where hate ain't between us,

and my soul stands still,

from a sad seat of rust.

where seas of time stand rough,

when skins aren't just weapons,

just to justify us.

i can't see you in moonlight,

but i'll catch you in the rain.

only spoken words can keep me sane.

I've written letters of complaint, and I've made it crystal clear
That constant life insurance adds, are an insult to the ear
A thousand pounds near minimum, I still think that's quite dear
We resent your death reminders, every day and year by year

I'd much prefer an answer, but I'm simply being ignored
Your only interest seems to be, is we all get insured!
We're offered bribes to temp us, if a policy is scored
Vouchers for our honored dead, well that is no reward

A collaboration with the reaper, do you have to get so close?
It doesn't matter if its pure, or if it is grandiose
Biologically it's necessary, but from a certain point it's gross
We cannot deny we've had our fill, and now we're comatose

Larynxes are beyond sore, our throats are stuffed and rammed
Why do the brakes in programming, have to be so crammed?
Material that destroys your soul, should be condemned and ******
Pure profit over sympathy, with the public that you've scammed

Stop praying on vulnerable, stop banking on the needy
The volume of competitors, are getting far too greedy
Cash grabing is hardly fair, it's bordering on seedy
Would we like these adverts purged, the answers "yes indeedy"

Bleak broadcasting is of the scale, it's something we detest
Everyone is sick to death, and I really must protest
Don't you know that your campaign, is making us depressed?
We won't take this lying down, so please lay it to rest

Poor undertakers don't exist, their service price is shocking
Tailored suits don't justify, the dying that their mocking
A sordid quest for your demise, as heavens door is knocking
Caskets and a hired hurse, an expense that sure needs blocking

The pretence of the smarmy gent, his mannerisms are just fake
Pretending that they feel your pain, but their just on the make
Business deals are organised, and its not for heavens sake
Why don't we concentrate on life, instead of hearts that brake

Low cost funerals that's a laugh, who are you trying to kid
You even charge us for the nails, that seals the coffin lid
Twenty companies in excess, touting for your hard earned quid
Con artist's are in your face, waiting for the poor man's bid

It takes more than a few pennies, so don't raise your expectations
Cos in the end your still relying, on family and Relations
Don't waste your time on searching, through the mass of tv stations
It's impossible to get away, from funerals and cremations

Let me be a drop
of monsoon rain
Let me feel your lips
once again.

This love of your
green shyness
makes me alive
from loneliness.

Let me forget the pain
of drought
Let me be with you
just to get wet.

Your dancing barefoot
in raindrops
makes my eyes cool
and fills my hopes.

Let me be your
mountain shower
Let me flow down
in your deep river.

This bride of clouds
and lightning flash
means, it's going to rain
to make nature fresh.

hearts of gold
once in evergreen
fade to brown

maybe it will empty the corners,

of the room in my mind.

silence the movie in my life,

playing possum every night.

promising hand holds in a room,

where i heal closer to you.

shaking my soul,

like some ***** broom.

violently chanting a mess to the moon,

only finding the grass.

counting dimes for another drink,

remembering your face when i sing:

"part one", in my dreams,

where i wake up a fable,

then i fumble around the noon.

shaking in corners of sun,

charging a battle towards no one.

silently losing my speech at night,

replaying every thing, made right.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)