you should not push an opinion
nor force it into a small mind
it may explode at the ears
and lose the hearing the next time
when opportunity may arise
where those words may be recieved
into small parts, in smaller bits
and pushed in with ease

I have a monkey
for my thoughts
hanging around
dangling down
by the tail
till it’s caught

often chasing
swing to swing
a string of a thing
I cling
carrying the thought

people say
no monkeying around
stop the thinking
the red wine
your drinking
and cage your mind

but with a jacket
and matching
white pyjamas
Tonight, dinner’s at the circus
and I’m going nuts
and bananas

I need
the right
timing
to post
more
of my
poetry
faster
and after
Suzanna
Berlinsky

If I could hold
what hands won’t

If I can have
what hands don’t

If I can smile
and take note

I can handle anything.

You tell me how much you love me
with the softest of subtle eyes
your words can convince my soul of anything
I’d believe even your sweetest lies
you’re fair and your face so beautiful
so sweetly your smile grows
still, I could fall so madly in love with you
even with something dangling down your nose

softly speaking words you  ‘woo’ me
satisfying the secrets  in my soul
you drown and delight my deepest parts
so deep you’d leave a hole
amazingly, you amaze me
a gift without ribbons or bows
you’d unwrap me with the slightest wink
even with something dangling down your nose

All you need to do, is touch me
my heart hides up in my throat
I’m so ‘lovesick’ it feels like seasick
you know how to rock my boat
blow my mind and wipe my memory
I offer you a beautiful soft rose
hold it close, to sniff and smell
and leave the thing dangling down your nose

A poem is not a place
to belong
It’s hard and rough
treacherous and long
words are wounded
bled and blended
the rhymes are lies
stiff short and ended
lines are cut
and dissected
meanings fray
if not mended
a poem is no place
too small
to find your space
without a wall
or ground to pace
no not at all
no support or hold
for a poor poet
not to fall

your empty words are not heavy
…they’re  hollow
it’s the hidden meanings that trip me
though your sharp words fail me
they may slice but can’t cut me
and if I were to fall
I’ll slip down your tongue
…hang off your lip
if you were to speak at all

I want to die before you do
I know it’s selfish, but it’s true
for all the pain I fear to know
would have me desire
to die before you go

I dread the memories we make
coming back to torment me
and for my sake
I’d rather die and know
that I’ve left you behind
than I to live and let you go

I don’t think I can bare
the weight of another breath
if you first leave,
every thought of you, I do
I’ll relive another death

Nor do I think I can carry
another hour of an empty day
where you once filled every second
and now you’ve gone away

I’d rather die than miss you
I’m sorry, but It’s true
I know I’ll leave you with pain
and you may or may not live again
but, I could never be without you
so I’d rather die before you do
in shame

One day she just stopped talking,
so I stopped too
I don't know if that's what she wanted,
It’s just her words became few
I thought I’d give her some flowers
Maybe somehow I’d get through
The flowers weren’t as pretty as her
But she stopped seeing too
Now I just visit and I hold her
At least she still feels the same
She’s still as beautiful as she always been
Though she barely knows my name

i will try to write a poem without using the moon
ignoring the language of angels and gods
of heavenly hosts and celestial beings
they seem to always take the place of the way I am really feeling
i will try to write with words you have always wanted me to use
but this time I will choose
between the white tunes and hues
and maybe you will understand me
maybe you will see
when I pull back the drapes from the poetry
with out all the shy stars and bashful butterflies
you will see,
Me.

I don’t know where it’s been
I just know where it got

I don’t know where it is
I just know where it’s not

I don’t know how or why
I just know where is what

while you’re away
and forever
be never further
than closer than ever
to me

may you always stay
and never
leave here
for here is nearer
than you’ll ever be

I told her, how her eyes met me at the horizon
and how often they looked lonely
she didn’t heed or pay me any attention
so I told her a little more slowly

I told her how my heart bled red roses
and how I grew them for her only
she hadn’t noticed my stare and poses
so I told her a little more slowly

I told her, a touch is a thesaurus of meaning
and each trace tells a story
she flinched at my reading
so I told her a little more slowly

I told her, if my words could speak but a kiss
she’d hear them soft and loudly
she sighed when she felt my lips
so I told her a little more slowly.

“I don’t think I can take it anymore”,
she cried.

“Where would you take it anyway, if you still could”, I asked

“What do you mean…I don’t get it?”she said

“Never mind”, I replied

“You cant take anything anywhere if at first you didn’t get it”.

You can do this
not because, you are able
nor because you are strong
because without this
you remain the same
and this,
gives you permission
for change
to become the new you
everyday

There is an oasis in the middle of my dream
I spend a nights rest at the edge of its stream
Beneath palm trees and cool of shade
I close my eyes where my body is laid

Silhouettes of chain linked camels at sunrise
I squint and peer out through half lit eyes
A band of gypsies, sing, dance and play
The music is faint but it wakes me today

In bed between concrete and cement
Staring at a ceiling I wish to forget
A cold city of asphalt and bitumen grey
I’ll wait yet again, tonight, to be on my way

give or get

I wonder if a poem
can cause
you to pause
just at the title
and then sigh
and in wonder why
something so powerful
can be so wonderful
that you forget
to read or need
anything more
beautiful
than this
to cry

I’m on a road trip
It’s a while since I’ve written
Still there’s nothing like writing poetry
It’s my best any trip
Long roads are better enjoyed
With words floating
In and out my head
Even the most beautiful of sunsets
can be ignored
when that perfect word
sits right next to me in the passenger seat
talking with me till I stop driving
to pick up a paper and pen

A poet has but a few
favourite things
they are much too busy
writing
dreaming
the day away
not wasting
a thought caught
on a day of play

A poet has a few favourite books
yet their imagination
is as good as any
read in their head
are heroes, hurts and hopes
flipping pages in their mind
a librium of poetry and notes

If asked, about their favourite hue
they have no colour but words
squeezing line
mixing rhyme
with feelings
close enough
paintings plainly heard
through strokes
spoken
without brush

A poets favourite things
are made up of life
and what life sings
pain, suffering, simple joys
a poets favourite toys
are madness
and the many things
they employ,
that brings birth
breath and wings
into the poetry we all enjoy

my old shoe carries me
through walks of life
the dirt, dust and poo
through to the end
and if my shoe can do
then how much the more
you too, can too
my friend

“I’ve just had enough!”

“Enough of what?” I asked

“How can you not see it?” she cried

“See what?”, I said

”Simply, how I’ve just had enough”

“Oh…no, I see”, I confessed.

“Indeed, you’ve taken more than your share”.

“I’m so high, I can fly”,
said the butterfly
“I’m so low I can glow”,
said the worm
And together, the two
one lit, one flew
and arrayed the earth
below and high

among all the fears there sleeps a bear
who’s paws are soft and hair is fair
afraid to wake and arouse a tear
there sleeps a mouse by claws so near
between the two there’s an open space
where chivalry and strength finds a place
among hope and a dream it will lay
till mice find courage and get away

I decided a long time ago
as long as a piece of string
I would be the one to cut it short
if you were to cut it thin
yes, It was a long time ago
along a long and lonely path
I longed to stretch it out
what you would cut in half
I decided a long time ago
as long as you were here
long is such a long ago
I, short of memory,
long to remember

I’m just a broken man
and broken, yes, I  am.
It’s nothing new, I’m just old.
Ever since I was young I’d been told,
”It’s the boy with the crack”,
and that fine line around my soul
formed the piece, I now lack
and I became,
‘The boy with the hole’

All along they would say
“Hey, boy with the missing piece,
I’d like a part, if that’s okay,
and can I take one please?”
and they'd take what they can
and break what they would
left me less than the man I was
holding only to what I could

Now, they point about
at the piece from my breast
where my heart fell out
from that hole in my chest.
They watch and laugh
and waiting perhaps,  
to steal another piece
and watch me collapse.

Yet still standing strong
though I’ve a hole in my head
“Just keep that  brain bigger”,
my father once said.
“Beware my son,
for one thing is true,
everyone will want to take
a piece of you”

Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that's turning running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow to a tunnel of its own
Down a hollow to a cavern where the sun has never shone
Like a door that keeps revolving in a half forgotten dream
Or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face
And the world is like an apple whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind!
Keys that jingle in your pocket, words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly, was it something that you said?
Lovers walking along a shore and leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway and the fragment of a song
Half remembered names and faces, but to whom do they belong?
When you knew that it was over you were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning to the color of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind, like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!

Wait, hold up
Did she actually say she loved me?

Wait, hold on
Are they actually our kids?

Wait till next appointment
Are they actually the results?

Wait, give me a sec
Was that life that just passed us by?

I am so alone
can you hear me?

Hello…

Hello?

Why is it every time
I want to write a poem

that is real
that is raw

I start every line with
“I am alone”

Hello??

Can you hear me?






Is anyone there?