For a time I disliked change,
For a change I disliked time,
For a time, change disliked I,

We fear what we don't understand,
Ask those in power,
We fear they don't understand,
Abuse of power.

Goodnight, I will be up past midnight
jot a few words down, in the dim light,
hoping the ideas are light and bright,
in a story where time stands still until...

a son is found by his mother,
they are reunited with a sister and brother,
a daughter and son, and together,
they look for their father, husband and king,
while they save the known world, from disastrous
calamity...
don't believe it,
that is why, they call it fantasy...adventure

PSA   Public Service Announcement  PSA
oh remember to set your clocks back this weekend,
and that will give me an extra hour of time
for typing, while you all do what you do when
you stay up late and sleep in, too.  


Time for a change

The road followed the base of the steep hillside,
trapped there by the river and a park of city pride,
the footsteps walked along roadway and sidewalk,
as both young and old, converse and talked,
there are less
people now,
but every one walks the walk
that overlooks
the Columbia River, both life giver
and a taker,
people fish the river, above the plant, some
even float,
at a park named Binghy  
in hip-waders with a tube dinghy
casting their lines with flies tied, methods successful true and tried.

I have walked that same place
on many, many school days,
I have since walked more steps
more miles...much much more,
but every time I walk there,
I am once again on my way to school,
some bullies took me for a fool,
yet
I am here,
I did not fear
them then,
nor do I fear
those when
I meet them these days,
bullies do not change but technology does,
for I recognize that, as the cowards way,
and all I have ever done is walk away.

Until it comes time to stand my ground.


©DWE072013

shhhhhhhh,
kick back put your feet up,
take a tea, let it steep deep,
open a red let the air go to its head,
get a book, shut it all down,
power off your phone and leave it alone
get off the grid, if there is one, with power
where you live,
flip the page as your mind steps on to the
terrain of words,
while your socked feet,
touch anothers under the cover of
not enough leg room,
but you care,
so you share,
the ottoman
as your imagination
goes to automatic and into the words
that create pictures and stir emotions,
that take you places and show
               you faces,
and lives,
and living beyond, the hurt,
the superficial,
the ache that seldom goes away,
the real world,
that may have spit
and you are hurled to the side,
and it always seems to be on the wrong one.

Take heart, this too shall pass,...

whether it be poetry,
biographical history,
   a short story, pulitzer prize winner,
a novel idea,
or a series with or without a quest,
may it be the best time you spend,
while being grounded in knowing
someone, near or far is reading
what you are reading and
is with you and with you and
is on the same adventure too.




©DWE122013

The metal x said "Thou shall not pass"
Neon yellow gloves pointed to the sky,
warning who was watching, when they
were hit they flew far and fast (20 feet)

Embedded in the rubber that hits the road,
are what seem to be the remains of a toad,
but they are not, not at all,
they were the dangerous daffodil.

I guess his hate governor must of broke, or
he must have felt the power of engine,
so he closed his eyes inhaled that ****, or
maybe the forced move pumped his adrenaline.

What ever the case, there was not a witness and we know no flower whisperers
The stalks fresh with Spring agility could not stand the weight and snapped crisper.
then burnt back bacon char coaled on the grill, so far this is a measure of his ill, will.

We have nothing but WIDE TIRE tracks to go by and too bad he is the only one, for sure
and at the end of the month he will live here, Nevermore, Nevermore, Never ever more.

we were like two out of round wheels, on a three wheeled death machine,
we wobbled through our teens years, you with a record collection,
me with my military zeal, and the cadet life appealed to me,
you went to Washington State University
I joined the Canadian Armed Forces

We would cross paths not swords, from time to time, which no longer go slowly
We would say with words, but seldom heard what the other had said, eh?

The canyons of time has a sense of humour, and a better sense of live long and get grey hair,
the distance between us after three point six decades is less than twenty minutes by car
yeah, we connect on the usual social media, and we laugh, we cry, we like each others status
the wharf our boats bob at is like an aged lattice work and no cost for the mooring rights, it is gratis

glad you are doing well, you still have that bite in your words when you type
and your record collection is the largest and is well worth the hype
but the times and what we had may never be the same as the past,
I am no longer soldiering and you still are a friend, once for all and at last.

the out stretched
paw
is not a demand,
oh but it can,
not this night,
she wants the cold
she feels to flee,
she wants to be
in between,
and know where she
longs to belong,
and to be
part of the pack.



©DWE022014

Colour is not the point,
like beams of light that
                     do anoint
the hour which I lay flat
and wait for rest, or at
which point in the dark
                                      do I wrest it from a faerie light
or must I wrestle with
a bottle, pills to cause my ills to slip away and let the
pillow absorb my day, my worries, my strain,
where the engine,
has no off switch,
this engine sits on
top of me not purring
not whirring but
running rough shod
through me, I will not
admit to being sleepless, for by the time I write this,
you will all be in the land,
that I am jealous of, see?

Oh colour?
Which pill will I take,
I have different shades
for different days, and Hades,
waits for me as well, for one
of these times I may take too
many, but I am sparse would
not want to be left without any,
so those gates stay shuttered
as I wrap up and shudder,
through another night
where the next days, and days
dawn and I fawn over
my appearance, eyes with
circles dark, pale image stark
in a mirror, to the point, the clown
smiles back at me and asks
to be happy or not to be sad?,
I need sleep so pass a whole bowlful,
of sleep that all of you have too much of,
                              and push and shove
me
with
your
bed time stories,
nursery rhymes,
and lullabies,
in poetry and I will read what I need
                         to let go and let sleep
steep me overnight, when I will wake
                 up and pour into another day,
the literary love you have shown this poets way.

the flame that bends,
drawn by a vacuum,
kindle that carefully,

the nose of a dog,
with more glands,
and more glands,

than the human nose,
                          shows,
there are so many things,

too, where we are not the pinnacle yet
we thrive on and can be,
a guess at best, and include the unknown,

there is a foil
the unknown
has it as a foil,

but beware,
this one is a killer,
just ask the cat...

Have I got you ...
Or are you furious,
At how easy this was,

Try painting a Vermeer,
Using a mirror,
don't rush, use a brush too,

Do illusion, with light
refraction and reflection,
Tell me, after you see Penn and Tell..er,

Magic... illusion ...
Genius...all find a home,
it could fill a tome,

to define,
to expand,
on curiosity,

like thermal dynamics
and liquid viscosity,
or how do bumble bees fly?
                                            and why are they dying,
                                                I find this very trying,
                                                in their hives, are they lying,
waiting for some human,
to ask the right question,
with a taste for sweet and honey, of creativity

so Dorothy Parker,
has said she is
better without these
love,
freckles,
doubt and


*Curiosity?

The throb of my head is a pain,
The pulse beats and strains,
my will to read, to stay awake.

My nerve down my right arm,
Tingles like a silent alarm,
no jolt, just feeling out of control.

Not a good day to lift over my head,
I might lie down instead but with dread,
that live wire, inside, will not settle down.

Age shows at the strangest times and places,
You remember the names forgetting the faces,
Or is it the other way around, you tell me.

I have built bridges, with many hands and mine,
I have had sleepless nights, but now I must rest, FINE,
over time good days will replace bad, downs by ups.

Who will replace me, as mad as Hatter or in me cups?
Driven downward, not to disbelief but, on my knees,
Sour now my lips move in a prayer, "Remove this disease"

I am not ill, misguided maybe or forgot about hope,
I whine and complain, sure is a poor way to cope,
eyes grow weary, need to rest, this day is done, ...

... did I pass the test?  I will  know,
when the sky lightens, eyes open,
on their own to find the alarm,
next morning, with my right arm.

To my right, West stands the sun, no wait it is sinking slowly to the lowly horizon,
To my left , South East, the moon, becomes more as the sun is less, best keep my eyes on,
this.
I have both in the same sky, the other part of the planet has no day or no night, light
I am greedy and I am selfish, I want to keep them both, for more than these few nights,
a wish.
To early to tell if my wish will find the well and a bottom dry or filled with water,
Even if I am right or if I am wrong, I will give back freely not because, I oughta,
for you.


©DWE072013

Vague recollections,
Of curio collections,
Salt and pepper shakers, unused
crystal ashtrays, reflecting rainbows
of northern prairie light on days bright.

A prairie girl, did you miss the place near the Arctic Circle,
your home?  Did Odin and Freya call you away from here to
there, or was Thor, or Loki the thunder in your angry voice
that I feared and may have hid under the steep basement
stairs, quietly in the dark hoping you were unaware.

Some of your children, and
your spouse, left before you did,
I know that was tough, and a shame.
You were tougher, though, you did
suffer in you aging frame.

I know you loved us all, I know you knew me too,
very early you said of me "he is a sensitive child", which
I have found to be all too true, many years after you have
gone I miss you, grandpa and dad, Audrey and Vic too.
Did you all find Valhalla at Heaven's Gate?

So I will not stir up the past, nor
will I hurry, through each day, for
I will remember, and smile at those
memories that brought me joy, prose
and rhyme not of a child, but a Viking man.

©DWE032013

Tonight the stars seem
brighter some how,
maybe the clouds, as they lifted
dusted them
with silver from those linings
we have all heard about,
we all believe and no doubt,
that it must be true, do you
find that staring at them is right
or maybe it is because tonight
is the first time we met.

the cars that wash
down the boulevard,
take the wave sounds
with them, leaving
low tide markers,
deaf to the rush
of those metal wave
makers, some street
walker, wobbles on
high heels, and
weaves while waving
wandering from grass
to curb, wanting a
lift, cause life is a beach,
and all she can see for
miles is sand castles,
empty of their dreams,
empty like her,
wanting more than
sand dollars and the
stings of the jellyfish.


©DWE102013

the sky this night is
too far too dark,
away,
to be reached and drag-
ged down about
to cover
with some comfort
the bite, the deep bite.

the softness to be
heard as the voice
whispers on the wind
a song sweetly
too far to
be salve to
the bitter poison
in that bite.

cannot be dragged
from here as
weak and would wreak
havoc and too close
to what ills spill
and too far from
the good for what ails
the empty wind
and torn sails

with too far to sail
for the shore
for a quiet bay
for eyes that look
gently upon this salty face

too far out to sea,
never learned how to float
waves now hide the boat
...and the sharks are closing in

When you realize it was meant for you,
Do what comes natural to do,
Dance,
Express your joy with hands above your head, open
hands, move your hips, your feet or
add a wiggle instead,
In your happy spot,
In your happy place,
let the joy shine from your face,
Let movement cast your message for every eye,
The rich emotions will not let this time pass by,
Space and spot, that you are unable to stand still
Happy, Happy, Happy, until you get your fill,
If it takes music turn it loud,
Blast 'em and Bless 'em with the joy that overfills
YOU,
Share it because I know that it is true,
It
is
better
to
give
than
to receive,
and right now there are those around you,
that have forgot what joy looks like,
so Dance,
I said DANCE
in that happy spot, in that happy place
go on you tube, but don't hear me say
you have to dance this or that way,
it is the spot so play with your dance,
take the moment, take a chance,
to be too happy!


©DWE112013

the frenzy of emotions
wash like waves, the ocean,
of tears, saying see you soon as
every day,
people say,
they are travelling,
some journeys go as planned,
some journeys go awry,
or new journeys begin,
before you can say goodbye

it can happen like that,
it has happened like that,
many times before sometimes
for one, sometimes for many more,
not to diminsh your grief,
not to say get over your sorrow,

you loved them
and they now know

you miss them
and you let it show

you have let us
know, they cannot be replaced,

we see it so clearly in your teary eyes,
and worn out faces, no chance to say that goodbye.

To one another.

Pieces on the ocean
may as well
be your heart,
no time to get ready
to be apart.

it builds

it is built, by

layers of wind,

pressure so low,

ions of energy,

stacking, packing

waiting to attack,

with force and no recourse,

rain and hail, pale

in comparison, to

the spin without and within,

of the column, the pillar,

just add fire, and the ire

would be more obvious,

touching down, to the ground

where people construct dreams,

but there is no emotion in

the storm, but people,

those trying  

to survive,

or revive their communities,

who are relying,

in the aftermath,

more than on memories,

splintered,

hands and hearts hang

on to one another,

for comfort,

for it is the only thing,

that makes sense after

all, the air tense with fury,

they restore,

they shore up

the courage and faith in humanity,

American quilt tested,

structures bested,

blow after blow,

yet the people remain,

lives lost, many in pain,

and they all share a refrain,

"we remain,

changed, yes, alone, not,

shared loss,

fortitude gained,

we remain, together as community"

no controlled response
part or whole nonchalance
body's toll at the whim of this ponce
maniacs a troll named Hans

need to wake from this dream,
still sleeping while the scream
ripped from my lips, a jet stream
of profane pain in the extreme

duck pond near by, fetid pool of duck **** floating
as eyes stare inches away, drool drips from Hans gloating
as I sit with legs wrapped around a pole, body weight totally
resting on one ankle hands behind my back, pain brutally

stay upright
fall back
the punishment will not be light

...oh yeah ...pain
my only friend
this is the end
give me a pen
I'll sign the ****
blank paper and
Hans will be sure to fill it in with anything he wants
he has a hankering for my soul...
he will start
with my heart
go for the nerves
take all my verve
get my mind
in a bind
then leave me
all alone............................................................­...... miles from here
who will then
teach me
to walk
on two feet
again.

to accept some of

water, food, solace-getting,

to live to give JOY.

it is late,
find something to sate,
your thirst, your hunger,
that greed you call a need,
when you
are haunted
by want for
things you may
not find,
for a dollar,
FOOD,
no F.O.O.D.
Found Objects Of Desire,
play with that fire,
come visit the quagmire,
watch that first step it is a sticky one,
but it is late,
your watch is covered in much muck.
oh phoque, your cell phone is roaming,
in the gloaming of the horizon,
your fate is sealed,
kiss your paycheque goodbye,
hear, here is a hand,
an offer not a command,
take hold, for help is fleeting,
just like love.

But love is unconditional,
and help is propositional,
it has to be accepted,
to work.

As the tables were filled when we came in the door,
could have went home, if we wanted space for sure,
we sat at the biggest table, with the noisy crew
moved the chairs,
staked our ground, after all what else could we do.

Go home?

Go home.

Go home!

And leave here because of the crowd,
were we too addicted to be loud'n proud?

But today would be a special day,
Sue a regular, senior street type,
was yelling at the world, with hype
and attitude, no Beatitude came out
of her mouth, as I watched her shout,
I knew I had to learn from her.

A new guy passed Sue on the sidewalk,
their gestures were not related or anticipated,
one talked about trees and yelled at the sky,
while the other walked by carried a Coke,
                                                     on his thigh.

He came in the door all sweaty and twitchy,
swear words were every second word that came
from his mouth every second it was open.

His eyes did not understand what they saw,
his mind'n  mouth hated it all, jutted his jaw,
Stuck the Coke in his pants went out the door,

at a run, streaming curses, from his lips
hung in the air, scary for some with kids,
at a run to London Drugs next door,
less than two minutes he was out,
                                                        runn­ing fast past the Burger King,
while Sue yelled profanities from the Boulevard
called King George, daring traffic, to drive close,
standing with one foot in a lane, the other foot... as well
where are the traffic police, when you need'em,

But what does Sue need, she is always around?
What about sweaty, angry guy, a new face in the
crowded traffic of my favorite coffee shop,
Bring them peace Lord, and a safe place to sleep, Lord,
and someone who has what they need, Lord,
to keep them out of the traffic, off the street.

Traffic in the streets,
like the city has a cold,
that has made to the lungs,
you are much more, than that
sinkhole on one fifty-two, to me,
this won't stop me or get me down,
cars surround mine, four wheels drowning in
plastic up to the roofline,
my nerves, are no longer elastic,
they call it the rush hour,
should be the crush hour,
for all the fender benders,
and drivers in my face,
laying on their horns,
saying, "pay attention",
and their intention is
to take your place in line,
if I could be anywhere it,
would be with you but here
am I, in the heart of one five two,
main artery blocked by grid lock,
and my thoughts turn east,
away from the feast that waits
for me up the road,
there is something about the mysterious
unknown, that has grown on me,
but if I don't focus on the locusts
overhead, and those behind the wheel
                     of their automobile,
my life
maybe
summed
up by an accident.

Uh huh, Uh huh

four feeble pairs of wings
flapping, beaks preening
                                           imaginary things.

mom bird looking old
pop bird real bold
their four offspring
                                are being told

"avoid the black birds
the biggest and the blackest"

they perch on the rooftop
near the gutter, cheeping
                                          loudly all a flutter

even in the bird world
the squeakiest young'un
                                         gets the greasiest grub

diving, landing, more
feeding on demanding,
mom and pop bird are
in charge, "beware of wings
                                               size, LARGE"

finding a wet garden bed,
beaking the broken ground till
tiny pebbles and tiny insects
                                                feed the hunger digest the rest.

Young wings no longer frail,
flight and landings
                               dive and lift, glide
and swoop, and land alight
                                              on the edge of a solo flight
until the three birdboys and one birdgirl
                                                        ­            find a mate, each

(And give mombird and popbird a wel-deserved rest)

                                                          ­                             oh and as for the three bad birds
                                                           ­                            in all black tuxedos, they were chased
                                                          ­                             and they raced away from six fast
                                                            ­                           fearless finches

stars that blink, those that flash,
do they wink, do they dash,

on steeled wings, secreted cache,
where they bring, people stashed,

to far away places, water goes splash,
sunburnt faces, no credit, pay cash,

save each week, don't spend on trash,
don't dip or sneak, the trip will crash,

before you get on the plane,
let alone, run across the hot
and sandy of the beaches of Maui

Why do they wail so, these Sirens, with the demands that I turn my eyes.
Their sound is a warning and a call, to strengthen my resolve or fail.
Were I near the body of water each day through, I would cry out too.
But no one, for ages past could resist neither, the ocean nor their call.

Their sound, is a warning and a call, to strengthen my resolve or fail!
Is it a weakness, why do I doubt my own confidence, trembling?
But no one for ages past could resist, neither the ocean nor, their call!
Take me to the water so I can better hear, that they, not sound my name.

Is it a weakness, why do I doubt my own confidence, trembling?
Troubled like a boat with out a rudder, let me go, like I have no anchor!
Take me to the water so I can better hear, that they not sound my name.
As wind bites the sail and carry's the ship away, I have heard the bait and bit in deep.

Troubled like a boat with out a rudder, let me go, like I have no anchor!
Yet my feet are on solid ground and I feel as if I have drowned without the Cry.
As wind bites the sail and carry's the ship away, I have heard the bait and bit in deep.
I will wade in to my knees to be sure, better my waist or chest so I can swim the crawl.

Yet my feet are on solid ground and I feel as if I have drowned without the Cry.
It is better I who can withstand their drag and pull, just get me to the ocean, I need no craft.
I will wade in to my knees to be sure, better my waist or chest so I can swim the crawl.
Why do they, wail so, these Sirens, with the demands that I, turn my eyes.

All...that sparkles,
Glimmers
Gleams
Shimmers it seems,
Remarkable
Spark
Not just jewellery,
There are
Gems,
who are people,
can't be worn,
can't be bought,
can't be tagged...
So you will know,
if you have to ask
the Creator may
   take you to task,
as they are priceless.

Not guilty doesn't mean you are innocent

not surprised by the wrongs these days,
some play at life
some deal death
anger in so many places
fury on drivers faces
all twisted like a basin
bristle cone pine

trVth
is people,
long ago
we lost
our youth
and innocence
no patience
no rich milk
of any kindness
and total blindness
to even a mite
of charity
due to
economic
disparity
alternating
faith less
worry and
less faith,
have
we gone
beyond
hope
there is
love
there is
the
lover
of my soul
which IS the
Greatest of these
even more
than
TRvTH.


©DWE072013

Famous words,
famous title,
   my take, take a while
      to digest, the twisting of,
       the thread turning,
to bite into a groove,
stand on the turning
metal edge and see what
comes at you from around
the curve, of the ever turning
of the *****,
into,
the abyss,
the sunrise,
the surprises that await,
or a some would say your fate,
                 then there is your faith,
that the ***** will keep on turning,
and the desire keeps on burning from the
inside out,
call it what it is, passion, PASSION,
from the outside in,
call it what it is, yesterday's fashion,
peer pressure,
bullyitis or as I call it cowardice,
don't stop the *****, turning,
each sunrise you are earning,
no points,
no dollars to fill a greedy need,
a chance to make a difference,
a chance to find fresh romance,
a chance to give instead of take,
as for love,
you have to recognize the source,
before you can imitate of course,
let the ***** turn
for once it stops,
you are either dead,
or Jesus has returned instead.

eyes downcast and heart heavy,
thoughts move slowly and march
far away, east of here,                                                       Newtown, CT
the echoes ring throughout,
how far could the bells be heard?

blame the crows
perched in rows
of branches
black suit for a foggy mourning,
the mist so thick it holds in the "caw!",
and they all answer the echo,
but they work at breaking branches
down to twigs, to carry away to their
nest, it is the best
investment in their home.

Yet they drop and leave a few and these land
just past the sidewalk
where the edge is lava rock,
catching twigs in the rusty red colour that
is more rust then red in the fog, these hold
down all sorts of rejects, cigarette but and bits
of paper, those twigs from trees, worked by crows
and silken threads with drops of misty dew.

What a fine thread,
for a fine woven web,
there and there and there
my they are every where,
what kind of spider or
arachnid, weaves a home,
a spider web
without a lid or cover,
with twigs, lava rock
all around, surrounded by other junk,
I would get, I could get,
close to have a peek,
but what if a spider
were to bound from
beneath the web, and lava rock brandishing a sharp twig?



©DWE102013

Thunderous rain and,
bright jagged shafts of lighted
energy draining.

Shakes uncontrolled,
dog pants walks hears  internal
rebellion not play.


©DWE092013

Peace may not find you and your
Resolve will crumble in your hands, seen by
Observers who will shake their heads while
Fear will come in with each breath and
Easy stuff becomes hard because of
Selfish attributes that have your name on them, playing
Silly word games when work needs to be done where
Idiots need not apply and
Objections will fall on deaf ears
Neophytes BEWARE and
Aware that
Losses are not counted in the win column.

Misunderstanding purposely
Is a poor choice, unwise
Seeing your education
Combined with your
Obvious position of leadership
Neglecting the human cost while
Dutifully embracing rules
Undercutting human values
Cynically pointing one ring- finger in any direction to
Tyranny.


©DWE062013

There are spies everywhere,
That is the last thing
some of you need to hear,
so stop listening.

There are spies everywhere,
That is the last thing
some of you need to know,
so stop thinking.

There are spies everywhere,
That is last thing
some of you will read,
so start running.

Hey, wait for me.

©DWE072013

tolerance
for the plain
boredom hurts
watching grass grow to become clouds

nagging nerves
poke, poke, poke
never give it a rest in peace
will it hurt the next time, or be gone away

invisible even
under scrutiny
lying in wait
pain that moves like moss gathering

building like thunder
striking like lightening

mercy

I know I won't be shot for writing poetry,
even if i was on the walkway or side street,
ok?
I know you who read will react with speed,
but none of the actions will make me bleed
13?
replica resulted in repugnant use of force,
they were experienced police of course
ak
he was returning it to a friend,
guess he was at the wrong end
47
so in a country wear the right to bear arms is protected,
so in a state that is self-proclaimed progressive,
we have an innocent fall,
not trip or stumble,
he caught bullets as they tumbled
into him.

I am confused that people with real guns that cause real harm,
walk in and the killing begins,
a kid a child about to be a man, had the admiration of his peers,
life torn, 'cause someone did not want to get close, and be sure,                                                            ­        

maybe he had an ipod or phone with ear buds, had his hoodie up
more like he did not think that "stop" was meant to be the end
for him, unlike the bullets, that put holes in
his dreams and the hopes...of a future.

I am harsh I admit it,
but nothing no nothing is harsher than
losing your child,
for any reason,
it is wrong,
but this,
              but this speaks of sorrow a whole life long
a void



a n     empty                                                           space
that will be filled with only tears
as they hold onto one another
instead of, their son or brother.  

Thoughts and prayers to all, yes, even them


©DWE102013

step away,
to watch,
the sway,
the notch,
in your gun belt,
as you
pull the
trigger, quicker
the more liquor,
you imbibe,
become a tribe,
of misbegotten,
choices,
and the voices,
cheering
you on
to spawn,
a new life
form,
usually only found in a dorm at university known liverless unconscionable -
"capacity
to drink
alcohol
unknown"


©DWE102013

Will it always only be a safe dream
like wandering in a bare wilderness,
game to robust predators, and wildness
clear choices call across the primal stream.

It was late Spring when we first did daydream
the fragrant flowers were dusting progress
Winter's meagre offer, a cold caress
the wildlife, sedate upon the grounds glean

of Fall's gathered rare jewelled leaf mountains,
among the valley's musk we would linger
peak with sounds, echoes loud voiced joy bringer
beyond Summer's pleasured column fountains,
wayward wine red chances, seasoned drinker
deep red and bottled up, loose danger pains.

Count the many in the sky,
count many from your eyes,
wish upon one, falling through the night,
let the others fall into an open hand and open heart.

In my sight,
For I can only stand
in awe of Heavens' show
For I can only give comfort,
to stem and catch the flow,
until your lips glisten
with the ones I have missed.

Which I will gladly kiss, away.



©DWE082013

we all need to laugh,
we all need to laugh more than we cry,
we all need to laugh till tears stream down our faces,
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh
we all need to laugh till those tears fill up the empty places
we all need to laugh and our heart floats and lifts that vessel
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh, at ourselves,
we all need to laugh, hope floats a boatload of troubles,
we all need to laugh, so others will get infected and laugh too,
we all need to laugh,

who is firts?

©DWE072013

I rasp when I talk
until
paroxysms shake me to be quiet,
like some impatient ill-tempered,
thing inside my chest where my lungs
were last seen breathing,
now they shake like cans of rusty nails,
and a sneeze,
                    and a sneeze,
                                       and a sneeze,
till I and Fifi, have to go outside before
one of us wets,
how are you doing you ask and show caring,
not wanting me to be sharing whatever it is I have,
I answer with a muffled sound,
like my nose was dropped and I sat down on it,
"Unwell, hankyou, por assking"


©DWE122013