Perched on the archaic tree branch,

like gargoyles perpetual watch from cathedrals top.

Eyes like golden moons imagined by Lucas's mind.

The sapient owl sits,

like a grandfather on a sultry summers day.

Rocking in a weathered chair,

giving wisdom away.

Hope you were intelligent enough to take it.

Scanning the profoundness of her nocturnal kingdom,

seeking soft grey reward.

only the best for the Queen.

Aeonianly associated with sagacity,

oh, saccharine Athene must have loved your dreamy eyes

and wished for your internal light.

Who wouldn't want to rule the night?

Mute tempest and the sagacious owl has flown,

did I even hear her hoot?

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

Wilde, Piaf and Morrison

Molière, Noir and Chopin

I wish to lay amongst you

listening to your still thoughts,

that used to be so loud.

Now in sempiternal slumber,

Souls that wonder

this necropolis of fallen visionaries.

Abelard and Heloise,

lovers in the aeonian embrace,

under the soil of a magical sullen place.

Your love still reverberates,

under the soil of a magical sullen place.

Gericault, are you on your raft?

Sailing through forever.

Proust, did you find your lost time?

analysing the human mind.

De Balzac, your quill eternalized

Forever together the stillness of great minds

Who shaped us.

Who shaped time.

I wish to lay amongst you

and listen.

Till the cessation of time.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

Without my medulla oblongata,

I would not breathe,

and my heart would cease to beat.

My amygdala reminds me of the hazards everywhere,

without my hippocampus,

I wouldn't even be aware.

Without my cerebrum, I'd be a mannequin.

Without my cerebellum I ....... sorry can't recollect.

Without the prefrontal cortex, well I have no emotions about that.

Without my encephalon,

I wouldn't have a soul.

Without a soul,

I would never have been a poet.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

Are you comfortable in your skin?

Do you relish who you are?

You are like the wind on a pluvial day.

You blow the victualing waters away.

Do you relish the things you have done?

Quandaries arise and all you do is run.

I cerebrate you're a dream killer.

"oh look, there's dirt on my mirror"

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

Ablaze a rainbow riot of colours,

I rollick in the verdant field.

Hues of light, like jovial clowns, silly and insouciant.

Backdrop, azure blue, saffron sunset.

Life passes by in the blink of an eye.

Relish Mother Nature's gratuitous gifts.

Meandering on this picturesque path,

excitable butterflies dance.

Saccharine-scented air fills my lungs.

The shadow of the mountain covers me like a woollen blanket and nurturing soft kisses.

Blissfully free.

isalittlebroken

The flowers in my mind are growing just fine.

Lots of minerals in the sands of time.

All these gardens I meticulously tended to are mine.

I have blood-red roses and sunburst yellow dandelions.

Welkin-blue hydrangeas in erratic lines.

Emerald-green chrysanthemums that shine.

Resplendency in the negative spaces,

endeavouring to conceal the tenebrosity in obscure places.

Call me a selfish gardener or a recollection farmer.

I water these gardens with tears of lost dreams.

I sing to the flowers with my mute screams.

but all my visitors will ever optically discern,

is my garden of unparalleled beauty.

Stuart Johns

It’s inside me, benevolence.

Behind aged bars, in a prison cell of my methodical design.

Hope, love and humane concern in a locked cage while the world burns.

I am my own malicious jailer.

The warden of woe.

Harsh consequences, under the self-imposed draconian rule.

Set ablaze my soul,

I don’t want it anymore.

So many wasted words spoken.

Now my mind has collapsed inwards with a medicated intrusion.

It is a little broken.

For the truth of this poet's life, is I have over one persona and recollection of none.

I am a soul hoarder, diagnosed with

Dissociative identity disorder

I am them; they are I

This is my truth.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

Innocence

Beneath the habit are you pure?

like a mountains spring refreshing allure.

Do you seek soft, forbidden pleasures or the divine cure?

Blood on godforsaken streets reflecting flickering streetlights.

The vagrant dances in homeless insanity.

She runs down the cracked desolate sidewalk,

to find the death of innocence at the stop sign.

Streetwalker smiles at her with red ruby lips.

"well what do you want bitch, a kiss"

Now she has tasted the loss of innocence.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns

I have woken unwanted from medicated slumber.

My nightmares still cling to me like newborn babes.

The air of winter cold attacks me with unseen arms.

A new monster born to the wolves.

Did I indulge in whiskey's golden warm embrace, voraciously sucking at her glass breast?

Now I pay the price with an empty wallet and a violent galactic hangover.

if these walls could talk, I would listen to their melancholy remembrances.

How he danced with the devil again but somehow remains.

trapped between medicated happiness and the unseen.

Stuart isalittlebroken Johns