When I wake up in the morning,
It will be a new day
And the beginning of a new life.

And the sun will be shining.

Drowse, sink, escape
Until free to sleep
There you will fall deep
In love while the nape
Of your neck and the shape
Of it is softened by touching with a sweep
Of my pressing lips that creep
Towards yours. There your hair will drape;
Fold with light
As the lamp finds your face
And the fire finds the night
To where the moon finds its space;
There the desire to kiss will reach its height
And fade and leave without a trace.

©Jack Aylward

what's there to write about
a floor scrubber?

in the sun on my shoulder
its light plastic touch
polythene wrapper
gaily fluttering in the wind
breathing its last light of freedom
before consigned to lifelong prison
standing damp dreaming to dry
but for that fleeting time
it rests on my shoulder
comforted on flesh and bone
on the brief journey
from the shop to a nook
enjoying the glances of passerby
curious my carrying it
a hint of boast in my gait
flaunting as if a magic wand
the floor scrubber transient yet eternal
a glorious poem material
a poem name
and a man's declaration

there's no shame
doing your work
your way.

The worst part
Isn't the pain
Though it hurts

The worst part
Isn't the sadness
Though that's horrible

No,
The worst part
Is the emptiness

That feeling
When you don't see the step
And you fall down

When you try to sit down
And someone's moved the chair

When you reach for support
Only to find it's abandoned you

That is the worst part
Of saying goodbye

I'd strike against your planet's shield,
Fall as a streak of heated light.
I'll grant your wish and be your hope,
But if I survive and hit the ground,
Would you keep me as your "meteorite"?


*or should i die with just a spark?

No one gets married knowing they'll divorce.
No one starts something knowing it'll eventually hurt.
For "togethers" was sparked by love,
and its death shall end w/ love.
Loving yourself.
*"It's enough, my friend..."

Let me tell you the story of my death:

Carving words on the bark of a tree
A poem that means life to me.
Glows through night, my soul delights!

        "Exist beyond my death, oh please...
            So I could live in bliss at least."

But they cut the tree, so mindlessly
Illegally. ****, selfishly!
In chainsaw, I was murdered.

        A massacre,
      ... a massacre of my every being!!

I'm a ghost that forgot, the best in me
Now writes relentlessly
To relive the words, once killed in greed
I found the "papers*", the poems you lead...

Then before me, is some piece of me
they killed.

I died a hero,