the soothing sensation
all feelings, erased
all the people in my thoughts
defaced and replaced
by an emptiness so bold
it's solid in shape
I am lost to its liquid embrace

it brings me to a quieter, simpler place

and I lust for its soul-numbing taste.

I have inhaled the air of countless cities
and left some of mine behind.

My distinct fingerprints are invisible
but they exist
in a place amidst many others
on tables and handles everywhere.

My voice had probably made someone turn
and wonder what type of a person I was.
Do I sound happy because I am
or is it a mere façade I have covered the truth with?
It will leave them pondering over the masks we wear.

Lipstick stains on coffee mugs
Kissing the worries goodbye
they flutter away into thin air
and become someone else's instead.

Eyes darting to the clouds above,
that water was once down here in the sea
but now it is above hovering over me.

Like snakes shed their skin,
and dead matter turns to trees
we leave a part of ourselves
on dusty shelves
for others to recover and use

the cycle goes on.

She worked in the market
She sold flowers and jewellery
but, nobody there knew her name

With fifty young vendors
Of flowers and jewellery
Each teenaged young girl looked the same

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name

She was hitch hiking home
From the market one night
A car pulled on up for a ride

He told her he'd take her
If she needed a lift
It was cold,  so the girl  got inside

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


No one has seen her
She's been gone for three days
She never arrived at her home

Nobody saw him
All cars look the same
And besides he was travelling alone

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


The market still bustles
With sellers of flowers
Where everyone looks, shops or buys

But, something is missing
A young girl is gone
The girl with the smiling blue eyes

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name

A flash of gold
blisters my skin,
causing me to retreat
to the shade of the weeping willow.

Bead after bead of salt
forms a darkened necklace
on my grey collar,
my noose of summer.

The once green, now yellow,
slowly dying scenery
reinforces my instinct
to flee inside these wooden boxes.

My shoulders are kissed
with buckets of rays—
they pour down from above
the heads of the trees.

I submerge my wings
up to the first hinge,
the chill of the pond
barely softens the burn.

I grimace as the light reflects,
obscuring my vision.
There’s someone out there
who knows how to change things.

As I shake my feathers dry
and prepare to flee back home,
I glance to the side,
seeing my distorted reflection in the ripples.

Mother Nature is finally happy
with the way we are reacting.

I am in love with one woman.
She was the most stunning system
Of meat, bone and spirit
I had ever witnessed
In my life.

Seeing Munch's Scream
For the first time was dull in
Comparison.
Collosseum was a pile of rocks,
Las Vegas an epileptic's nightmare.
All the places I have been and seen
Are no longer memories,
But places I have no peace with
Until I bring her there
To share

Them with her, and visa versa.
Look what the Romans built
Before Vikings roamed.
Romans, behold this beauty,
This blink of time, this mild drop of
Breath into oceans of atmosphere,
The art of arts in my humble
Gallery of Man.
This love that I love with the full
Weight of my person and will,
That loves to make me laugh,
Call me old; even dinosaur,
To make me angry, then mellow.

That plays me like a child plays
A whittled flute
With no single thought
Of Mozart or
Grieg.

I am in love with
One
Woman.
The Just in
*Just One.