my icicle mind is frozen in time,
i see rainbows in snowflakes
and sunshine
in raindrops,
searching for puddles
never easy
to find.

black night path
took a turn
to the dim dull
low weak
orange glow
of the lonesome lamplight in the street below,
where the shadows hid
and the graces slid
and the hat of the martyr
hung on a brick
held by mortar
by the hook
and the handle
and glory sat
on the other side shining in the humble halo
of a rumbling light.

there's a river running by the meadow
next to sinner's
grove,
where the hobos huddle
in a freight yard place
and trip on tracks
and fall from grace,

I can't help thinking
where the serpents shudder
the angel stays

I can't help thinking when I was a boy,
a pocket full of flowers
meant a pocketful of joy,
and the  river by the meadow
had a gentle smooth flow,

I can't help thinking
where the serpents shudder
the angel stays.

these these morning yawns are drawing on,
to wake up now
to sweet birdsong
a rare and scarce occasion
as the body ages
and the bones
become thin
fresh as a daisy has to pay the day's wages
before a trickle
of strength is let in,
the droopy eyes,
listless sighs,
the walking through treacle
of waking up time. are drawing on,
to wake up now
to sweet birdsong
a rare and scarce occasion
as the body ages
and the bones
become thin
fresh as a daisy has to pay the day's wages
before a trickle
of strength is let in,
the droopy eyes,
listless sighs,
the walking through treacle
of waking up time.

out there
where they wait to stare good eyes blind,

crocodile style he scans
the surface,
hidden
from the eyes
of his persecutors,

out there
where they wait to stare good eyes blind,

beneath the ripples he stays
below radars
and the mad world tested and tried,

out there
where they wait to stare good eyes blind,

in his world of water
he glides
unnoticed by the unaware,
camouflaged,

out there
where they wait to stare good eyes blind.

a mirage, a shadow that disappears with the fading light.
All that you hear about me is inconsequential
For he who truly knows me cannot speak about me.
The me that you see is irrelevant
– For I’m not what you see,
I’m much more and a lot less than that
Anything you know about me is obsolete
– I’m ever-changing,
morphing into forms you cannot fathom.
I’m not where you search for me,
I’m not what you wish me to be.
Cry all you want, laugh while you can
Despair, lose your hopes and question your faith I will still remain the enigma that I am
For better or for worse.

Though my soul may set in darkness

it shall rise in perfect light,  

for I have loved the stars too fondly

to be fearful of the night.

these morning yawns are drawing on,
to wake up now
to sweet birdsong
a rare and scarce occasion
as the body ages
and the bones
become thin
fresh as a daisy has to pay the day's wages
before a trickle
of strength is let in,
the droopy eyes,
listless sighs,
the walking through treacle
of waking up time.

my chances tumble
my dice wear thin..
my sleeves wear hearts
that could not win..
and in time when tired minds
regret their leaving
finds behind
once so bold
now in sunken fields of clay
their glory gone
their shine that shone upon the dullest day
stolen by the gloss
this weary life wears away
may they see the treasure trove
that drove their path
had a wrath that hid in shadows
lit by lights
so soon to fade.

all these things and all these places
all these people all these faces
all these streets that end in strangers
cowboys Indians
amazing graces
nothing more
than pictures faded.

hearts break
minds mend
no escape from the never ends
and
all the pretty houses
and
all the pretty gardens
make emotions ache
and harden
as untethered souls search alone
for freedoms link
while beauty passes
in a blink
yet all the pretty girls
still wink and the sun comes round again.

all joyous thoughts are frozen
by this sorrow only death releases
and I begin to buckle
under separation's broken pieces
and each new dawn
another day
of endless heartbreak
and the pain
that cuts so deep without refrain
emotion's thief chose carefully
to steal away serenity
and i now sleep in blank night's darkness
this world to me so cold and heartless.

black dog and monkeys
and demons with grins
or in greasy spoon cafes
with losers who win
and when some folk are chatty
a silence begins
and i look through a window
at the birds and their wings
and i wish for the freedom
their fluffy wings bring
or the chirp of a jackdaw
who tries hard to sing
but never can tell when the shakes will begin.

few and far
undetected from the radar
as it sweeps and bleeps
but out of sight is out of mind,
disconnected
out of place,
wires crossed
intent misplaced the elusive days
insanity takes,
eluding all for falsity's sake
to make some sense
in a senseless state.

sat by that window
at last
with a draft
and the spaces
I needed
to pass the people
I met
and voices heard
quick to forget
going by
in zombie fashion
waiting vacantly
lacking passion
looking for something
or someone
to happen.

When time has turned
from seconds kept
Abandoned days that hours
left
And age is fraught
With discontent
and
Stolen moons with rainbows bent
The season's singular
intent
of Winter's gloom
or Summer's glow
and Spring's high tide
relentless ebb
and humdrum flow
All to come
and all
that go
All Things long learnt
but
Not to know
In the evensong of sorrow
in this day lit
dappled life.

now beside the reassuring
fireside
below the starlit spectral
skies
that aged guide to sailors, kings and the lost man's eyes
in wondrous new nomadic times
i drag my feet
through maverick steps
and follow tears the mortal wep.

and now in mists of time
where once my blue sky
held a sun that shone so bright
that light
could fight
the shadow's corner
there are no chinks now left to slip
through evil's armour
and I sit wrapped in black
forever trapped
and lonely
in this dizzy darkness.

I could be scattered to the wind
like snowflakes in a storm
my sunken soul shattered
and my body aching worn
as my spirit is sent rising
for another day to dawn
upon an empty heaven
where the ghosts have stole the key.

in webs of moonbeam shines
adrift
the tiller dreams
no more
beached on some ethereal shore
the signs
the broken souls ignore
now rolling home
to sand safe beaches
left to slowly
ponder
on the hand that heaven never reaches.