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Mar 2018 · 469
Belong
I belong to those who'd be longing
to belong to someone,
but not if belonging
means I must change to belong;
and it'd be a long time before
I could ever belong to that.
How do we as one vehicle
get to something we all want?
We carpool our specialisms
to drive ourselves forward.
Collaboration, Vehicle, Want, Desire, Life, Individual, Together, All, Self, Specialism
Mar 2018 · 522
Mounties
It wouldn’t matter
should you not have any,
for the Canadian police force
has four legs too many.
Galloping in fields,
but in alleyways long,
the arm of the law
Has no legs to stand on.
Dec 2017 · 650
Love dressed up as love
Love dressed up as love
hits you like a train,
but you'll relish such collision
over anything less,
dressed up as the same.
Nov 2017 · 708
Hypergamagpie
Though magpies they are,
love birds they be.
And oh so, drawn to shiny trinkets.
Content was he,
yet his offerings of humble stolen objects,
that could stop her gawking could not
stop her gawping,
for ill affordable gold.

Though magpies they are,
love birds not quite.
happiness was of material dependance
in particular her new flame;
an open window and a pendant.
She fled for warm jewels
but found only cold steel.
A pursuit for prettier rings
befalls a neck that is wrung,
by bigger predators
with human hands,
and by greedy choices
that shun the real gold in others.
Nov 2017 · 410
Cages
freedom doesn't lie
in the collectives cages,
but stands with the choices
individuals make,
to avoid being caught in them.
Nov 2017 · 449
As salt on the senses
As salt on the senses
as water the heart,
bad hand of cards delta you,
watching mer-sea depart.
Nov 2017 · 431
For yourCellf to fear
Fear of boundless freedoms
paints invisible cages for us
to stand in our own way.
Fear of unknown peoples
paints invisible cages for us
to protect our loved ones.
Nov 2017 · 454
VulnerAble
Vulnerability is true strength
that makes honest connections
an ability.
Nov 2017 · 403
Muddying the waters
If you can convince people to want dirt,
you can muddy the waters
between right and wrong.
The caged bird
you won't let sing,
croons the loudest
when it forgets how to.

A song that should've been haunting and beautiful
becomes only haunting.
Nov 2017 · 384
The plight
What is the plight of art and poetry;
if not the human endeavour for grace,
to meet the sense of an ending?
Nov 2017 · 440
Encompassion
If you pass on compassion,
compassion won't encompass you
but pass you by.
Oct 2017 · 815
When door is closed
To propose
a repose,
with the one I am close;
nose tipped
on nose,
and not a trace
of our clothes.
Oct 2017 · 452
Good luck noble voyager
On seas better left to curl like mountains,
maintains that only hell hails here;
hearing a call however, the ***** your ship steers by,
binds that you must flow where your heart knows
no guarantee of binding affection is assured;
shorelines from where home once felt like it sat on the map.

Good luck noble voyager.
God speed.
Oct 2017 · 353
Dine at the table
If you would
sit down at my table,
to be savouring
the feast of our little fable,
sharing the dishes
of dreams and of thoughts
seasoned with promises,
of both mine and of yours.
Oct 2017 · 375
Long Gone
And, when you wake up
you shall only see
an imprint in the pillow and covers.
long gone i will be,
from this mess, and the loose
webs that reveal your other lovers.
Oct 2017 · 474
Your catharsis
Mourning and its endless blue,
ends in a journey that
makes us value and love again;
mornings in endless blue.
Oct 2017 · 681
Beware the Anna Conda
Beware the Anna Conda
of Boa Vista;
So easy to coil up
in those snakes for arms,
so deadly to be bitten
by those snakes for charms.
Oct 2017 · 445
Autumnal carpets
All the leaves are leaving,
they fall when in fall,
seasoning our season
before the winter's call.

Grounds littered with orange,
ready for the red
mellowed with yellow,
before a white winter is fed.
Oct 2017 · 612
Beyond the fog
You and your engine
deep in your chest, walk strange paths
and hope for the best.
Sep 2017 · 1.1k
Italian Friend
She prides herself an hourglass
yet never long enough, this body of time.
sharing conversations,
you'd otherwise be sharing with the wine.
It made the day's last leg's cross over
in my mind.

Be more than only snapshot dearest friend.
You are a focus in the lens, who lends
her smile.
And though, a distance shears
word salads by the mile,
just know the love you bring
stays with me all the while.
Sep 2017 · 580
Play Dead
Sometimes I'm awake,
thinking about all the thinking
that holds me from sleep,
and I lie there and ponder
why i'm lying there asunder
just a little too tired to weep.

Sunlight probes my eyes
come the morning,
a Monday calls my limbs to move
but i'm dead weight not shifting
though the sand of time is sifting
but i'm playing dead, lying aloof.
Sep 2017 · 581
DevOceans Apart
To her who knows who she is.

I realize If you Donetsk in this world you don’t get,
so I thought about it Turin those nights away.
My mind would Rome.
As in to walk Cologne down Rhodes
my feet haven't wandered Faro while.

It seems you have the Kiev my heart,
Zagreb a Piza it in the Palma your hand,
Nevada let go but to keep for all time.

I’d been longing for York kiss,
Hungary to have you Lyon next to me;
thinking how Nice it would be
for you to Guinea your arms,
And wrap them around my Jersey.

Reno that in the Split of distance,
we are hanging on to;
‘We Chelsea how it goes.’
I Bern a little Kos knowing
Havana wait for those crucial words means
I don’t get to Hanover a love
you’d never get Bordeaux having.  

When Ireland and you Symi
you’ll see that I don’t Minsk my words.
You’ll sea I was never in the-Nile,
so Danube worry about that.
I want to Brighton your days
and Tokyo somewhere we could be
kings and Queens.

I hopes that where this Texas;
we’d be eventually
Edinburgh place to call home.

Gdansk and Lodz of love….


You know who
Sep 2017 · 430
The fifth natural element
Fire moves your feet
water soothes your face,
the Earth rocks your body
and the wind gives you chase.

Our words weighing heavy
their sentiments resting soft,
they can pummle your little heart
or brush against it, like cloth.
Aug 2017 · 600
Being different
I see a lot of things people miss,
and am a lot of things;
those people don't see.

...even though sometimes
I want them to.
Aug 2017 · 477
A life that is giving
A life that is giving, is giving...
all the right people and their advise,
if you should heed it.

A life that is giving, is giving...
time enough for the restart button,
when you need it.

A life that is giving, is giving...
the chance to love after the loss,
so you can seek it.

A life that is giving, is giving...
opportunity to find the one;
so when you find the love you're looking for,
you can keep it...

Life long.
Jul 2017 · 452
Not fun and games anymore
In a field
School kids
go to war,
In the field
Soldiers
go to work.
She paints the sky with arrows
that lurch into my skin,
such departure from the heavens
blown as kisses in the wind.
Jun 2017 · 712
The sweetest honey
Bear with it
never Panda,
in the end
that gathers you
the sweetest honey.
May 2017 · 479
Mountain and Moon
The mountain of rock
it sat in the lake,
asking the waters
around it to make
no movements too vast
nor tremble or quake.
The stillness is all we'd need.

The mountain of rock
it sat by the grass,
asking the pastures
around it to clasp
falling souvenirs
that Autumn lets pass.
The moment is all we'll have.

The mountain of rock
leaned tall in the clouds,
asking the heavens
if it could allow
an audience with
the moonlight that prowls.
Your presence is all I want.

The Luna white disc
patrolling the sky,
gazed down at the rock face
catching it's eye,
waxing a beam
and waning goodbye.
Your great but it's not meant to be.

Your nice but it's not meant to be.
May 2017 · 758
Childhood
The times we were small
we'd Flock to the swings,
when boxes weren't boxes
but other world things.

one day you'd be pilot
flying west of the star,
until you grew up
and settled for law.

cartoons and a bike seat,
jarred candy and trees;
the times we were small is
time we can't freeze.
Exhausted.
His head slunk into the headrest
in the window seat. A stark contrast
to the eager little engine he could see
clinging to the plane wing; rumbling
with childish excitement.

The trolley rolled back and forth through the isle
a few times. He could wait no longer.
In his backpack a letter sat, with words
from the one he loved.
Hunching back down in his seat he slowly
and nervously unfolded it.
His inhales heavy at his gut,
where after scanning a few lines with his tired eyes,
his heart rocked against his rib cage.
He hadn't finished. He couldn't.
Folding it back up he hunched further forwards
with his head in his hands.

All the burdens of Atlas paled to the strain he felt,
everything dark and everything  a lead weight right now,
he wanted to read the letter to it's end.
Was he strong enough to keep it together?
He wasn't sure.

...He had too!

Opening the letter he continued.
Those last lines.
Tears ran to the exit, the **** walls had fallen.
Like a toddler with a stubbed toe he succumbed to a
hopeless chorus of wailing and sobs.

He was a King in his new life, a ruler of all he surveyed,
something he could never be at home.
Why did things have to fall apart?
How!?

Those last words ringing like a bell
as he lay there like a defeated adversary.
"I love you forever and always"
May 2017 · 1.3k
Last chance to see
Falling out of distracting thoughts
he reacquainted with his glare in the mirror;
he'd been somewhere else, undoubtedly lost
in a moment of her.
She too was standing in front of a mirror,
putting her face on, yet the occasion was stained
with an uncharacteristic frown, as if sadness
had found her somehow.

After many anxious intakes of breath,
he reached for the door-keys lain by the trinket box
next to their photograph. He cradled
the apartment keys in his palms for a brief moment,
then went on his way.
She stared at their joyful pictures on her wall,
a shrine with each an expression of love.
She clutched his name on the key fob and left also.

That evening in the restaurant,
her eyes glued to his as intensely as her hands
pursing through the gaps in his fingers;
two sizes too big.
He reciprocated warm heartfelt smiles,
trying to keep it together for both of them.
Circling his thumb gently on pressed fingers.
Her accented cadence a perfume for the ears
and her broken English endearing;
this would all haunt him,
these details tearing at the pit of his stomach
as he languished in the reality
that he has no choice. He must return home.

Over the balcony
wrapped in her anaconda-like arms,
he witnessed her cheeks
tear-staining in the moonlight,
her whimpers battling the lulling tides and cricket chorus.
She crumpled as a strewn napkin against his frame,
before exchanging a kiss;
soft and lovingly endured. The very kiss that wishes
not to end but to stay this way forever.

How melancholy it was in the sea breeze,
to walk among their favourite spot on the beach;
where many an anecdote was told,
many a sweet little nothing shared
and many a glance embraced.
Right now with the hush of salt water
lapping the shore;
their 'Last chance to see' had been studied.
In that instant, both knew
that it couldn't be possible to have
one another again.

They stood for a long while by the waters edge.
Both just as broken,
before becoming ghosts of the scene
and ghosts to each other.
Apr 2017 · 733
Calloused hands
Kind hands learn to be calloused hands
under the thumb of others,
and around the fingers
of heathens mistaken for lovers.
Apr 2017 · 478
Sewn together
You being mine, and I
yours; is being sewn to each
in only three words.
Mar 2017 · 753
Biography
life before the pages being written
is potential

Life in mid-sentence
is a form book

Life after publishing
is homage
Mar 2017 · 1.4k
Pi
Mar 2017 · 573
Bull by the horns
This is what I know of strength;
Its running headlong into detractors,
standing in the ring while the smoke clears,
then embracing the epiphany
when you can admit to yourself;

'I didn't know I had that in me.'
Mar 2017 · 699
Little Weissel
Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.

Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.

King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.

For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.

Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.
Feb 2017 · 468
Go bellow
For all your frustration,
go bellow into the ear of the wind.

For all your unrest,
go whisper into the crush of the sea.

For all your aches,
Go sigh into the sheets of your slumber.

For all thoughts shouting in the night,
Go Find an ear
that gives you the time of day.
Feb 2017 · 866
Captain
Walk with me if you dare,
keep up with me if you can.
Feb 2017 · 1.2k
Pamplona/Iruna
No rush of the bulls
filled these narrow cobbled streets
where tradition and
songs sounded over pinxos,
and stories of San-Fermin.
Feb 2017 · 2.4k
Deer loved one
Deer loved one

Please bear with me,
owl bee with ewe as soon as possum bull.
Rhino that things have been on paws lately
bat remember I toad you;
Toucan always find me some plaice warm in your heart
if I'm not lion there beside you.
Giraffe nothing to fear, no one can break the lynx we've made.
Mine is a love that'll never panda, narwhal it
hound any other sole but jaws and yours alone.

You're the porpoise I wake up every morning.
Wren all otter things are bleak, you're my ray of sunshine.
You let minnow weevil always have each other.
With you, newt time passes but stops still.

Love you with vole of my heart
ant i'll never desert you.
Until hen Gobi good

Yours truly
...
Jan 2017 · 614
Your own portrait
Dear kid you are the picture
of heart on well worn sleeve.
You oiled every wave of
raw emotion
and etched it on your own face.

Each time you draw a tear
the cascades fill your sorry eyes.
Far cry from masterpiece,
or symphony
but your truest portrait caught in time.
Jan 2017 · 1.3k
The Runaway Moustache
Ol' Mr Rilash
the authority on panache
and once chef of Ben-Ash,
had neglected to trim his tash.
It itched and made him scratch;
Unhappy on upper lip.
A plan, a plan it hatched.

...then one time in the kitchen
on a snoozing Mr Rilash.
His tash did something brazen,
or silly or quite brash.
It pulled away and dashed
crawling through plates of mash
and hopping over paprikash
it made it to the window ledge
via the crockery left stashed.

Was it brave or was it rash,
the escaping captive tash.
Leaping and waiting for the splash,
It saw it's trajectory down below;
and landed squarely in the trash.
Jan 2017 · 673
Standards
Jan 2017 · 366
The last new leaves
Where did the last leaves go?
when the winter crept;
weren't they blanketed by the snow
or were they feasted upon by frost?
Either way I've lost track of them.

If I turn over a new leaf,
am I neglecting the ground work
i laid the past ones out on?
Would I be dishonouring those
that have fallen?
will everything up to this point
now lose its relevance, because
time permits its time to drop old
blueprints for fresh leaves?

What if i'm not ready?
What if I still value the progression
of the elder ones?
What if despite seeing those
old designs bleed amber and red
I can still see green?

Times, seasons and things may change
but even from the beginning
of a calendar year;
What is old can be new again,
Those old leaves becoming new ones,
every time I remember to grow
my ambitions with the ideas
ingrained and well rooted within
old desires.
Those are I hope; the last new leaves
I'll ever have to turn.
Stepping with strides that will soon
fade like passing tumbleweeds and
trains long passed,
is the person unknown who travels
yonder their familiar blanket of sky.
Searching for what you'd assume
are answers to unresolved
questions, they find confidence
in treading uncertain new grounds;
gaining reasons to love and love stronger.
Ever the rolling stone shuffling to
avoid a life that goes south, so that
an end is met with fulfilment when
body and soul head upwards and north,
long after the telling of the last
adventure.

I, the person you have yet to meet.
Who roams for to settle one day in
richer surroundings;
knows such innate yearnings of the
heart and mind that others have
not the ties to satisfy.
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