stepping onto the doormat
knuckles rapping on wood
heart pounding mind racing

perhaps its like those
after school tv reruns
or those movie remakes

imagine live streaming
and podcasting in
very slow motion

loosing you and having
to remember back then
are unreachable ghosts*




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severed horizon,
when will we see you again
there's much in the way*




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°

here in this venue, we bury each day,
a time capsule of words and thought
hoping to one day arrive at a Eureka
of sorts; there tying-up neatly, each
unfinished business that tomorrow
bought from yesterday's backroom*




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a few loose jingling coins
a mind that is confused
a wind contrarily blowing

a set of clothes for spoiling
a clock that's fast or slow
a friend that comes and goes

a lover that's hot and cold
a pace slowed right down 
a transposition to minor chord

a gear shift up an incline
a better or a worse scenario, but
change stubbornly won't change*



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just because you're a pro and
cope and turn it all around
doesn't make it less difficult, 
definitely not any less lonely

when the sun plays hide and seek
solar panels are less appealing
when this moonlit night's cloudy
night time jaunts seem less romantic

could they have been sarcastic
when they said all's fair in love
and winning war is fantastic
while keeping peace makes us starve

one day silent pens get justice; though
the voice that's heard is loudest
but each strain of a balladeer's refrain
are the words that make us honest*




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°

even after season upon season
of changing jobs and habitations
in different states and even nations

we can look at objects that trigger
a sense of connective familiarity;
but on any other given day they're

just stuff, things that fill our lives;
for instance that bottle of clairol
or bar of dove, that tube of colgate

exact same products at granny's house;
shapes, smells, and sounds surround us,
a nest, perfectly built: dry, warm & sturdy*




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•

thou hast waxed sarcastic
to mock and disrespect the
misfortunes of another's need
whether male or female
of varied colour and creed

why dost thou behave unseemly
become as a clanging cymbal
blustering as sounding brass?
kindle again, first love's flame
before it's too late, unsweet charity

it's hard to hear yourself thinking
when hate on hate is all around
there's a cry for freedom ringing
its price: to keep another bound

our goals require such liberties
which defy our mental capacities
we hope it's worth all the drama;
our vengeful acts stripped of karma*


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°

What you might not see
your heart will know
it was never wasted --

your investment in
time or affection,
tears and concern

meals you've cooked
candles you've burned
advices, however stern

we have come this far
'coz when we needed it--
always, you were there;

for your love and constant prayers
and that strong will: "never say never"--
we are ever thankful, forever and ever*


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