If there was another way to say it;
An easy way for you to understand...
I would not be pouring out these words
In an attempt to paint a picture.
I wouldn't be desperate to bottle
My emotions and thoughts
Into these stained glass letters,
With the tin syntax lid.
Poking holes through the top
Of my head,
So you could see.
Firefly ideas.

I am a photographer of hearts and minds.
The blood red room holds
My negatives.
How can I make them easier for you to see?
The composition so sweet,
The lighting so contrasted with
The shadows hiding the everyday.

What I really want you to do is stop reading.
Go look into the eyes of a lover.
Go hold a child's hand while they sing.
Listen to the wind change.
Feel the pulse of a city.
Cry with old wrinkled skin
For youth and life, and hope.

That is what my poem means.
It is a pulsing picture
Held captive in rhetoric.

i'm your soul mate, you know it and remain in silence.
we’re making the same steps, in the same rhythm, you know
you and i, we had the same evolution,
we asked the same questions, we came to the same solution

if you are who you are, than I can make it, than i will be who i am,
currently i'm leaking, love seeking.
we know so much, without saying it,
you know what i mean, but you have to admit
that you don't trust this, that i can look behind your mask,
so i ask, is this too colorful in all this grey?

or maybe i'm two steps ahead
i will step them back, for you i'll take the loss

stupid, pathetic words, i hate them myself
i talk so much stuff, i'm like dust on a shelf
you are so much smarter than me anyway
now don't look away!

but i studied the science of love.

i dealt with it since thousands of years
i observed and i took down how i suffered in tears
now i know something and i see you don't have a clue
i can see my own kind, i see us all in blue

we walk like figures from picasso's most empathic time
we can fly and dream and we don't talk, we mime
we suffer like dogs, day by day, year by year
we cook our blood and swim in it, without any fear

but we cant manage to work as a community
because in all this chaos we are much rather free.
our wish of shared identity
is killed by the beauty we can't see

so much space and so much that we fill with pain
i know you and you know me, my love, i am
addicted too your touch, without any shame
i could yell it out loud, i wish you would do the same

than suddenly we wouldn't be, maybe like the blue
and i bet, they'd give us better names, like the new
don't you think, it would be easier to be free.
now we are the reds for everyone to see

there, where people kiss without thinking about tomorrow
and we only wave the blue on flags without feeling sorrow.

The whole foundation of the recognized word
Could be crumbling behind our eyes
And it would not matter

Great missiles of anger and hate may be aimed at us, fingers
Poised above powerful buttons
And it would not matter

Because right now
Here
You are with me
And I am with you

Apartment recommendations for a city I’ve never smelled
in my mailbox. Empty wine glasses and static electricity
the air, the dust, the heart, the tip, the flotilla----------------
mercy.
me.
mercenary. bible camp.
jacket, jacket, hobble; ****** keys.
You’re a smudge, you doornail, tack.
Tack-- tack, tack. Honey, a floating bungalow========)
Pull off the danger, rose, it’s a time for campaigning.
Awash in grassy knolls, you hidden scavenger.
Grassing, grassing with watering hide, you scrivener!

Winter sun shines wanly in the church ground
Long shadows grace the wooded park.
The newly cut lawns sparkle emerald green in the late morning light
And the steeple bell tolls, calling the faithful to worship on this Sunday in late May.

An old man sits on the bench nearby and quietly mutters to himself.
The church goers ignore him as they congregate together discussing the inanities that pass for conversation prior to worship, he is invisible to them as they companionably file through the portal of the church doors, exchanging pleasantries with the welcoming, smiling priest.

Oblivious, in his disheveled way, the old man quietly mutters  his words to himself. His wrinkled, white bearded face totally preoccupied with his thoughts about where his years have gone.

Just yesterday I ran that race
In bare feet for the mile,
My school mates cheered me on
And I recall I won in style.
And last week at the dole queue
When stale bread was handed out,
I swear I only took my share
Despite the Copper's shout!
The when I held my baby girl
In ****** swaddling clothes,
I saw exhaustion take my wife
Her face a pallid rose.
And in the pits the burning heat
The coal dust and the gas,
Filled the lungs of most of us
With a bitter, black morass.
Though Charlie Donoghue's cold ale
Was nectar to me then,
And a sharper axe was never swung
Or how, or why, or when.
I'm always short on Thursdays
It's a hungry time of week,
And the street kids pinch my park bench
So I've got no where to sleep.
Oh the beauty of that first kiss
With the lass across the road,
Versus brutal hiding's dished out
By that bully, ******* , toad.
Sunshine at riverbank
When there's nothing much to do
And the sparkles on the water
And the cold of morning dew.
Money in your pocket
The feeling's Oh so grand,
When you can shout your mate a beer or two
And he runs to shake your hand.
There's a dull ache in my hip now
And it never goes away,
And when asked to elaborate
The smart *** Doctor wouldn't say.
Best of all were the apricots
On Fergie's green old tree,
And we kids would run and pinch the fruit
And gorge it all for free.
Oh the joy on my darlings face
In that wedding on the hill,
When tomorrow promised everything
And the very world stood still.
And I recall the starlings wheeling
In a sky of brilliant blue
As they flocked in tune with Autumn,
When the leaves were red in hue.
But I can't remember details now
The days are getting dim,
So it's hardly worth the effort
To try and share this all with him........

Marshalg
On the bench in the wan winter sunshine.
29 may 2011

I just woke up from a dream
In which I was falling
Thinking of it now, I wish I had
Ended up in your hands after
Such a tiresome plummet
And what did you dream?
Hopefully rainbows, yes

Hopefully a full spectrum of
Colors swirling from a waterfall
Or a great gathering of all
Peoples to make peace and
Birth love beneath the shadows of their
Bombs

These are the dreams that should enlighten and
Inspire you to live fully and selflessly in the
Hopes of one day breaking the thin membrane
That stands between the wishing world
And ours

Pen to paper, pen to paper
Come on, flow. Work your magic.
Ah, there it is. A bit distant, but it's there.

I aspire to be something
Someone
Can't remember exactly what
Or who
But someone, I will be
Technicolor, bridges
Between
Always between the cities

Quite a pollution problem, they
Really should do something about
That.
Faded orange, red, gold sunset
Awaits me and whomever else
I happen to find near the edge

Falling slowly
Into a bench or a log or a
Cliff that grudgingly bears us for
A little while, then
Lets us go