sirens shatter my glass house,
a warning signal of eager pain.
rivers flow, bringing new life,
death washed away by the rain.

76

Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea,
Past the houses—past the headlands—
Into deep Eternity—

Bred as we, among the mountains,
Can the sailor understand
The divine intoxication
Of the first league out from land?

Idly stationed in the bucolic hills,
sits a stone well; unknown when abandoned.
Though her people foregone, water yet fills
as much as you can want for. In tandem,
are high trees less old than she; occluding
the view from pathless and naive strangers.
As their wish in well is to keep obtuse,
those that siren would otherwise capture.
Her drink, one thinks they'll constantly receive.
In reality, they'll only be taken.
Youth will fade as the heart minutely bleeds.
Their hollow, dried corpse will be forsaken.
And though her hole but a tall dark crevice,
I see my reflection on the surface.

Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter;
They still find me in my dreams on lonesome nights.
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Once, a daft heart soared to discover someone dafter;
Oddballs together, we tasted the world’s wacky delights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.

Jokes so silly, never unkind, banter flew by faster.
The crazy faces we so carelessly wore highlights
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Subtle changes sometimes hurt more than sudden disaster.
One heart has evolved while the other fool still cites
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.

Life is a long book; our frolics were only one chapter.
Reminiscing about those golden olden days invites
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Frail those bonds never were, friendship never did shatter;
Separate but close, we’re both still oddballs by all rights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter,
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

I love the winter.
If I were to miss anything from this Earth
it would be the winter.
I can hear my boots on a stone cold floor
My breath comes out frozen
in a house long abandoned.
My childhood memories
overwhelm me.
I've spent years of my life there
Now all of them
have become a stalactite of ice
Slowly melting
as the years go by.
I rub my hands together
to warm up.
Now I don't know which one is really frozen
My body or my heart?
Once I had bliss
moments I could feel safe.
Now I know better
I'm afraid I might ruin
my past blissful memories
by creating new ones.
They're not the same
At least for now.
Maybe years from now
they'll become the same
But the winter comes and goes
regardless.
Like all seasons,
I allow my heart to warm up
from time to time.
But when it's winter,
the walls of ice are impenetrable
It's safe inside
but sometimes quite lonely.
There come times when
I prefer that
Sadly these are getting more by the year
Who knows?
Life will make its circle
Winter, spring, summer, autumn
will come again.
Even when I'm gone from this world
Maybe in them one can find
a peculiar sense of justice.
Is there really?

breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.

The beach
and I
alone
the winter night
I hear its sigh
mingling
with my own
there are words
in silence
between us
a strange kinship
forged in stillness
I can't explain why
my feet  touch
the soft tender sand
a vibration
it does seem
to travel through
my total being
am I in a dream?

I feel
there's life
hidden
vibrant
in its every particle
and atom
I'm reminded
all at once
nature is a miracle
in every manifestation
open to the sympathetic eye

the sea recedes
at a late hour
it sings a dirge
as though
in a painful cry

the sky
is empty
no cloud
is in sight
the moon shivers
the stars slowly
away they fade
and die

man and nature
each bears a heart
they share rapture
and pain they harbour
against the backdrop
of time and its temper
Sturm und Drang
the sweet and sad songs
they had at the beginning
together embraced
and sung

after tonight
I'll never be
the same again
for life's mystery
I have tasted
and drunk

the hours quicken
the trees they wail
and the winds they sail
in gentle sweep
the leaves are shaken
a voice ethereal drifts
through the waters
the ripples are silenced
I harken
as though
in obedience:
'  I'm the first
  of time
  but willed
  not to be the last
  enchained
  like Prometheus
  to unending years
  yet humans not one
  do know my tears
  and you whom
  I meet tonight
  will carry my message
  and relate my story
and agony
near and far
for how blessed
you humans are
to know
the taste
of mortality'.

soft moans from a shrouded choir.
from the earth's chest, a rise and fall.
balanced on the edge of the hour,
a moonbird spiraling amidst endless drift.
husks of afternoon, scattered amongst golden fields.
leviathans rise above the tossed ground.
quiet in their sleep.