What does happen in the night?,
where restless youths beg for a fight,
where women with all dignity lost, will sell you their services at a cost,

where men will pay for their hunger to sate and tell their wives they're coming home late, where knowing wives are sat at home, waiting by the telephone, hoping he has done what's right, but that's not what happens in the night.

The children cower in their beds, the fear of the night sat in their heads, imagining monsters, causing fright, but that's not what happens in the night.

The children do not know, why mothers eyes are red, why father is not home, tucking them into bed, but father is still searching for that which will excite, for this is what happens, in the absence of light.

YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR OPTIONS OPEN AND I DON'T BLAME YOU
I WOULDN'T CHOOSE ME EITHER

When his intellect attracts you more than his physique
And that his knowledge nourishes your thirst to acquire them
When the search for some brain food goes beyond the physical and create mental and energetic understanding
Staring at me in the eyes that he thinks innocent that I'm
He repeats to me that he is too old as I shall say as the blind and novice he thought I was

your warm breath against
my skin
your fingers tracing my ******* roughly

one of your hands move
lower
intruding my space

this is not right
i do not want you here
i do not want you in my body

i say nothing
hoping you would read my mind
take a hint from my pleading eyes

my insides curl
as you take away my innocence

i am no longer myself
who i am...
is you

On new year eve when the sun on the west hung low
And the east wind on dead leaves blow
I paced to the yellow woods
And sat on my favourite wood
Where not long after I fell into a trance
Not of any divine trace
But a dream from my person
And I saw a vision backwards:
365 days ago, not long ago
I was on the same spot
For the familiar new year ritual
That of writing my aspirations
My fickle fingers wrote my dreams on the hard earth
On the passing sands of time
But no traces of them was left
Perchance carried by the furious wind
To the store house of wasted words
I continued in the vision backwards
When I heard a voice from me saying
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart "
I woke from my short trance
When the crimson moon was awake above
And the night owl hooting echoed through the woods
Left the woods without performing my ritual
Because i heard a vision backwards
" Don't write your dreams on sand
Write them on your heart."

He spent his lifetime chasing rainbows,
All the colors, bright and bold
But the years of stormy weather,
Left him lonely, gray, and old.
For the sun to make a rainbow,
There first must be some rain,
For the soul to be forgiven,
There first must be some pain.

Judge not the book you haven’t read.
Your conclusion may be wrong.
The bravest of the armies
May not be so very strong,
For when the battlefield is littered
With bloodied bodies of our youth,
There is still a final chapter,
And that chapter holds the truth.

The sun shines bright and warms us,
Then it hides behind dark clouds,
Skies overtly ominous
Suggesting funeral shrouds.
He sees the remnants of a rainbow,
Fleeting, fading fast,
Strains his aged eyes to see it,
And he prays his faith will last.
Phil Lindsey 2/11/17

so many tables  
stacked with catalogs
and coffee cups
our long discussions  
cluttered  with memories  
and
relatives
long renting spaces
underground
potential plans made
like  guest beds in our minds  
favorite tv shows
devouring  our  
afternoons and evenings
together  
dotted  with  
occasional power
struggles
minds at odds
a generational
dissonance
the  backdrop  
for  the need
to leave  the nest
again
freedom I sought
and liberty
was gained
now
flash forward
less than a decade
later
and you
are wrapped
  in a mere
flesh shell of existence
no longer engaged
in this world
with anything
but breath  
and  discomfort
thankful
for tender mercies
am I
  for you
still remember me
for
now

I ne'er half thought of you as best
Painted, frozen on canvas, still, set?
Static & unmoving...  but I do rest
In my bet you feign'd it. The man Thus, he is as a criminal! If hold he Must you as possession -Beauty's Pageant.
A sun proving to ne'er grow Stagnant.
Go'th then, swept in wind, smooth &
Seminole, with no frame to so seal In
YOUth within his lines -rather reel In
Lines of my rhymes to sustain YOU Ever
Both A's & Q's. No pause, Sure Forever.

Inks & links rather than oils soon Cracked &
Dried out, faded with careless Neglect
And old Time, proving Spell checked
Words, ripen'd on a vine, (freely repro-
Duced,) is better than stretchers 2 show
In one place, wired/hooked on a dim wall
Of your captor. His penchant 2 refuse call,
Or to face, why your smile wert so small.
Unbeknownst to the brushed up painter,
Who with gobbledygook stained your
Heart, but took you as his Sitter bitterly.
So if your Silence art your bitter Mystery,
Then book Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall
As my pen chants only 4u -a wonderwall.

Whenever I think about being loved,
I think about all those small moments.
You know, the small gestures people do.
The way they go out of their way to say, "I love you."
With their kind smiles,
and teasing pokes,
and questions about how're you're doing...
However, sometimes there's just not enough small moments in a day.
And maybe that's why there just isn't enough people feeling loved.

People are fascinated by extremely beautiful things
Like me, I love the sweetest of the Sparrows who sing
In dulcet tones round Earth she resonates and rings
My hearts bliss she effortlessly brings
The sweetest of Sparrows on truest route
Goes sweeping, soaring at one in the Noon
Borne aloft on warm, gentle zephyr
Her exquisite beating heart abloom
Imbued with deep and luscious ember
That burned until her life's December
Her cosmic joy her tune remembers
Warbled out in divine timbre
Sparrow, Sparrow in the air
Wings like arrows, feathers rare
Tuneful auras, shroud her song
A rhapsody, around, along
No gray reason restrains rhyme
As it spills throughout time
Sparrow, sparrow in the air
What wry spark is hiding there?