The September Selected Poet is Matthew Wilson

Please feel free to email Matthew at: richardstokes567@yahoo.co.uk

THE HANGMAN’S TREE

In the dark, the hooded man
came to me,
and asked to dance under
watch of a hangman’s tree.

His eyes held no light gleaming
in that fleshless sphere,
as we danced over moss strewn
graves of men without fear.

Only the dead quake at
being alive,
from my partner came no show of air,
from his mouth, did maggots strive

to break free.
Until the dawn when he fell
apart from bone to bone.
And at the grave of my father,

found myself again, alone.

DOOR TO DOOR GUN SELLER

Do not listen to what they say,
the world won’t end at six today.
2012 is gone and still we breathe,
the angels sing, the demons grieve.

Please don’t take your gun to school,
ignore the hate, don’t let it rule.
Do not think the world will end
and you have the right for laws to bend.

Me and you have years to live,
so much good and love to give.
So do not take your gun outside,
the law lives on, no place to hide.

The world will spin tonight and more,
the business man will go from door to door.
Today is not the last, please hear me say;
Do not take you gun outside today.

THE END ON CANVAS

An artist draws what he sees
is the word of gospel for budding painters.
Richard spent that evening
drawing stars through the window.

He used all his yellow
dotting thin streaks across the canvas.
Resorting to deep orange when a bright
light took his fancy from the moon.

It took him a while to get the flames
flickering on the comet right.
At first he had to strain his eyes,
but as it came into focus, he captured

its spitting details more easily.
Just before it struck the world, he thought
he had captured its burning hatred of man
perfectly.

BEST OF FRIENDS

Come on now, Frank.
No matter what he said.
For a cricket ball,
you can’t use Jim’s head.

You can’t pull out his guts
and make a bail,
you’ll stain the grass,
be in trouble without fail.

Let’s play a nice game, Frank
while the sun is out.
I know you have mental problems
but do not scream and shout.

Let us sit in the boat
and have our fun,
hold this rock while I tie your hands,
and get my gun.          

Matthew Wilson, 30, is a UK resident who has been writing since he was small. Recently these stories have appeared in The Horror Zine, Starline Poets Association and Sorcerers Signal. He is currently editing his first novel and can be contacted at twitter on @matthew94544267.