To love is human,
To be loved is a human need,

But the same is true,
For being free.
I long to fly out of this cage,
But I will clip my wings each day.

Each feather falling,
Is one step closer to you,

Every feather drifting away,
Is a single piece of my heart.

I must fly free,
Amongst my avian creed.

Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.

There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.

Swans in love enchant
Upon the lake blue mist parts
Nature spirits wake

In shadows her world
In stillness she drifts , jaguar
Eyes piercing flame blue

the
smell
of the
barbecue grill
taunts
my hunger pains
I walk on by
uninvited
with no place
to
go.

walk the high wire without a net.

the poem is life all else is waiting.