here I sit
Under thatched gazebo.
Gin, Tonic and Marlboro to keep me company.
The warm air broken by cool breezes blowing off the Bahamian sea.
The sweet smell of bug spray permeating the otherwise pristine natural beauty.
It adds to the charm, like sun cream stinks of beach days.
Gently the sea makes out with the shore below me. I’d feel like I was intruding had it been any other.
Peace pervades.
All woes and doubt settle into my feet.
A far cry from where they stir unwanted feelings in my belly and heart.
I could sit here all night.
I think I will.

She calls.
She waves at me.
Her French manicure frothing
Come she whispers.
Come with me to adventure.
Come with me to danger.  

Eventually I’ll go.
Despite all the corpses littering her depths
I wait for my hair to be pulled in and tied.
My sails to be hoisted and set
And my nose to be pointed
Towards the next port.

I knew a old dude from Du Preez
Who tried to **** over a tree
The tree was so high he ****** in his eye
And now the poor ******* can’t see.

Everytime I hit the front page
I am saddened by the tortured souls
Who populate its halls

I will not write sad poetry
I will endeavor to brighten these corridors
Feel free to join me.

The first odyssey is a difficult one
To step out into the blue and hope not to fall
But fall you will. Usually fast and quite hard
The next time you walk out yonder
It’s with more care, but the result is inevitable

Sometimes you leap off the cliff.
Sometime you inch off of it
Sometimes you don’t even see the edge

Eventually the landings become easier.
Your knees cushion you.
Your arms splayed for balance.
Is it getting easier?
No!

Sometimes you hit every outcrop on the way down
And land in a broken heap on the shore
But you know what
You’ll do it again, we all do.

A sea of buttery happiness
Is home to the roundest of islets
Side by side they wallow.

Quite naturally, the islands,
Are covered in ham.
Ham? Ham!
And lazily perched
On the hams highest point
Sits an avian sphere
Perfectly poached.

Straining against its
White little straight jacket.
Pop.

As far as I can see, elocution and declamation
Thee this and thou that
Whence and wheresoever
Isthmus and anemone
Vitriolic and Diatribe
Bloviate and aplomb

But feeling has no discrimination.
Rococo words are not needed
Simply put is just as good
Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.

Bon appetit