Tag Archives: k morris poem

Under The Stars

Looking for a saviour under the stars

Men slow then stop their cars.

Girls under street lamps stand

Waiting for their lord’s command.

Needle pricks scar their arms

Still men discern a certain charm.

Girls think of their next fix

Man moistens his dry lips.

“I seek a saviour of a kind

In the hope some inner peace I may find”

He says shuddering at her needle lines.

“Your saviour I will be

Provided you can pay my fee.

A girl must live. Love isn’t free”,

She says gazing at a distant tree.

She thinks of her girlhood not so long ago

Of trees their boughs bent under the weight of snow.

She thinks “once I could not be bought

Before hard drugs their damage rought”.

The man holds out cold hard cash

She takes it with a bitter laugh.

Stepping in through the car’s open door

She wonders if she can take much more.

Her eyes fixed on the stars above

As he makes what he calls love.

She thinks of the knife at home

How easy to end it when all alone.

The pain is there behind his eyes

Inwardly two souls cry.

He stares at the moon above

Desperately probing for a kind of love.

Afterwards two empty vessels they depart

Both with sore and aching hearts.


This is the place of passing delight,

Where souls are lost at dead of night.

This is the place of lust and sighs,

Where something in each man dies.

This is the place of creaking boards,

Where men unsheathe their mighty swords.

This is the place of guys called John,

Where satisfaction, once obtained, they are gone.



One Night Stand

The passage of time muddles the brain, I don’t recall your name.

Perhaps Marie or Melisa, no matter its all the same.

Though some would consider it shocking, it meant absolutely nothing,

You kept on your stockings,

I feared my neighbours knocking.

It signified everything and nothing,

A girl in suspenders and stockings.



London Rain

The platitudinous things people say,

The rain will wash them all away.

The rat race of a London day,

The rain will cleanse this all away.

Rain, nature’s balm to a troubled mind,

Within us inner peace we find.

A quiet place in which to dwell,

Aloof from this London hell.




Time, as the shower runs away.

Will she not stay?

Each line upon the face,

Speaks of her fading grace.

The girl’s  plaster smile.

He is in denial.

“Will you remain a  while?”

He asks.


“No, this can not last.

I see the chasm yawning vast.

The hours,, like sand run away.

The dawn rises, I can not stay”.




As obscene as the breaking of glass,

Or the whisper of gas from the past.

“The jews are mean” you said.

Dead bodies in a camp.

The lamp shines on the food divine.

You drink more wine.

A train somewhere in the distance passes,

Somewhere glass smashes.

I Am The Girl Who Wasn’t There

I am the girl who wasn’t there.

I did not sit upon that chair,

playing provocatively with my hair.

I did not drink that expensive wine,

While gazing on your paintings fine.

I did not recline under the quilt so red,

Or moan with exstasy in your bed.

If by chance, an earing she should find,

Worry not, it is not mine.


Virgin white sheets.

His icey feet.

Two bodies meet.

“Why are you never warm?

I feel a storm coming.

I see dark clouds.

Do you hear the thunder’s voice angry and loud?

But no. though the sky is forlorn,

There will be no storm.

The weather needs to break.

This humidity I can not take.

I long for the cooling rain.

It will cleanse my fevered brain.

No, please,

your rough paws I do not need!”