We go one way
Time goes the other
Patience is a myth
In your merry youth
We rush to the zenith of our folly
and so quicken our demise
Time goes its way and cares not what you do
And try as you might
You never can catch up
And you never can evade its ravages
These spindly legs
Once carried a proud athlete
These tired old legs
Were the pride of a queen of the ramp
But now alas, time has played an ace
and won the race
Time goes its way
And we go where we are bound

Here we are,
Still standing, our feet nailed to the ground,
Never bowing, relentlessly fighting,
Here we are,
Regretting, never forgetting,
Ruthlessly moving forward.
Here we are,
Bloodied, beaten,
Never giving up.

I stopped by to touch the Soul of the Moon
One more time
Before The body of a man claims me
In this moment of Giving

Curtains drawn tightly,
Now Quickly thrown aside
Open for all to See...
An animals cage revealed
The Paris of Illumination....
A Secret Rendevous with Choice
...Above Thought

Emergence of the Fearless One
Angels Harkening
And So It Is.

and the moon wraps me in its dust
a cold dust that freezes my sore skin
as the stars twinkle in a warm vigil
over my yearning body ablaze with
the fire of quests still to be satisfied
together the moon and the stars brew
a romance in bloom like wild flowers
starring the open fields with colour
the old moon weeps cheerless songs
    melodies never before heard
by untutored human ears
or played by arthritic fingers
in search of a miraculous cure
as acidic woes from dim pasts and distances **** nascent dreams
stranger than the quirkiest fictional tales
is the story of cold moons in tropical skies
nevertheless i shall lean forever towards that dream
whose promise is a pale shadow of reality

who knows which hour it starts,
which minute, rhyme or reason.
breaking of rules,        our hearts
open.                         split a season.

on spring,                 slight chance,
light            or prayers can change.
sons      move in a prouder stance,
yet others rage.

black bird sings   early
the same bird calls late.
sense that nearby
one year came straight.
spring slides. the
moon draws tides.



sbm.

the first day
i dreamed a bear
walked past me
while i was in bed.

He took no notice
and turned
and walked back
down the stairs.

The next day
i dreamed
i caught
a hundred sharks.

They were going
in the freezer
to feed us
through the winter.

My dreams seem to be
saying
that I needn't be afraid
of things with big teeth.

Sometimes
our dreams
see clearer
than we do.

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.
there is snow within me and wild winds outside my door,
and i watch from the window while my crops wither.

i silence the sun.

he stands at my gate with nimble fingers and begs to be let in,
but i have always been a grove of shadows,
and he knows there is no space for him.

sometimes,
often times,
i am cold.

but other times,
spring finds me.
it lifts me up into its gentle arms and suddenly i am a field of clovers,
lucky,
rising up.
suddenly i am baby’s breath, i am pure,
i am a blooming hyacinth.

i am warm.

i know what a change in season feels like.

and i try to be loving.
but on the days when i have gotten up
and planted my seeds,
you are still tangled in thick black weeds and roots.
on the days when i am a rose,
you are the thorns,
and on the days when i grant the sun a chance to speak,
you take his tongue.

i know your pain; i have lived it.
but i will not give up my songbirds just because you are only left with crows.

i know what a change in season feels like,
but you are always winter.
and sometimes, i am spring.

so i will flourish.
and i am sorry.

(a.m.)

i stopped singing siren songs
some time ago
at least i wrote it in a poem
once

i stopped singing songs

the little bird stopped
singing in my ear

there were no words

you asked me not to make
a project out of you
and i nodded along

i am not so unbroken
that i could
fix
any thing

there are always
consequences

they've chewed on me
before