Too short flowers bloom
Too brief their scent fills the air
Too late we notice

What is this thing that comes to me
and tells me what to write
sometimes in the early morning
or in the middle of the night

It feeds me an idea
for an angle or a line
and then it flows right through me
as if its power were really mine

Sometimes it give's me noble thoughts
full of romance, love and trust.
Other times more physical
desire, *** and lust.

Yet again there are the angry ones
vile, bitterness and hatred.
Not always things I feel myself
so no hunger has been sated.

And other times its quiet
like the inspiration's left
and maybe for a day or two
of ideas I am bereft.

So what is this muse or genius
that creates and shapes these words you see
You would think that if it wrote this
it would at least tell me?

Why is it when I look for you
you're nowhere to be seen
I can't do this without you
do you know just what I mean?

And other times you're with me
even if I travel far
At home sat on the couch
or when I'm in my car

Where do you go when you're not here
Do you go and see another
Will I find out you have been with them
when they tell about their lover

When they share the secrets of their soul
in words only you would use.
Is that when I will find out
what happened to the muse.

We were not part of your war
but just trying to live our life
myself and my two sons
my daughter and my wife

But that didn't seem to matter
when the bombs and missiles fell
Men, women and children
friends and family blown to hell

At least I'm not haunted by the visions
of my daughter torn in two
or the sound of the explosions
that beat my sons both black and blue

And every night I don't close my eyes
and hear the sound of my wife's voice
as she calls to warn my daughter
and then cries out to my boys

For I too was buried in that shallow grave
No words were said, none made a fuss
but when the poppys fall in the Albert Hall
tell me who'll remember us?

Of all the things that I could write,
why poetry do you think?"

Is not the answer obvious?
It's cheaper than a shrink!

Will I ever be that someone
that keeps your sleepless soul awake
Will I ever be the longing
that leaves your heart sure it will break
Will I ever be the vision
seen when at night you close your eyes
Will I ever be the passion
unquenched betrayed in distant sighs
Will I ever be the one true love
that you regret casting aside
Will I ever know the truth
of every tear you ever cried
Will I ever be the one mistake
not repeated do you vow
Will I ever hear you tell me
how you feel about me right now

Forests on decline
Weeping willow sheds no tears
Only her leaves fall

As winter wraps our home once more,
and blankets it with snow.
I plead with you to stay a while,
do you really have to go.

I’m sure that we could work things out,
our problems can be solved.
It makes no sense for you to leave,
walk off into the cold .

But as you leave and don’t look back,
the tears fill my eyes.
And the icy cold of winter,
starts to come inside.

This house is no longer a home,
all life and warmth have gone.
And so I too decide to leave,
and start elsewhere alone.

Its snowing again,
but getting stuck here without you hardly seems fair.
A foot at least.
Like we always talked about, the wind howling down the chimney, snow drifting up against the door.
Pointless really.
Why have a good storm if you have no one to enjoy it with?
You should be here.
It should be all candles and brandy and a proper fire.
"Real flame effect" who are they trying to kid?
Not much use when the power goes.
What was I thinking?

The last leaves succumb.
Floating like feathers of gold.
Inevitable.

When I close my eyes to sleep at night,
I see you lying there,
alone in bed so far away,
it just doesn't seem quite fair.

If wishes worked like magic,
that's not what I would see.
For you would be much closer,
lying next to me.

Your head would be upon my chest,
your leg draped over mine.
Softly, you'd be sleeping,
and life would be just fine.

And as I drifted off to sleep,
your arms would hold me tight.
Together we would dream the truth,
of this and every night.

That this is how we're meant to be,
together, intertwined.
Just look at all the paths we took,
each other just to find.

Another day without you
means another day of waste
Another day to miss
the way your lips do taste

Another day without you
24 more hours gone
To wake up here without you
seems to make the day drag on

Another day without you
without hearing your voice
everything is background
undefinable white noise

Another day without you
meals eaten, nothing savoured
sitting alone at the table
facing food that has no flavour

Another night without you
a bed too big, the night too long
Another moment spent without you
can be nothing else, but wrong

To live with you and love with you
is what I dream about
To sleep with you and wake with you
and end this lonely drought

To walk with you and talk with you
everywhere I go
To laugh with you and cry with you
and let my feelings show

To share with you all that I have
no longer live in doubt
I dream of you til dreams come true
and no longer live without

Words are weapons of mass distraction
to take our eyes off the criminal action
of democracy ****** over for global destruction
as media serves to create obstruction
as votes get sold for campaign contributions
and we the people search for solutions
the rich get richer and the poor get *******
and the planet dies screaming in the interlude

You go to school and study hard for what?
For a job that saps what little life you've got?
You work all day you work all night
And yet you have not a single right
You go to school and study hard for what?

The first one in and the last to leave so what?
You think you're the best employee that they've got?
The more you give, the more they take
You work for free, the more they make
The first one in and the last to leave so what?

So you've been here now for 30 years, know what?
We can get two kids for half the price is what.
As employee you've been top notch
so we'd like to give you this shittly little watch
Are you glad now that you stayed in school, guess not.

Would you miss me
if I was no longer here
would you notice I was missing
would you even shed a tear

Would you think back
to all the things you never said
would you find time to write that letter
would you wish it had been read

Would you follow me
or try to find out where I'd gone
would you wish you'd made the effort
would you admit you got it wrong

Would you wish now
that you'd decided not to wait
Would you read this in the future
and curse you were too late?

I would share with you each flake that falls,
and every inch of snow.
I would share with you the scenery,
of everywhere I go.

I would share with you each raindrop,
that falls upon my head.
I would share with you the pillows,
that lay upon my bed.

I would share with you my every wish,
my dreams and every prayer.
I would share with you my here and now,
to be with you, right there.

I sit front of an empty page,
dripping quill held in my hand.
Waiting for inspiration,
to decide where the ink will land.

for every choice we make in life
there could be a different way
for every word we utter
there's twice as many we don't say

for every word that makes the page
theres plenty cast aside
and for every door we close
there's others left open wide

its an unbalanced equation
where x is joy and y is strife
its how you do the transposition
that sets your quality of life

Do you yearn for me
the way I yearn for you
do you wish perhaps for something
that both of us could do

Do wish that we could play with time
fast forward to the day
when we are here together
and all doubts were cast away

At least then we would yearn no more
for then we would both know
just what it is thats going one
so we could plan or let things go

In time with thought you'll make your choice
and put an end to how I ache
until then I'll fight this yearning
lest it be more than I can take

I think I should have
been born in the past
not just so my life
would have a new cast

Because often I feel
somewhat out of place
A reminder of earlier days
for this race

Days when our work
was all done at home
On horse or in buggies
is how we would roam

We'd grow our own food
raise our own stock
and keep time by the chime
of a grandfather clock

We'd sit on the porch
and we'd read or we'd write
and have deep conversations
on into the night

We'd fish in the pond
and swim in the creek
and shingle the roof
whenever it leaked

We'd not have no money
but be richer than most
And thank god for our fortune
with grace and a toast

We'd sit by the fire
in winter when cold
and live happy together
right 'til we got old

Then when the time came
for our maker to see
We'd get laid to rest
in the plot 'neath the tree

You remember the good old days
the days during the war
When there was still a thing called homelessness
and everyone seemed poor

You'd work all day and half the night
just so you'd get by
And then they'd send your job abroad
or give it to a cheaper guy

Your money would buy less and less
cos things cost more and more
And everyone felt scared
but why we were not sure

Economies went through the floor
the whole world was in debt
Even things like land and real estate
were no longer a safe bet

Oh how I miss those happy days
so much better then than now
Hang on a sec whats that up there
is it a flying pig or cow?

you are the one I truly miss
you are the one I long to kiss
you are the one forever young
you are the song I never sung
you are the ache within my soul
you are the loss that takes it toll
you are the one that went away
you are the dream of every day
you are my only true regret
you are the one I cant forget
you are a vision from my past
you were the love that couldn't last
you were the calm within my storm
you were the touch that kept me warm
you were serenity defined
you were the love that wasn't blind
you were my North, my guiding star
you were so near and yet so far
you were what life was all about
the one I cannot live without

Each day I rise when needed
and do the things that I must do
But the hours pass in dusky grey
until I hear from you

Your words create a sunrise
that I alone can see
and briefly I feel special
and that there is hope for me

So many times I taste the bitter pill
of disappointment and regret
Your kindness, love and friendship
reminds me life’s not over yet

And yet with all the words I have
I know not where to start
to show you just how deeply
you dwell within my heart

If we were to stand together
in my eyes you’d plainly see
all the things I cannot tell you
about just what you are to me

As even in the darkest night
starless, black as coal
thoughts of you are fireworks
casting rainbows on my soul

You'll never get rich as a poet,
its not that you're not any good,
but your words get given away to the poor,
like you're a lyrical Robin of Hood.

Your words will serve as a comfort,
to women and children and men,
but your time and emotions flow freely,
like the ink from your fountain pen.

But lets be honest about one thing,
we don't do what we do for the cash.
Words are like itches we can't quite scratch,
and our poems the resulting rash.

So you'll never get rich as a poet,
at least not in a monetary sense,
but you'll have lived your life in the trenches,
and not watched it pass by from the fence.

I bet when you were a little girl
you bullied the boys that you liked,
you teased em and chased em and pinched em,
and then went home on your bike.

And now thirty three years later,
you still use the same type of ploy,
to strike up a conversation,
to help you get close to the boy.

You flutter your eye lids to sucker him in,
then proceed to make fun and flirt,
the occasional pinch and occasional poke,
(but not so much that it hurts).

And I think I've worked out why you do this,
its part of a test you have planned,
to see if the boys really worth it,
to see if he will stick around.

So go right ahead and give it your best,
I'll take everything you have to give.
Cos lucky for you the boy you just pinched,
is the one that you're meant to be with.

Natures ebb and flow.
Mankinds arrogance destroys.
The balance is gone.