My
         body
                  is
                     broken
My
     soul
            forever
                     aching
I
   write
          to
             relieve
                    my pain
Just.
      to
        realized
                   that
Words
         bleed
             life
                 and
                       death.

have to fight for justice
justified child

love will prevail

one hiccup follows another
one sneeze can be debilitating
no one really minds
and minds are on show
lack lustre or plain
could not give a dam
poets can fester
poets always die.

Stand you on the cliff of uncertainty
all that is behind is done, what is there to come but air
let courage give you wings, to lift you up from dark despair
for nought is worse than standing still
and wondering on that bare accursed hill

better a silent tongue
than one constantly waggling
saying nothing

cacophony where roads lead to frustration
- frustration ultimately to war

cracked open the mysterious voice
and listened
to silence beating

I'm standing close by a river of rhyme,
where words cascade, in endless pantomime,
each line is a ripple, on the rugose water's crest,
but the chaotic current seems a randomized mess.

I see waves of words riding swells of sonnet,
into concrete verse, only to crash upon it.
There are dark plaintive whirlpools of elegy
and swirling haikus kissing off sharp envoi.

This river of rhyme could wash me away,
with its desperate currents of poetic dismay.
Its sensual verses can become a toxic wine,
oh, God, don’t let me drown in the river of rhyme.