Melting down, crossing barriers, breaking out, stepping round.

Pieces fragmenting, character isolating.  Green-acid, hair follicles, white is the blank slate, painting blues with reds.

Freaks from a sideshow, muscles in the sea, six-packs in a grog-shop, dancing improperly.

Beguiled by your bounce, sleep-walking this town.  Fine is the white wine, poisoning the liver, spining on a sixpence, ******* follows dinner.

Leather brown, bomber down, hit the bottom, rise again.  The resounding sounds bounce around.  It helps to misunderstand the plan, so follow these directives if you can.

Green amygdala your orange eyes create suspense.

Hipster blue, the denim, black boots, and those paperback books.

He walks with attitude,
reads for romance.

Magnetic the charm bringing them in.  Stood in the centre as the hurricane spins.  Tethered to nothing, not even a creed.  A miracle in the making, an empty street, a canvas unpainted, a jewellery box recieved.

Deep in the fox hole, orange explosions.
A friend in god, we pray and hope.

Enemy within us be free.

We were fighting for survival.

Field hospital. Infection cured;
maggots eat dead flesh.

Deep in the moment:
 
Explosions, gunfire, and screams.

Together in a tigers' tooth, we wish
to transcend our fears.

Green fatigue smothers the mind as purple smoke drifts in the breeze.  The earth comforts with shimmering grass, but these illusions never last.

Time begins its chaotic spin.  Voices call out.  Many languages and dialects I hear.  

A dragonfly hovers, my eyes become hers.

The green fatigue fades, the smoke fragments, the voices so far below.  Slowly we rise, leaving everything behind.

Freedom on a wingtip,
together we fly.

A heat I could no longer tolerate.  I gulped from the bottle as sweat drenched my brow.  

The lines had been drawn.  Arbitary divisions separating positions.  Journeys were to be undertaken, 'long is the road' was the chant.

Tibetian prayer flags flapped in the winds. Abandoned newspapers whirled as if suspended on strings.

Wake up!

The bottle was empty.  Our time had arrived.  Hearts were beating.  This day was sublime.

Rust tipped leaves suspended, the snowblind continues.
Footsteps mark a new path, deviation forges revelation.

Amongst the bamboo flutes a single melody draws me in.
Blues and greens merge, the kingfisher dives from view.

Sun bleaches the remains, fragments, pieces of yesterday.
Blood drips from the dagger's edge - this ritual of rebirth.

English tea and scones with cream.  

A cigarette dangles from his lips.  The blonde-haired girl watches as the smoke rises.  Between them a newspaper sits upon the table.  

They have stopped to peruse their purchases:

The Bletchley code-breaker story always enthralls, and John Lennon never grows old.

Smoke rings continue to rise, eventually to fade away .

Red is the smoke rising, blue is the heart of the moon, orange rests alone...

Purple are the clouds in hiding.

Everyday is a rewrite, the opportunity to redraft the first verse.  My purple high-tops strike the sidewalk as I converse in morse code.

Regrets?

Just a few thoughts can lead us astray.  

Today I'm the poem walking upon a blank slate, re-painting the canvas within...

A Mediterranean heat warms my back. 

Her laughter still echoes, another reminder of those sun-drenched days.

Mountain tops, snow covered...

A mountain-biker with the funky frame, the picnic bench, the poems.

Walking, wandering, contemplating the first draft.

Sleek lines curve around the mind, stimulating the imagination.  Here and now she faces me, but who is the mirror?

Tumeric stains on fingertips, reminders of the culinary fun.  A half empty glass of Bordeaux upon the monopoly board: oh yeah, another loss.

Ruby-red shoes seek a home. 
A silver spoon is bent in two.

Johnny Cash plays as the record spins.

Some you lose,
some you win!

The rain rattled
upon the rusted
wheelbarrow.

Her old skipping rope begins to spin.  Lyrics taste sweet, soaking up youth, dancing with imagination, agile once again, she is the grass that sways.

Like the roulette
wheel & ball,

tell me lies and
my tears fall.

Sidewinder Steve lowered his shoulder.  You're a lucky girl, we've scored a direct hit.  Hummingbird flew directly into view as he imagined her perfectly still.

The old winds resonate, clouds come and go, their nature thrives, their story survives.

The tobacco stained ground shimmers in the heat. Dusty boots stand alone, solitary monuments to past journeys.  His old rope lies untouched like a coiled snake... yet the memories remain.

Twisted reality, my art in 3D.  Scratched my words into the sidewalk, painted my soul on a wall.  Conversed with canvas, I'm laced to the high-top.

Sat and watched as the trees swayed,
listened to hear what the leaves say.

This moment takes me as I regress, seconds tick, slashing rain, eyes green.  Gone like all those yesterdays, physically altered, a puzzle rearranged.  

Alone in the swirl, seeking my center, over my shoulder the world spins on.  Tomorrow where the future lies, my hands washed of pain and regret, a place to seek and forget.  

Green eyes revise.  Another anachronistic statistic rising on a graph, computing the numbers, refusing to stumble, aiming to wander.

Tobacco-stained dreams remain. Tanned like leather, finger joints gnarled.  The sun glints through a crack in the door.  This is a sign of brighter times.  Turquoise blues holds the memory.  

Tainted by gunfire, the repetition of the rounds hitting the ground.  Tactile senses return, feeling the grip against the palm, fingers around the guard.  

Tension becomes the norm.  Tomorrow is hope, every evening brings the tears.  Trees sway as I walk, seeking serenity in the green leaves.

Silhouette, the night is yours.  Whiskers gauge the distance.  Leaves rustle in the breeze.  Sleek and slender you wait.  Stalking your prey.  Green eyes alert.  An emerald shine.  Fight or flight.  The heart beat slows.  A silhouette of the night.

June flowers again as a caterpillar crawls upon the cards of condolence.  This transformation is a kickflip hidden within a butterfly wing.

Earth is gathered and offered again.  Grandfathers' home the empty shell.  His clutter decluttered, her signature removed.  

The final supper, a cell phone speaks in secret codes, bourbons are broken in two, with the jigsaw complete their sky is blue.

Glasses full of laughter, we drink them all.  A thousand dollars will secure the deal.  A headstone holds their story.  Together they are reunited.

Torn in two, stripped to the bone, head's rewired, thoughts removed.

Your flex in a reflex, reactions to action, she preached in the precinct whilst craving creation.

A submariner survives in daytight compartments, his thoughts become deeper, she prays for his relief.

Hermetically altered the gold-dust is spinkled, as the fish keep on swimming blue in the reef.

Broken down, and beaten... this egg's cracked in two.  Reborn in an instant, cappuccino's still new.

Hitting the bag hard.  Contracting the muscles. Pushing the limits.  Everyday is a workday in the gym. Boxing is a tough sport and injuries do happen, but the main draw is the test, and the endorphin high.

Outside the ring, time is more fluid.  The clock continues to tick but, for most people, the seconds don't count.

A knockout can arrive in the blink of an eye.  You think you know the ropes, the footwork, the patterns, and then wham!

Like a car-wreck.  One minute you're buzzing down the freeway, listening to tunes on the radio, and kaboom, what the hell???

Instant change, up becomes down, and for some it's down and out!

Twelve rounds, the bell sounds, points are tallied, did you make the grade, did you put in your best?

It's everyday life played out as spectacle. Twelve rounds in the squared circle and then your time has passed.

Forgotten like a broken teacup,

London bridge on a windy day.

Heartfelt are the rains that fall.

White like a canvas, she conceales the image within.  Colors impregnate her thoughts, and a simple melody is her guide.

Soon the rusted leaves of autumn would be hers.  Soon she would remember the blueberries, and the hazelnut tree.

Golden seeds fell like raindrops
.  She smiled as the second hand ticked.

A die is thrown and
she wishes for a six.

A blue ball bounces into view.

She watches a young girl run, her rubber boots splash in iridescent puddles.

Reminders of adventures past.

Struck a match.  Watched it burn. The scratch of sulphur intrigued my ears.  The burst of flame dazzled my eyes.

Struck a match.  Once again I watched.  The perfect strike?

Exhausted all the flames.  Searched for more.  My young eyes inspired.

To the woods. A new matchbox.  Pyramids of sticks. Struck a match. Watched it burn.

Still inspired by the fire.

Gripped by the thoughts of a thousand years, swimming in the sea of a zillion dreams.

Twirls of seaweed, and glimmering shoals we pass.

Into the monument, a lost shipwreck; I anchor my life in her underwater scenes.

Bubbles rise, the world
awaits my voice.

Together we dive, hiding our secrets, afraid of the past.

Antique screens hold golden dreams.

The words lay down their lives, poetry is the temple.  

No faces required, no images desired...

From black and white the colors emerge.

Along the beach, the sands of time are clear.  Footprints leads me astray.  Driftwood captures my attention.  An emerald green bottle is taken by the ocean flow.  I stop and stare, enthralled.

Messages float upon the waves. Torn at the edges, those yellowed pages, contained within, drifting with secrets.

Teardrops spill their ink as my pen keeps the score.  Dropped into prayer, I'm calling for a lifeline.

In the blue
clouds drift,

Silver linings,
hidden inside.  

Together we dance,

A small frog leaps,
the lilly pad pops.

June becomes a shadow in time.

Still resting here as the blue jay flies.

Scaling a dizzy height I struggle to achieve, as the ladder wobbles my jegs become jelly.  Step by step I grasp each rung, dreaming of the peak.

A secretary returns my smile, her note is exchanged in the wink of an eye.  To race like formula-one and hit a perfect swing , the satelite spins as the thread is stripped.

She lived for golf and danced like James Brown whilst, I surfed the airwaves seeking a new sound.

Kaftan drifts as the dervish whirls.  Footsteps heavily influenced to a standstill.  Hands rubbed together, slowly sticking palm to palm.  To sleep is a prayer offered in hope.  The dream is blank state rarely achieved.  Eyes all drained of color, limbs so tired. The mind keeps on spinning, thought after thought racing for attention.  The clock strikes again.  One thirty am... once more sleep escapes.

The whiskey becomes your genii,
a spirit which guides the way.

Out of the daytime mind, moving
away from the mundane,

adventure whispers your name -

"Together we'll soar like an eagle"

Cultured, wandering, lost to finding, standing, waiting, hurting, hiding:

Forget the past
seek the dream.

A one-sided coin,

alone I spin.

Nineteen years of age... yes I remember.  

There was the heat of the jungle and the humidity, but the fear was stronger - each step took its toll.

Some days zipped past like bullets; others dragged like an injured buddy.

Twenty... I prayed to reach.

Scents, tastes, visions, sounds.

Surrounded by others; people,
pets, wildlife, flowers.

Trees bearing fruit, and bushes
with berries.

Aware to the abundance of life.

Youth slips into old age.

Golf swings in the ballroom.

Green is the growth,
majesty is movement.

Blind to the plastic:
old beauty fades

The seven of spades spins upon the table.  A whiskey glass awaits a drunken grip.  She fears the worst whilst he silently prays. Seven times the black and white dream had come.  The chair creaks as he shifts position.  

Magic coursed throughout his DNA; he believed with every ounce of his soul, but she was not so sure.

The seven of spades slowed its spin... his breath followed suit.

When the card stopped he felt the magic thrive. His prayer was a success and now they'd both survive.

When yellow marigolds
prosper.

A simple flower stands
alone.

It's hard to rest.  Rain is pouring.  No sunshine. Mind is swarming.  

We used to clasp hands.  Philosophical fingers. Long and lean. Exclamation marks. Bluest eyes you'd ever seen.

Today it rains. I watch it zip down the glass. Pouring drinks at a bar.  The neon sign becomes her gaze.  Lipstick smudges the rim.  Russian ***** encore.  Wild Horses couldn't drag me away.

Pebble skims
across a lake:
mine's a boat.

Shadows fall, the path winds on, each step I take with care.  There is a chill in the air, wind blowing autumn leaves, too dark to see, yet so clearly I hear.

(Footsteps)

My heart thumps,
adrenaline flows.

So many thoughts:

'Don't look, keep walking, why now, why me?'

Gaunt and slack, a reject for the trash.  His smile faked, his sad eyes weep.  Forty years of passion fading out.  No purpose in his life, hear his actions speak:

"I'm invisible and long forgotten, no use crying, my time has come"

Lovers entwined, like venomous snakes poised to strike.  

The fascination draws them in, the magnetism enthralls.  Her blue eyes, his laughter... together they are separate in their dreams of becoming one.

A lost gem he seeks,
she watches as the
flowers bloom.

The brown brogues shine once again, his suit expertly pressed, aftershave's applied... Steven is no longer just a Friday man; his time has arrived.

Old memories are tossed aside as the color of life reappears.

Passion strikes like Cupids arrow.... tomorrow is forgotten, yet their future is crystal clear.

Sometimes the world revolves like your favorite CD.  The sunshine beckons, great adventures await.  

Sometimes the world is slow, like a 45 on 33 - taking the long-play to the end of the day.

Sometimes you twist and shout.

Sometimes you hide and cry.

I am sometimes the rain which falls.  My middle name is silvertongue. I am the honeybee in dance. I dive like a kingfisher into the wild river.

Today I am the sun, warming the day.

Sometime I'll dance your way.

Slapped these words like paint on canvas.  Where syntax makes nonsense.  Grabbed in a rorschach hologram.

A whistle blows, time stops, doors slam, stories end.