You were different from
others, away from home and hypocrisy,
unlistening to the fiat
of karma.

There should not be
any put-on face. Hibiscus will tell the truth.

Sanguine. I will again
invoke the bride of moon.
Time to go for a simile.

Eros tips. I educate
the limbs, not to go
for the anima. The bearded face.

You had ruffled the tranquil
poem. I cannot gather
the tender moments.

Find me somewhere
Between
What you say
And what you
Mean.

Find me somewhere
Behind
What you see
And what you
Find.

I am found in the darkest
Spaces
Of what you think and what have you
Within good graces.

You are the sunshine,
And I am the grey.
I am the night time,
And you are the day.

And if I gave what light I have,
To bask in yours endlessly,
I would give it up gratefully,
To be yours entirely.

The smell of cows and feed
blow in from the north
the cool winds soothe
after the heat of summer

Days begin to get shorter
animals begin stocking cache's
moving quickly back and forth
searching for quick meals

Changing of birds
White wing and Mourning dove
Ducks and geese of all kinds
migrate through to the south

Sandhill cranes,
honk loudly
announcing their arrival
and with them, the season changes

Summer to Fall
and straight into winter
as the years go by
they do so faster and faster

Watch out for hawks
out on the stalk
looking for the meek
ready to prey upon the weak

Piranhas walk on two feet
looking for fear in those they meet
searching for those to exploit
at this they are quite adroit

Ruins of a once great wall
now little more than a path
leading to nowhere
and nothing but pain
on either side

Jagged rocks reach skyward
surrounded by woeful mists
a metaphor and future of all
conceive, improve, rise
and fall into chaos and death

Only to be found, but not learned from
by the next generations
exposed by archeologists
researching the past
that is also the future

There in the belly of the city
Way down there where it's dark and gritty
Lives a very complexe man
There in his Window he stands
Watching the atrocities that parade down his street
He's seen the dealer's and the junkies meet
The homeless that set at their feet
The thugs that prey on the weak
Children abused that turn them meek
It plays out every day of the week

He's seen it all
He's watched humanity fall
It's hard for him to digest
On this life's problems his mind rest
He knows there's not much that he can do
He watches and writes it all down, he's one of the few
Sent to bear witness to the inhumanity of man
To make us think of where in this life we stand

Yes he is a poet
His watched it all and wrote it
He has a big heart
Which makes it hard to play his part
Of watcher in the tower
As those below cower
But his calling he is sure of
To watch the dying of love
To watch the darkness closing in
To watch all of man's sin
To sound the alarm
Of humanity going wrong

He stands at his Window and cries out
But no one pays attention to his shouts
So he soaks the page with ink and tears
Hoping that at last somebody hears