Out of Sight

Longing,
The airport departure hall kind,
Beyond the last wave
When even the shadow of you
Has disappeared from my view
Leaving only the ache behind.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Chorus

It’s a long way until tomorrow
When I’m caught within the storm,
With the choir of all my sorrows
Singing on until the dawn.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Making Your Way

The desert defines you after a while.
You become the trek
Not flesh and bone,
Like sand now
As you freeze at night
And burn in the furnace heat
Of the noonday sun.
Your identity as fluid and false
As the trick of the mirage
That guides you away from home.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Derelicts

Like Derelicts they loom over the city, these
Skeletal remains. Two drunkards clasping hands
Because they fear they may come crashing down,
Without a companion by their side.

As the Derelicts sway in time
To the music of winter winds.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Temptation

Is it a sin?
This giving in to temptation,
If we allow
Our bodies to entwine.
To unleash
The maelstrom electric;
Risk it all
On fate’s game of chance,
The kiss of Valentine.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Too Blind

I can’t see you,
Just the echoes
Where you used to be.
Because I’m a lost boy
Confused about the direction,
Whether I’m heading
For heaven or hell.
For I stopped feeling
When I started bleeding
Many moons ago.
And all that’s left
Is half a bottle of whiskey
And these scars
That keep my eyes shut,
I’m down on my knees
Begging for redemption
Knowing the game is up.
For there is just an absence
A black hole in the aether
And the echoes
Where you used to be.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Busker

photo credit: Rainy Night via photopin (license)

photo credit: Rainy Night via photopin (license)

Three chords and a dream,
Dirty hat full of pennies,
Streetlights not spotlights.
Shouting out in the rain
Songs for unbelievers.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Godless

Creating a path for the godless
On a Saturday night.
From the lounge bar
To the chippie.
From the condom machine to regret
As you lay down in the gutter,
Nursing a hangover,
In the Sunday morning light.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Red Light

photo credit:  via photopin (license)

photo credit: via photopin (license)

This is not Pretty Woman.
There is no knight in shining armour
Coming to rescue you.
Just hands holding you down,
Bodies that buy you,
People that own you
But don’t see you.
When you were once
Somebody’s sister,
Somebody’s mother,
Somebody’s sweetheart.
But always you’ll be
Somebody’s daughter,
Somebody’s Child.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Hometown

How you been?
I haven’t seen you around,
In none of those places
In the old hometown,
Everyone of them,
That old familiar crew,
Sends their best wishes
And that they are missing you.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.