By Arcassin Burnham

When its necessary.
You take me out , you make me feel alive..

Looking up , you better find the Eden,
lies are told when you receive them,
life is short and they reduce it,
almost coming closer towards the end,
this the world we've been portrayed,
putting up walls like when the sun goes down
and when in doubt you feel you should've stayed,
but this is now,
and you must love,
and you must hate,
and you must gossip,
And ridicule the people that would die for you,
never snitch on you , they'll lie for you,
in a land without freedom,
In God we trust like the back of our hand,
the strong spoke for the soft spoken,
too scared to reach and just take a stand,
old familiar sting,
they forget your name.
letting heads ring,
they don't say a thing.

This tree
That tree

I don't know
Outside my window

Only you.

We chop and
Chain at you

Yet you grow
Each year

Bark,

Wrinkled as a
Brow

.
If you happen to find a poet
hiding shyly beneath a stone.
Gently put him in your pocket
and carry him safely home.

Show him love and kindness,
take time to get to know him.
And if you smile so sweetly
he will gladly pen you a poem.

For if you hold his real value,
and recognise his true worth.
He'll look deep into your soul,
to give you the sun, moon and earth.

© Pagan Paul (05/04/17)

the language of light fills the sky once more
comes down to share our table
- life pulsating from out the Earth
clear clean water.
We eat our bread and drink our wine
while the Sun shines on all we do.
the language of light throughout the Universe
- crackling stars
our hearts pulsars
love a river, an ocean wide
dive on in, in reckless abandon.

By Arcassin Burnham


Just strolling along , just standing in place , i would,
show you more than what really happens in this place if i could,

skies are getting dark and grey , as it persuades , message,
if anything nobody listens to me so i pillage,

i could still see the stars , like its apart of my life,
i wish to find a stunning gorgeous guardian of a wife,

long hair to the back , isn't that a fact , i could make,
everybody wish they had a soulmate on an interstate,

Pretending i have a good home to come to , while thinking,
it was all a hoax that i provoked , this ship is sinking,

having life situations bore me , so i did,
the most responsible thing in the world , the choice that i picked.


/

We leave,
without a goodbye or a sayonara..
The future,
and every promise that we made is gone in the wind,
Some Trust,
the spirits they crave but it never comes through,
The Last Bit,
Of people wondered  when their hearts will ever get saved,

and i'm one of them,
its way too early for the *******,
the sunlight shines in my eyes,
i swear on life i wanna just quit,
i stopped trading blows for this disguise,
And all my life I've tried to quit,
five other times I've tried to end it,
I know that i'm not good enough,
for the rapture all the way to the end of a brand new.

It is longer spring here
down at the bottom of the world
(if I were being truthful
at the very bottom of the world
spring is a mere matter of degrees)

Here in the land of Oz
we are in Autumn,
yet driving today,
the sunshining through
the last  of the clouds and
the waratahs red and vibrant
competing with the yellow
sunshine cascading drops
of the wattles , all outdone by
the bougainvilleas with their
bursts of deep, deep purple

the smell of lemon myrtle and eucalypt,
giving a zinging zest to the air
you could well believe that
nature did not get the memo...

it is true
that until
some one
has gone from you
you do not know how will
miss them...

i miss sitting quietly
with you after a day's work
tea cups in hand, savouring
the fragrance of smoky tea
and the silence that comes
from a deep sense of compainionship

I miss, coming upon you sitting on a bench
face turned toward the sun, hands spread wide
i  an act of joyful worship, a smile lighting up
your face,

I miss the itense look of concentration, as you
described a new thought or concept to others
and the loosed limbed wonder of you as you
came alive upon the stage....

the generosity of heart and spirit,
your allocentricity...

all these things i miss and more
and most days I find some new
thing that I miss...

but...
my missing you
is a living elegy

I miss most
the sound of your voice in my ear
...but I hear the echoes
that tell me....
you are stronger than this
....just breathe on through
and wait
for the sun to shine for it will, it will

when one
waddles
through
puddles
one often
gets wet
from
the feet up
then one may
get upset

yet if one
takes to water
like the duck
should not
the wet feet
from waddling
be akin to it's back
water free falling
and feet unstuck

if unducklike
you be
avoiding
the puddles
of life
may well
be the key
to a life
of dry feet
and a smiling
phsyche