MARK ANDREW HEATHCOTE

MARK ANDREW HEATHCOTE

THREE ELEMENTS OF LOVE

Just a few short moments after making out

… It's a likely time to bicker & shout!

The moment I don't hold you, I want to be gone.

The moment I wish for you, you are timid, afraid.

The moment you are not, I tremble-

Like some over boiling, cooking pot lid.

But when making out there is a quiet moment

Transparent, like the wick amidst a candle flame

That is pure passion & fluid lit

A hot scented bed of magic

Where three elements, are marinated,

And happily are married, equally, together as one.

FUNHOUSE OF MIRRORS

It's tragic how love turns a corner and,

One or the other forget to look back-

In search of the other and continues alone.

They then are forgetting the whole journey

A fault that is a multiplicity

A fault divided equally by two, me & you.

Its then love enters the funhouse of mirrors

Trips, downstairs, gets locked in a coal cellar.

It's tragic how, love like a mature wine

Can often turn bitter and disappoint.

SO THAT GOD MAY BE ALL IN ALL

God is He not all things to all people

All faiths all beliefs; love Him or Loathe Him,

Isn't He the oil on an artist's easel?

Chameleon without a pseudonym,

Ever present ageless one and, the same.

God transforms all things with His, alchemy

We, His base metals are put sorely aflame!

The metamorphosis a malady

Which, there's no escape other than burning

Either full to brimming with love or hate

In certainty, that fates ruthless churning

Whatsoever road, will appreciate?

God is He not all things to all people

And to men who liken a changeling child

Who grows weary crying like a seagull?

What welcoming land or shore, shall they find?

He the rainbow after the raging storm,

Stretches each our canvases, one and all

Frames every brush stroke to somehow transform

Those lowly, base elements, each their core.

WHO DOESN’T LIKE THE SOUND

OF THEIR OWN VOICE?

Who doesn't like the sound of their own, voice?

I understand, and I agree

And I believe deep down what you say

That you indeed truly, believe

Is real to you, to me you believe, it to be utterly, true.

Yes, I understand, and I agree

But even truth can't be trusted in the hands

Of a faithful, few that'll believe anything

As long as it helps their moronic good, cause.

It's a maze twisting and turning this langue

Of course, it's all plagiarism anyway

We are forever circling chasing our own, tails

Pen chanting, preaching part and parcel

Proofreading our own, misunderstandings

Sharing our own experiences our own, existence,

I understand and I, wholeheartedly agree

Unequivocally, unquestionably, undeniably,

Categorically, indisputably my friend

It all sounds reasonable to me

Don't get me wrong I support your sentiments

Your integrity isn't in any question

But I forget what it was we were talking about

Before I rudely interrupted you

What was it you were about to say?

MARK ANDREW HEATHCOTE

MARK ANDREW HEATHCOTE is from Manchester in the UK, Author of “In Perpetuity” a book of poems published by a CTU publishing group ~ Talents Unleashed He works as an adult learning difficulties support worker, who began writing poetry at an early age at school. Mark enjoys spending his leisure time off work reading and writing and spending time gardening.