you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.

maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.

but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!

the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!

As dawn unfolds today beyond my fractured windowpane,
a breeze beguiles the ashen drapes. Like snakes they slip aside,
revealing wanton worlds that race and run aground, insane,
immersed in scenes obscene that savants strive to mask and hide.

Outside, the twisted streets retreat. Last night they seemed so cruel.
While lamps illumed lithe demons dancing neath the gallows tree,
their lurking shadows shuddered as they breached the vestibule.
Within the gloom strange things abound, I sense and sometimes see.

Perdu in darkened doorways (those which soothe the ones who weep)
men hide their shame in crevices in search of cloaked relief.
The ladies of the evening leave, it’s soon their time to sleep!
The alleyways are silent now but taste of untold grief.

Distraught nomadic drifters (dregs who stray from street to street)
abandon bedtime benches, squat on curbs they call a home,
appeal to passing strangers for a coin or bite to eat.
Rebuffed, they gaze with icy eyes that chill the morning gloam.

Observe with me once more, beyond my fractured windowpane,
the broken boy with crooked smile, the one who's seen the beast.
With tears, he kneels and clasps the cross to exorcise the stain.
The abbey door along the lane enshrouds a pious priest.

At nearby mall, Mike needs a cig, and stealth'ly steals a pack.
The Man, observing, thinks ‘Hey Boy, this caper calls for blood’,
takes aim, then shoots the fated stripling six times in the back.
Come, mourn for Mike and brother Justice, facedown in the mud.

The shanty town has hunkered down engaged in mortal sports
while shattered bodies' broken bones at last repose supine,
and mama (now bereft of child) in anguished pain contorts,
her eyes drip drops of bitter wrath which wither on a vine.

Fatigued and bored, some kids harass the crowded alley now.
To pass the time, Joe smokes a joint and Lizzy snorts a line.
The NRA (which deals with doom) can sometimes help somehow,
though Eric died with Dylan in ‘The Curse of Columbine’.

Marauders scam the marketplace (with billions guaranteed)  
while babes with bloated bellies beg with barren sunken eyes,
and (cut to naught) the down-and-out (like trodden beet roots) bleed.
Life's carousel confronts us all, though few can ring the prize.

Yes, Mr Madoff, private bankster (cruising down the road,
with other Ponzi pushers, waving magic mushroom wands),
adores addiction to the bailout (coffers overflowed),
and jests with all the junkies, while they’re bilking us with bonds.

A timeworn washerwoman totters, stumbling from a tram -
she shuffles to her hovel on a dismal distant hill,
despondent, shuts the shutters, prays then downs her final dram -
a raven quickly picks at crumbs forsaken on her sill.

Jihadist and Crusader warders faithfully guard the gates,
behead impious infidels, else burn them at the stake
(yes, God adores the faithful side, the heathen sides He hates),
with saintly satisfaction reaped begetting pagan ache.

All day the watchers skulk around our fractured windowpanes
inspecting all our secret thoughts, our realms of privacy,
controlling every point of view opinion entertains,
forbidding thoughts one mustn't think, with which they don’t agree.

Our rulers (kings and other things) have often made demands
of populations breathing air on near or distant shores
and when they didn’t yield and kneel, we conquered all their lands
with sticks and stones, then bullets, bombs and battleships in wars.

Come, cast just once a furtive glance… there's something in the far…
from towns to dunes in deserts dry, the welkin belches death
by dint of soulless drones that stalk beneath a straying star
erasing life in random ways with freedom’s dying breath.

But closer lies an island, where the keepers grill their wards.
Impartial trials? A travesty, indeed quite Kafkaesque.
The guiltless gush confessions, born and bred on waterboards.
No sense, no charges nor defense. A verdict? Yes, grotesque!

Now dusk is drawing near outside my fractured windowpane
while mankind wanes like burnt-out suns in fading lurid light;
and scarlet clots of grim deceit and ebon beads of bane
flow, deified, within a corpse, the fruit of human blight.

Some nights
I wake up at 4 am,
with the taste of smoke at the back of my throat

I swear to God,
you're still burning somewhere inside me.

Walking through the town today
I thought I crossed you on the street
With your sand storm hair and empty eyes
And anxious vagabond feet.
Your pretty teeth were crooked
Like bricks forced under pressure
Your shoulders, they sagged tiredly
Your head hung with displeasure.
My heart leapt at the sight of you
And music filled my lungs
With a longing to sing with the loudest voice
All the songs 'til now left unsung.
But when your eyes met with mine,
You were just a man I did not know.
Just a man, like the man I once loved
One thousand cold Augusts ago.

Every mistake I ever made
Is like a knife in my heart
And if I'd count them
Hundreds would rip me apart

My room
is full of elephants.
Trumpeting prophets,
whose footprints have been lost
in the gusts of greens and groggy eyes.
Or thrusts of thought pumping jagged sighs through lips left ajar.

My face
is full of fleshy hands,
to hide in when the sand is dropping.
standing water lullabies, my mind’s collecting flies.
Pillow fists and sheets to choke, my skin’s already turning blue.
With wistful tunes from ceiling fans, I’d rather stay in bed alone.

My eyes
are ****** yet again.
With salt at least Its genuine.
But fruits fermented, grass ablaze at least I can escape.
Id love to hide, to run and run, I see myself hitting the ground.
To scrapes and scraps of memory from nerve endings gone limp.

This room
is full of elephants.
I try to cover ear canals.
This silence is uncomfortable and I look down the ledge.
I hate to be a ****** and I never mean to ruin nights,
but if I stand alone tonight,
I’m terrified of what I’ll do.

Trumpeting and trumpeting,
please dont leave me in this place.
Im clumsy and can’t trust my feet,
I’m aiming for the grass.
To hug me as I contemplate,
the dawn is a cacophony,
and Im just getting home again,
to feeling out of place.

He says, "I'm not asking for much"
She gives him butterflies with every touch
He notes her on the way her eyes glow
She says "There's things you don't know"
He doesn't force her to explain
She enjoys this through her pain

He tells his friends about this girl,
"She's the most beautiful in this world"
He ignores their laughs and remarks,
"At least I think with my heart"
His friends laugh again and say this,
"Yo man lemme know after you hit"

She cries at night because she truly cares
Her sister shows concern so she shares
"There's a guy and I'm actually interested"
(She's never had relationships with time invested)
Her sister hugs her and they both cry
She stays up all night as hours go by

He continues to pursue his infatuation
She accepts forcing a sad situation
He takes his time to spite his friends
She knew exactly when it would end
The night came when he used the word "love"
She prayed that night to the Lord above...

"Dear Father,
Why did I ever experience this pain
When I didn't even know his name
I still can remember my mouth taped
The night in the alley when I was *****
My faith and hope are only beginning to fade
He won't love me when he finds out I have AIDS"           

The next day he and she decide to meet
On a particular and familiar street
She tells him everything and he looks surprised
Smiling he says, "Remember, when I said I loved your eyes"
She cries because this wasn't what was planned
He gives her something little by holding her hand.