I wish I could see the beauty in the world
one, that is clearly dreary, cynical and cold.
This old planet, home to millions of species
and billions of humans, hanging in orbit,
turning, turning, forever turning.
I want to see the romance of the stars,
without knowing they're dead cold and lifeless.
I want to hear music in the crashing waves,
without knowing the seas are rising, and species are dying.
I want to touch the earth and feel its life beating in sync with mine.
I want everyone to taste clean water, hot food and freedom.
But, I know that this show called life is full of spite,
there's no *** of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Just a huge arch of colours in the sky caused by water droplets.
There's no lollipop or band aid big enough for this broken earth's pain.
Lollipops and rainbows only equal tornadoes, and rain.

When I became yours and you became mine,
did we think we'd stand the test of time?
Did you think we'd last forever?
That we'd weather all storms together?
When we stood reciting our vows,
did you envisage us in our shrouds?

In front of all we took our turn,
repeating words like herds before.
Now, after ten years wed and fifteen together,
have we melded into each other's oppressor?
We love each other, that is true,
but don't you yearn for when we were unconcerned?

The brutal indifference of living is life.
The brutal truth is I will always be your wife.
We were made to stand the test of time.
What's mine is yours, what's yours is mine.
The brutality of this truth is that it extends
to the afterlife.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." - John Keating, Dead Poets Society (1989)

*As a child I loved you Mork, as an adult you taught me the fine line between laughter and despair.

I become more erudite at night.
I feel a sprite within me ignite words,
by candlelight I feel the old masters lift their quills,
place nib in ink and nib to paper.
I invite their words and imagery to suffuse me,
use me in this modern world.
Make new what once was old.

Where nib would glide I touch my screen,
watch avidly as sentences appear,
magic symbols transformed to meaning,
like runic stones of old, or bones thrown for reading.
My words by candlelight enfold and embrace me,
in the knowing language of the poets, bards and storytellers.
Tonight, I delight at my copywrite scribed by candlelight.

Death
is
the
home
of
maggots.
I
am
its
carrion.

In my life I've dealt with grief.
Deaths of family, friendships and innocence.
Still I'd hoped that life and time would make up,
become friends and chime a tolling bell of peace.
Thought ruins dreams.
There is inside us a black so dark we become a void.
Why try searching for the light?
The light has gone aground.
Mankind has ***** this fruitful earth,
despoiled its beauty and its worth.
Money means more than humanity.
Desecration of this fair planet and its inhabitants
justified by the men in suits.
News is just a propaganda tool,
it makes a mockery and a fool of us.
We line up for bargains, forgetting the unfed
We lie to ourselves that good still exists.
Where? When even religion becomes contentious.
Guns, bombs, hate, greed, ****** of the innocents,
who among us opened the seventh seal?
The Seventh Seal was it opened by blood mixed with oil on the altar of greed?
If so, it wasn't done in my name.

Little girl born with auburn curls
Little girl born with freckles and blue eyes
Little girl born with a smile so inviting
Little girl born to be bundled in pink.

Little girl got older
Little girl got bolder
Little girl got colder
Little girl realised she hated pink.

Little girl became a teen
Little girl became a terror
Little girl drove her mama to drink
Little girl drove her daddy to leave.

Little girl was known in town as a bad seed
Little girl decided that suited her fine, carried on drinking her wine
Little girl grew up, now a little woman
Little woman made mistakes, she never baked a cake!

Little woman with the auburn curls and inviting smile
came home early one day, saw you holding her so tight
that she knew what she had to do.
When it was done she spun with glee, caught sight of herself in red.
Smiled, at herself and thought: "if only you hadn't bundled me in pink".