They appear,
They seem,
They presuppose
With their ink to emphasize
My dreams
With the task of following lines,
Connecting routes,
Filling in blanks.
I add sighs to words,
Words to screams
That come from someplace deep and quiet.
They seem,
They appear to assume
You will understand me.

We tagged him Candle Sticks,
Called him that
When he was six.
Snot oozed down
Around his lips.
It was one of those taunts
That seamlessly sticks.

When he ran in the race,
He finished dead last;
His pants fell down,
Exposing the ***,
Of a hometown clown.

Many times I'd see him
Standing in the movie line,
Taking his aisle seat.
Or stocking butter and cheese
In the dairy case at Foodland;
Or under the bridges,
On a bench, watching the freighters
Power on to foreign cities;
Smiling at the fishermen casting their lines.

I think I saw him cry,
In the library, reading the local paper
In a secluded carrel.

I heard he walked to the Bridge,
And jumped.
Candle Sticks.
It stuck.

I gaze upon my comrades, at the places where they lay
A young man lies beside me with blood upon his face
“I can’t see you friend” he says “because my wound has left me blind
But I beg you to write the words I say and send them to my wife”

“My darling I have left you but I leave you with these words
I love you now and for ever, hold our children close for me
It should never have ended in this way
In a fight for liberty

I am not alone as I depart this life
Many friends lie with me, here on every side
I know not what we fought for or why we had to die
I hope we did not die in vain but I know not the reason why

A young man writes these words for me but I cannot see his face
He will tell you darling in my death there was no disgrace
With my comrades I fought bravely but we never had a chance
We stood and faced the enemy without a backward glance

I can hardly speak the words, blood has filled my mouth
My new friend here will bury me facing to the south
I am scared my darling I did not want to go
I must leave you soon for a place I do not know”

I wrote the words for that young man with the his blood upon my hands
For I’m the one who killed him as he made his last stand
Did I hate him? No for he was my countryman
We fought because a civil war had split our once united land

Yes I killed him dearest sister in the cruel and ****** fight
I would rather it had been me because you are his wife
Brother fighting brother, father fighting son
Has our god deserted us, has the evil won

This fight between the north and south, between the blue and grey
Will god ever forgive me for what I did this day
I will bury him facing south as he asked for it to be
I hope that when it is my time they’ll do the same for me.

One last snowflake
And the roof collapsed.

One last raindrop
And the levee cracked.

One last grain
Before life is breathless.

One last kiss
To seal my blessings.

Luck is the fruit of your hard work; sow the seeds to taste it...........

The story of Kindness you write yourself is a story that changes the relations in society

Be the forward player in tough times to score a fine joy, and for sure it will be enough for the team......

Having been in dilemma isn't a curse or illness, it's a test of your capability of how you choose the best thing in your favour...

Poor wee me
When I was wee,
I used to sit on my mother's knee;
Her apron tore,
I fell to the floor,
Poor wee me when I was wee.

Poor young me when I was young,
The song's of youth are those I'd sung;
Songs of love that since have gone,
Poor young me when I was young.

Poor middle me back some years,
I worked and worried, drank whiskey and beer;
Paid my way and prospered here,
Poor middle me back some years.

Poor me today, poor me will stay,
For many poor years to come;
For I've things to do, places to go,
With granddaughters and grandsons.

There's a Revolution coming,
The boots are on the streets;
It's calling from the graves,
We're stirring from our sleep.
There's a hunger in the eyes;
The troops are on their feet.
The revolutions's coming
And the enemy's in retreat.

The mob appeal
Is running lights,
Towered minions
Join the fight
To rein in one percent
From their ***** heights.
Desks in towers,
Facades of power,
Will tumble to defeat.
The gravity of greed
Will drag them through the streets.

The bell at four
Will sound no more;
The chorus chants
For a holy war,
For salvation,
Then, for some more.

There's a revolution
On the way,
We'll re-write the laws,
We'll line up the Romanovs,
And shake down all the Shahs.
There's a revolution coming
And it's coming
With just cause.

Some nights I spiral up
to my wormhole dreams
and stay
till morning light
people that have left
are there
some still here there too
travelling at the speed of time
that holds you present
to surprise me
with a childish kiss
but the lack of light
the room inhabited
I was distracted
being close to you
in the stillness of your sight

I heard a voice
call out:

Are you home?

(perhaps it came
from within)

A stranger's voice
that's called
before.

I am
insular.

I am Home!

Inside

This temple of dissipation.