a hamster on a wheel.

And I wonder if it's the drugs or

His natural appetite for destruction

That drives the mania?

Living life at that speed he won't see

the wall coming.

It doesn't matter though,

There's a wall born every minute.

And the kid with the velvet eyes?

There'll be another one along soon

enough.

Wayne Riley is a poet/artist who lives in South Yorkshire, England. He has been published in various magazines and anthologies throughout the UK and the rest of the world. His YouTube channel, "STORIES FROM THE RABBIT HOLE", features over thirty videos showcasing his writing on a visual and musical platform. Also, his Dadaist collages and ready-made art pieces have been featured in various local galleries though poetry remains his one true love.