Life is a film
Of one step forward
And two steps back

Life is a book
That tells the whole story
But you can only read it once

Life is an opportunity
That people control
For themselves

Life is an apple
Sweet or Sour
With a worm occasionally
In some

Life is time
Controlled by the person
To whom it belongs

Lovers are fools.
Words like "forever" and "always"
Dance across their lips
Hidden scribbles on notebook pages.
Lovers are fools.
Candles and rose petals
Cloud a room full
Of expectation and uncertainty.
Lovers are fools.
Blind, deaf, mute
And shrouded in moonbeams,
Unable to face the reality of the world.

Foolish lovers,
Open your eyes
For you will  f a l l  if you do not watch where you leap.
Foolish lovers,
How can you stop the time tables,
Step off the life-carousel -
Racing horses frozen in mid-air
And twinkle-light music driven to utter silence?
Foolish lovers,
Teach me how to use my fragile love
As an indestructible armor
Against the lightening bolts and ice storms,
Apocalypse and crop circle fears.

Lovers are fools.
She loves me all up,
So if being one with her means
Being a **fool…

I say,
                      *Bring it on.

Oh Madness is a lonely child,
from whom the many run away,
the odd thing is - when we are wild;
it is the one with whom we play.


© Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.

So I believed, I could build a lover

      One that could walk with me so perfectly

Under the bridge; secrecy we uncover,

      Because for me, I know it’s time to be

The architect of perfect love I need,

      So run with me, my love, throughout the rain

Forget restraints and chains, and we'll be freed,

      I've lost my will to search for love to tame

So be flawless; a perfection for me.

      I wish only to stop looking in vain

If only I could make her perfectly

      Then life would surely be free of that pain.


            Alas, I am no god, for there are none,

            My lov’r is vis’ble as the midnight sun.

A softly lit
    Candle burns
Glowing
    Dim
        &
   Bright
As the cool wind
   Sweeps
  Through a lonely night
Who will keep
      This lite alive?
Will we silently
          Watch
    Its dance
Of strife
        Thrashing
Violently
   In the whispers
Of the breeze
    This fire of mine
        Is brought
    To its knees
Flickering
    Hot
       &
       Cold
With grace
        And ease
   Its beauty shines
As the fire
Screams
  And I think
   This flame
       Is more
    Than it seems
In the eye
   Of the storm
As we flicker
     In the breeze

What I've Got,
I've got a lot
I got a third chance
to Resurrect my Life
Around Two People
Who Love Me, Love Me a Lot
In the Norhwest Heaven,
Heaven sent
A Chance to Reunite
with my Mother, she and I are just now getting a Chance
to get to Know each other.
My Mother's Husband is a Trip
An air of Fresh Breath,
a Mint Condiment
A House of Loving Animals,
Quite a Variety, I might add
A Place to Open my Spirit to Nature's Wonder,
To Let Her In, Hear Her Plea
Walk along within Her Comfort
And get to know the Inner Me
God bless, I've Got A lot.

{ My Poetry Home is not forgotten, I have been transformed by my online Family, I really Appreciate all the comfort and wisdom}

Today
I will find my heart
where you left it

Today
I will rinse it clean
and
sew it back into my chest

Today
I will buff the scars
and watch as it inhales
red

Today
I will be fully alive

but
Tonight
I will detach it from my veins
and lay with you again

This moment in time, about twelve
Years ago; a memory that keeps
Resurfacing these days.
I tell it over beers -not at all to brag-
To new friends and old
Aquaintances.
Self-employed, young and working
My hands to shreds to get by.
I had not eaten for days.

I'd drink litres of water
And bite my proud tongue every
Time I thought to ask my parents.
Again.
Already losing friends over debt,
I had exhausted all channels.
I'd keep my eyes on the street
Dreaming of coins.
Monday, nauseous with nothing
But myself to throw up.
In the barracks. Not a soul.
Fridge. I open it.
Boxes with lunches for thirty
Honest men. Wifemade leftovers.
Smell of homes.
I shut the fridge door.
On a shelf to my right,
A bag of buns long forgotten.
The mould only superficial.
Heaven underneath.

My eyes welled up as I ate.
I take no pride in managing to
Become that hungry
In a rich country during rich times.
But I will always remember
That I never touched
The boys' lunchboxes.

I was just sitting and drinking a mug of coffee
And looking at the proliferation of colours round the lawn
In one small corner of the garden one almost bare brown patch
Small green shoots there are starting to show through
Those tiny specs of green are pricelesss to me
More priceless than even my most expensive rose
You see those small green shoots have sprung from
a handful of seed I spread about a month ago
They were........Wild flowers seeds.
No pruning will I do to keep them in check
No fertiliser will they get nor water when its hot
They can get on and do their own thing
They will feed the butterflies and bees
I love them