i hear the sound of a voice
a voice true and enigmatic
and in its magical presence
comes visions of beach and sun
sand, foam and jumping fish
palm trees laden with fruit
and ancient canoes battling
waves all through the night
oftentimes i hear that voice
carrying my name on breezes
and showing me where i go
as the days roll into the future
and i look back and linger
wondering who's to be pitied
and who in the end envied
that voice is like an auditor's
wanting to know why and why
these many columns remain full
and how come my fun account
remains solid and untouched
that voice, life's inner throb
makes me sore unfulfilled

my house
               my car
                         my children
                                            my furniture
                                                                my laptop
                                                                               and so on
How about
these are the companions and the comforts that life gives
in its wisdom and from its bounty
and verily my sojourn on earth
is dripping with possibilities

poet that i am
i shall be gone
only a little while
then shall my words
jump off the page
in a felicitous chant
that speaks a new truth
that i was never too far away
from the minds of the  human race
and the fluttering hearts of the world
i was never really gone though interred
poets live forever in their breathing words
that ride the winds across the years into new epochs
in new millenniums where a poet's words shall be gold indeed

glassy tears accentuate a wan smile
limp hand mirrors diminished vitality
as young flesh begins to shrink
consumed by the growling dogs of war

a comrade at arms does his best to stay calm
she looks at him as her bowels slide to the ground
from a stomach ripped open by cluster bombs
and asks him: will i be able to make it comrade
is this not the last sunset that i see with these eyes of mine

the sound of his incantations
hung like a fertile cloud in the air
till it became locked in an embrace
with the holy smell of incense bare
and all the while he droned on steadily
like a distant engine upon an incline
the birds of the night spun around him
crazy like a moth willing death to come
the hot wax stuck like glue on his fingernails
as the passion heated up and blew a blast
in the direction of mirthless unseen onlookers
witnesses to a macabre rite in the dead of night
the time for forging ties that bind was well nigh
for what better instrument to weld togetherness
than a grim kind of secrecy in the  dead wilderness

it was for me a glum and dark world
until I discovered the perfect antidote
deep raucous laughter from the heart
the creases on my face disappeared
and I was soft and smooth like a baby
when they took me off the mad island
I could laugh a fine sophisticated laugh
or do a coarse sarcastic cackle that jarred
against the aesthetic ring of affluence
so richly abundant in those emulating glee
they didn't know that i had stumbled upon
laughter when I needed something to do
In a world defined by magnificent loitering

after  the showers had stopped
we rushed out our hands cupped
to receive stray drops of sky water
then the games would begin in earnest
run,splash and laugh in the puddles
paper boat races on the meandering rivulets
we rolled in the mud and waited for the inevitable
mother screamed her head off about mud, dirt and disease
then like a chorus of cherubim we broke into happy songs
rain, rain stop! come another day; rain, rain fall again
we want your gift of pumpkins and watermelons
and though we knew it not we had stumbled on paradox
these are the things we used to do in our younger days