I’ve got a list of things to do
Demanding my attention.
I’ll whittle it down to just a few,
But first I want to mention:
The way the light falls on the leaves,
The shapes of clouds in the sky,
The wind that rustles in the trees,
And the flight of birds going by.
I know I should be ticking off
The items on my list,
But I would rather take a walk,
Distractions I can’t resist.
It seems that all those silly tasks
Could wait for another day,
But this afternoon will never last,
So I’d better go out and play.

Have you ever held your hand still
Just above a river’s passing water
Liquid rushing by reaching for your skin
Jumping up; eager to commune with you
Beckoning you to dip a finger in

Death told her
           her life should end
and he was her friend

Calmly, she stole my gun
     she walked outside in the sun
pulled the trigger, set the mood
barrel to her head to conclude

I saw her head come undone
,,, Reached down, for my gun
Eyed the chunks in her hair
Now to my head |
                               |I draw a rose there.

Where a man goes
Often in repose,
Alone in candle light.-
Right. By his own designs...

He doesn't have to answer,
Can drop the role of dancer
And take just whatever.-
Endeavours he has on his mind

As fully as the coming breeze
Breathing in how it frees
His thoughts and ambitions.-
Intuitions resparked because of this...

Where a man goes
To lay down his axe, he knows.-
That in the moment when his body quiets.-
Riots cease and he can dream.|
That no one or thing,
Regardless of the news or excitement it would bring,
Cannot shake him, wake him or.-
Roar so loud as to be noticed.

This is where a man goes in fear.
Where when poverty and idle living, and beer.-
Cloud body and mind.-
Grind hope to crumbs.|
And stand on the perch of desperation,
Alone in fear and perspiration,
Dying for something to do,
Viewing savings turn to dried flies.

Returning always to where a man goes,
Delaying what he knows
To be all too true.
Do or die, or start anew.-