once upon a drowsy afternoon drowned in the heat of life
we sat upon a knoll playing queen and king in lavender blue
and wilfully waited to be tempted by the horned one to finally feast
upon the intensity of our rampant libidos and our malleable greenness
now these many years later in the warmth of your smoky country kitchen
as you tend the stew for the old man in rimless bifocals and a hearing aid
remember how some dreams died but we lived and learned nevertheless

the yellow moon sank lower
and looked like a wan flower
as with gritted teeth he struggled
against the compulsive urge consuming him
and driving him towards something dire
at the dawn of day crossroads
where shadows and shapes danced
to silent tunes in gleeful abandon
this was his day of morbid harvest
and an ancient debt was about to be paid
with the sweat and fat of ebullient resolve

the dud man wanted a saint
but she failed his mean test
even after a faint and a feint
with a huge sigh he let it rest
took up his rucksack and left
she cast him  a long wistful look
her slumped pose the picture
of internal dejection and anguish
sharpened by an endless lament
that she'd not shown him his theft
of the aching heart of a  live woman
of vibrant flesh, blood and dreams
she longed to tell him straight
she was not an idea to be analysed
and later discarded like an abused rag
but the unkind distance engulfed him
even as the rays of the sinking sun
blended their gold with his yellow attire
thus she knew as of that unfeeling day
such mishaps were the very fabric of life

In all this illusion
lies a deep confusion
about what I am
and who I am, really,
and when its all said and done
I am just someone who passed by
but never came this way again
In all this illusion
lies a deep confusion
about what my purpose is
and what the bigger purpose is, really
but when it's all said and done
I am just a wanderer on the prowl,
looking for dreams to embrace
and looking for succour
in a world gone crazy with soccer
But, in all this din nobody hears me, anyway
Lord, this life is depraved!

creepy night river awake like a fever
as fireflies glow in furtive morse code
the eerie evening commands silence
in the hollow empty spaces yielded
in sonorous silences by a yawning dearth
of everything that's sacred, pure and sweet
once there was raw laughter and joy here
and weavers wove rich tales of fat worms
for their pampered nestlings afloat on air
once there was life and presence here
but now small spaces abound in this vast absence
of sunshine smiles and catwalk swinging
now it's plovers, owls and night jars galore
as their apocalyptic cries smite the night
like a plague in New Canaan where glory
is never too far away from the surface gloss
of a loveliness kidnapped by the salacious gods
of lewd desires and morbid libidos alive in tales
that are forever testifying to the loud presence
of envious divinities on a free ride upon our egos
everything is gone now but the thunderous silence
and the smiles that lit up our days are now but a memory
of wan looks and faded joys clad in the hollow feelings of pain
and that's all that ever remains when our futile antics are done

it seemed she was warm and cuddly
like a lovely song from deep inside
she seemed to be other things besides
and this made him tag along humbly
like a lover sworn to love in eternity
yet drowning in a flood of hollow tiffs
that shred the serenity of a drowsy day
on an evening when  all things were laid bare
for all and sundry to witness cruel truths
about what never was except in our fancy alone

i thought i was alone
  till i saw the shadow
         behind me
          and how
                it
         trembled
              and
        hesitated
    at each next step
        i knew then        
    that we're never alone
          because
           there's
      always someone
          around

when i think about things
  i remember the flings
and the lazy afternoon walks
and stolen hugs in the dusk
i think about mother
busy in her smoky kitchen
and father with a pipe
in the corner of his mouth
puffing out smoke like a sage
i see grandmother's toothless smile
and hear her sing a happy song
lustily as if there was a throng
dying to hear her yodel
one last time this side of the great divide
and then i think of the girl
in the cheap cotton dress
and how she thought she was taken
although i was no more than a cadet
in these matters of sore hearts and headaches

little bird up on high
out of me tease a sigh
and thrill me till i'm prone
flap your graceful wings
and rise into the blue
little bird heaven-bound
sing your catchy song
but dear please I pray
don't make it too sad
lest the sky weeps
in deep melancholy
and my eyes in reverie
sympathetic, soak the world
with a flood of sad tears

she succumbs to her own beauty
the way one yields to awesome fate
and carries it like an accidental gem
that she has to learn not to worship

to watch her you'd think it hurt for sure
with no conceited smile for good measure
her true asernal before which suitors wilt
is the stoicism of her serene countenance

she lends credence to roadside philosophies
based on the assertion that beauty and grace
are accidents of biology and heritage
and takes no credit for such accomplishments

a woman is beautiful even when the straits are dire
and days are darkest in the most depraved of places
she weeps silent tears when her children are hungry
and they gorge themselves on her loveliness and sleep

tomorrow being another day she struggles anew
and conquers hard reality with feminine creativity
and no matter how hard ill-fortune lacerates her
her delectable contours and carriage still shine through

she has no false pride though she's a pearl of great value
and is forever the stoic beauty driven by the calmness
of the aesthetic tremours of her bewitching gait
in the shadow of a moon rising on the horizon

woman you're nature's rival in beauty and depth

Comrades and friends
What seems to be
Is not what really is
When I fall into a hole
You’ve dug for me
You are with me in it
When the swell of the tide
Sweeps me away into oblivion
You dare not rejoice
For the same tide
Will hasten your passage
When it’s your time
Those that harm the body
Only scratch the outer shell
Inside where I reside
I remain beautiful and unscathed
And live to fight another day
Propelled by you *****-nilly
To other realms
In other dimensions
Thus accomplish I
What you fear to contemplate
Mine is a feat for all time
While you wonder and speculate
Endlessly ...

Rita
Sullen, sultry but delectable nevertheless
She looked at me like an adjudicator
And my confidence sank way down low
I became a blubbering idiot
Whimpering like an orphaned puppy

                      Theodora
Bereft of height but redeemed somewhat by her face
She looked at me like I was the answer to all her prayers
And my disdain for seekers of things personal shot through the roof
I became this despicably insensitive yuppie living only for music
And her pining heart sent her home early upon a light breeze

                       Maria
clear complexion with the tone of ripe yellow peaches
She walked out of a shower into the sunshine like a subject of art
When her gaze touched my doting eyes I was lost forever
And my obsession with beauty and allure was well and truly fanned
I became a frequent visitor at the altar of romantic slaughter where dreams die

                        Elsie
Dark, with dancing eyes and a bobbing ***** replete with femininity
Elsie tortured me with her hungry look then huffed like she was breathing her last
My infatuation with girls that treated me like a killer of their hearts began here
I desperately wanted to reciprocate her take-me-now urges under the June sky
But alas, these things were never meant to be; she was just a maid and I was on the way up

                        Peggy
Tall and sweet with articulate eyes and a younger sister that spoke for her
She was not one to play hard to get and declared her love like it was a blessing
She made my ego grow in leaps and bounds and had a figure like an artist's model
I was stunned by her loving openness and could have tied the knot if I could
But circumstances, as always, altered cases and we went our separte ways for good

                        Clementine
Succulent like the clementine, her namesake, she aired her feelings out for me to see
She had a bigger sister who treated me like I was what her sister needed in perpetuity
Clementine and I shared a secret that we kept from my besotted cousin
My love for intrigue and convolution henceforth was my driver in matters of the heart
And I grew into this heartless beau who needed to be rescued from his own folly

And today in my armchair under the leafy avocado pear tree I sit and wonder where I lost it

listen and listen well to this story
that to every lover gives glory
'tis everyone's rare narrative
a tacit reminder to everyone
that everything happens to everyone

she was once a true love of his
and gave him reason enough to kiss
for when their searching eyes locked
a sizzling  ripple lashed them both
in a moment of seizure that immobilized them

his eyes  could see only her in her rich allure
he was impaled and enslaved by her lyrical walk
and could only gape and drool while she slew him
with that body, that walk and the utter sweetness
it promised without reservation or coyness

but as life often will have it, the song that her life was
faded into the cold distance and as she ascended into time
his sore heart wailed and he sought her everywhere in vain
till it dawned on him that she had been lovely and elusive to the end
his sacred duty was to fan the memory of one once a true love of his

this story my people, is enacted every day everywhere at all times
and though there's nothing new under the blue skies above
        the pain of acute loss is never a collective experience

when she starts that yawning
you know you should be going
                  the writing is on the wall
and you can forget about getting another call

when he keeps looking at his wrist watch
you know there'll never be a cuddly touch
                  the signs are there looming large
and dead is your dream about floating on a barge

when the wild party is finally done and over
and the lights start blinking you find you've lost your lover
                                            it's plain to all and sundry
there's no capital in being solitary and sultry

since none of that can change the law of diminishing returns
though some along life's highways may wish for extensions
                                   but passing time means general depletion
and when your back and your eyes start failing it's check-out time

and the snort  goes on
as the pompous speaker drawls on
and the snort goes on
as the mad man sees what they don't see
that the obese speaker with the mole is at sea
talking about wonderful intentions
but having no idea how to get there
and the snort goes on ...

a sullen blue monday
can be a lovely green haven
when new profound thoughts sprout
and we know then that heaven is a state
induced by the euphoria and warmth
radiated by the creative hub on the hearth
that incubates our long-suffering dreams
let us go forward then, today a mess of hopes
and tomorrow couch potatoes venture out

when the rain calls
this smitten heart falls
and there are heavy showers
in its pensive chambers
torrid feelings are brewed
as the day's fare is stewed
raucous are the thunderclaps
across a grieving heart
that feasts upon the sad cuisine
spewed forth by vindictive life
and abetted by an ailing soul
this song will never end
and the tears will never stop
for it keeps raining in my heart

mouth
  minty and fresh
     neck fragrant
           like
lavender in season
         navel
poesy of surprises
    cascading
        gently
into the valley below
where her tulips are
       a bulbous
       perennial
rain forest of ecstasy
profusion and fruition
    after the peak
        later
    his raisiny eyes
and smashed heart
        drool
   at the sight
        of
        her
lilies in the valley

if you're looking for an apple
then you've come to the right place
i'm red and ready for your pouted lips
i'm smooth, glossy and juicy like heavenly nectar
i'm true, wholesome and authentic with no toxics
and with me you're guaranteed full health and happiness

if you want to cuddle
you've come to the right place
i'm long, slim and yellow with a smoothness that's hard to beat
i am good when you travel, sweet without being cloying
your banana boat song is a hymn to my tropical warmth
and i'm suave and exotic to the hilt, you can't do better than me

if you want to drown in sweetness
tangelo is your lady, and you've come to the right place
i'm buxom, round and absolutely oozing with juice and sugar
i'm exotic and you find me only where good taste is supreme
and believe me once you **** my depths and drink my juice
you're forever a great believer in aesthetic cuisine

And for you life can be gulp after gulp of sweetness and joy

Waxing lyrical, a poet friend enthused:
the world is an oyster if you're looking for pearls
Going similarly lyrical we can say:
the world is a jungle if you're looking for lions
the forest is a cold room if you're looking for game
the sky is a blue heaven if you're looking for a haven
the world is a shopping mall if you're looking for bargains
the world is a dealers' market if you're looking for a ****
and life is an onion that you peel and sometimes weep
when you miss out on wild parties and pleasure trips

here they go again , these experts
telling us things to sadden the heart:
game may not be that safe to eat
running river water is never a treat
for it carries upstream decadence

here they go again, these stuffed-shirt experts:
water is two to one hyydrogen and oxygen
boiled, the oxygen steams away into the air
and your cappuccino has a hydrogen flavour
we endanger our lives when it we drink and savour

here they go again, the learned heralds of demise
they tell us that nothing we can ever devise
can avert the armageddon that's surely coming
the entropy or second law of thermodynamics
transforms physicists into latterday prophets

here they go again on prime media, the erudite experts
talking about free radicals, anti-oxidants, titanium utensils
and the havoc that excess proteins, fats and carbohydrates can cause
it’s time to go puritan and vegetarian in this new poisonous present
where fun is frowned upon and barbecues are a deadly pastime

in this age of dietary enlightenment and forced moderation
we must eventually go raw in our cuisine and be natural about it
or perhaps be as creative as possible before the nutritionists come in
to tell us how not to cook our food and how not to eat it
living was great fun before this age of detoxification and cancer!

Roll your mesmerizing eyes
Like you’re some out-of-this-world creature
Waiting to be in that lovely magazine feature

Roll your eloquent tongue
Like the pizza is heavenly cuisine
For the high table at the messianic banquet

Roll your rich undulating body down the street
Like you’re a cask of articulate wine with body and bouquet
And step out like one that’s caused some beauteous dismay

With the exquisite allure
Exuded by your bubbling personality bathed in mystic aura
That’s forever in evidence in your metaphorical salt licks

Where those who want emotional nourishment and equilibrium
Seek to be satiated without risk of odious opprobrium
From the curse of attention from despicable grovellers

Then roll and rock to the beat of a classic song of intimacy
Like the theme and melody were created just for you; and to
Break the hearts of the faint-hearted many lying along your way

To the peak of hypnotic arrest in the folds of time
Where those whose lazy silence slew them are forgotten
Like they are the discarded wretches of obsolescence

No matter what new trick he tried
A new deodorant or mouth freshener
Sideburns, swagger or rascally scowl
She yawned, wore her pretty little frown
And swore that he was playing the gem
When he was just another line in her poem

No matter what new-fangled idea he brought
She told him plain and square in caustic words
He wasn’t an iota of what she wanted or sought
So he went back to nights of pining and misery
And morning vigils for the postman’s delivery
Hoping to be more than just another line in her poem

Thinking and believing he could leave and learn
He went abroad to build his sunken profile
In places where none could ever him deride or stifle
Since there’s always some safety in anonymity
But when finally he landed on their shores again
He was still not more than just another line in her poem

So let's live and learn to read the writing on the wall
No matter what; and no matter how this order might be tall
For it matters not what fantasies or novelties you conjure
From what exotic lands or eccentric peoples far and wide
She remains spoken for by the high ideals of her imagination
And you forever will be just another line in her waspish poem

waiting for something to happen
gives a false sense of motionlessness
but that's all in the mind

waiting for someone to notice you
takes forever and that's sure and true
but again that's all in the mind

the moments that stretch endlessly
and those that pass all too quickly
are really no different

our frantic little dances in the world
must look to some god out there
like the ants we watch as they wander

and these forever moments of pain, suffering
or solid success unlimited in scope or duration
are mere dewdrops in the scheme of things

thus i ask in utter bewilderment
how we explain eternal damnation
in proportion to the whiffs our lives are

eerie plover cries
and night jar acrobatics
in broad daylight
were a sign of something amiss
especially coming so soon
after a barn owl
had pecked his fruit bowl at lunch
and a crow had sat on his head
and cawed lustily for an eternity
it's *** for tat from nature
when we think only of ourselves
without doubt we demean our stature
when we upset nature's designs
one of these days an ape will come visiting
and help himself to the fowls

make each other happy
if you can and when you can
and especially when feel you can’t
because opportunity often eludes us

we're all colour and bliss as we sit
fleeting guests at the table of life
where we learn to savour the sweets
of the world's ephemeral treats

when our little dance in the sun is done
like butterflies we fold our wings
till the next flight, as memories mope around
in the vaults of our shared experiences

thinking and feeling something's just not enough
and never thinking and feeling anything's just as rough
so while there's time for hope, love and sincerity
have a heart to heart talk about the things that really matter

when the cotton bolls were fluffiest and whitest
we would have a preview of the wealth waiting in the wings
and like spoilt brats pick our destinations and pastimes in transit
to stations that moved us up the ladder in society's hallucinations

we spoke about the white gold elevating us beyond our dreams
and our imagination soared above the almost mythical themes
of poverty fled and riches flared with flair as hard currencies
lay between fingers that had tended the cotton and picked the bolls

but the cotton didn't sell and it was another year of still-births
and stunted fantasies in a land hankering for good living and excess
oh the pain of gratification deferred!

Poetry gives the magic back to words
and makes words flesh again
as it was in the beginning
till our quantum-leap thoughts
spurred on by incantatory rhythms
often like latterday Gregorian chants
materialize into the dancing silhouettes
of solid but surrealistic forms in fantastic hues
thus the poet is the custodian of creation from nothing

how so very sore
the irksome loss
of life and shine
of aesthetic personality:
the configuration
of your widely acclaimed assets!
lost too
what you had in mind:
a cruise on the lake
luxury on a house boat
with tiger fish jumping
crocodiles dozing on the sandy banks
and sleepy hippos yawning
alas!
the things you had in mind,
lost now, but not ever forgotten
you had such fertile dreams; a flight to Shangri-la
to live, love and frolic in the foliage
where thirsts are quenched, and
longings are satisfied; these are the things
you had in mind
so sad the converse reality of providence:
sweet dreams really should come true sooner!

your role is to be gorgeous
                                    desirable
                                         remote and unattainable
mine is to yearn and moan
                                            then lie down and die
                                                      as I’m taunted, forsaken and abandoned
                                                                             by my illusions of you

once there were lavenders here
            blue and mellow like the song of a blue waxbill
                              swaying in the breeze
            in obeisance to your hypnotic lilac outfit
and i sat there mesmerized like an alien on foreign terrain
          as if the outer person mattered that much
                  till like Houdini you broke the chains
                        of the intensity of my need
                                 and i was alone again
                                          naturally

let me tell you now just how i saw you:
you wooed the world with your sublime figure
accentuated by that supreme  walk of art in life
that became you so well in love without strife
i saw and felt the beauty reposed in you
but how futile and hapless now
this belated lyric to you
you must have come from a constellation of stars
your name should have been stella or estelle
queen of the skies who made earth her chosen abode
and walked upon it like a storybook queen
you spoke like a fabulous heartthrob
and had us transfixed like pilgrims in worship
your enigmatic gaze was magnetic
wafting but unseen incense oozed from your nostrils
as milk and honey danced upon your lips
later to nourish my thoughts and limbs
in the solitude of early evening as venus began to rise
in truth you were a goddess on sabbatical
and your fabled home is in the cosmic mists of time
where i hunger to be a devoted acolyte in your service
forever chanting the treasured words: it is well

if i could
i would go to the ends of the earth
to see this rare moment
that we can't ever replicate
blaze into infinity
if i could
i would stand under your sunshine smile
on sorry days
when simple things can gladden the heart
and on dreary days
when rain pours down like sorrow
and the sodden ground weeps a river
as hearts are torn into shreds of regret
at the confluence of  life fled and love forsaken
if i could
i would trap whispered wisdom and treasured secrets
to trade for a song on the common market of bitter sighs
where the things we imagine in our wildest moments
are the price we pay for lost times and opportunities
as the broken dreams of many litter the way
to the perches of watch towers  that are forever courting the sky

she was the dance queen of the night
fragrant and exotic in her daily flight
from the bite of tropical night chills
under a starless sky and a pale moon
full of false vows that he would croon
with a granadilla fruit of raw passion
teasing his hungry eyes and keen nostrils
hot desire locked itself around their hearts
like a surreptitious granadilla creeper
entwining itself around a wooden lover
and soon the fruit of their passion had burst out
in a crescendo of dilated senses and smooth skin
she knew then that he was gone never to return:
the fabled passion fruit could be so very cloying

tonight
the wailing wind
is my bane
as i look through the pane
of the hard crust of my pain
and wonder how i got to be this way
a homeless drifter on an elite highway
exhaling cigarrette smoke like a chimney
in the numbness of a freezing winter spell
selling a dozen crabby tales for a quarter
to bored yuppies aching for kicks
along the stiff terrain they must negotiate
to reach the peaks i scaled before i fell from grace
the whispering breeze tonight
is my lullaby as i struggle to sleep on my feet
and capture these rare moments of life in heat
on a day when a girl's smile is everything
and a stale slice of bread makes me a gourmet
dining on the rancid cast-aways of a third rate cafe
the twinkling stars tonight
are my peers as we help each other through the night
and a call-of-the wild song keeps playing in my heart;
it says classics are melodies woven in moments of adversity
and that i must continue to hog the fringes of society
and *****-nilly help salve the consciences of those who need someone
to throw the rich crumbs of their excesses at

your father was a gambler
and the story of his life
clung to the seat of his pants
and the holes on his knees
your next meal was always
just a deal away on some nights
his hand was rock steady
his steely gaze was cold and firm
and not even the unattired thighs
of a jezebel could distract him
after he had sniffed the money
so you flourished in a home
that was a blooming oxymoron
with a hard-faced survivor
of many knife duels for a father
and a mother with a lovely face
and a mardi gras queen smile
my fickle heart was rather coy
and my tongue was quiet and still
when i should have sung your praises
and extolled your awesome virtues
and your resplendent face in the dusk
faint heart trembles at the altar of her grace
but brave buck walks to his fate with zeal
so i kneel and i meditate your serenity
wrought by art alive in your hungry heart

from my little nook
in the pale shadows
of recalcitrant time
hawk-eyed i shall sit and watch
see you fall and rise
and be a silent witness again
to life being the sly master
in whose reticence we sink
as its lessons pass us by

she cared so little
and he cared so much
he loved her to distraction
though she wouldn't have cared less
were he to drown in a mirage

your every word was a gold nugget
and you made me feel so very rich
but that was when you were my brother

you spoke about strange things from afar
though you were always at home with the hens
but that was when you were my brother

you strummed your old guitar like a lost lover
and spoke about the sputnik, Russia and heaven
but that was when you were my brother

now the rot has set in and our wounds are festering
you tell me i'm not your mother's son
now that you're no longer the brother i adored

quivering joystick
mellow honeypot
perfect blend!

fantasies
exciting hues
life is kicking!

huge dreams
coupled creations
cream puff realization!

dimples and smiling eyes
pretty gums drooling
sunshine babies!

art on the clouds
mad shapes
psychedelia anew!

o the futility
wishes were horses
flight and dissipation!

the communes are here again
avant garde artists’ colonies too!
we produce but do not reproduce
everyone knows about the ******
and how it is a preview of heaven
the family is dead, long live the family!

the stony silence
is an offshoot of the violence
brewed in the madman’s dream
none shall speak ever again
he will be king
drunk on brandy and power
and only he will speak
they must listen in perpetuity
he is a latter-day monarch in a monocle
and severe coat tails and top hat
everyone is a servant servile and compliant
his will is to be done at all times and in all places
always he wakes up to a continental breakfast
and an academic on radio talking in RP
like an Oxford-educated pundit of anthropology
who has theories for everything
including the shape of his own nose
lo and behold!
The days of change are here
men shall whimper and die
women shall rise up and rule
from the bedroom to the boardroom
it’s a woman’s world, ultimately
and the tin *** king shall tuck his tail away
and kiss the hand of she who rules

once there was a corner shop somewhere here
and a toothless man who smiled from ear to ear
his hardened gums were a vibrant red colour
and his demeanor said he’d been there before,
seen all the wonderful new things in his dreams
and had a foretaste of what was now the present
from him we learned that dreams are a version
of reality tinged with foregone conclusions
today, organized chaos, tomorrow anarchy!
flowers and flower shops shall truly flourish
as we buy old fancies and dispense with surprises
in a brave new world where nothing ever matters
so let the flowers bloom and glisten in the sun
and in showers of rain and avalanches of ruin
as the edifices of conceited man tumble and crash
perhaps we might then glow softly like the petals
of new species of flowers telling the world a word
or two about duplication and replication in time

spasms of unbearable pleasure
course through me like a treasure
spawned upon a bohemian island
when i behold you, beauty incarnate
you're the epitome of accomplishment
an apotheosis of the woman of the age
your eyes are a velvety soft hue
your chin is a stroke of aesthetic genius
you have a fine finish like prettiest silk
and you're an open book of life, to read
at leisure 'neath a flamboyant tree in bloom
woman let me serenade you with this poem
let me sing of the passion in your eyes
let me wax lyrical about your coy mouth
lead me to a tropical hideaway
then banish all things negative , and
let me be your obsession through life
as we stroll together towards the rising sun

her contours are what everyone yearns for
perfect and full with inimitable symmetry
she's the prize at the end of our flights of fancy
when deprivation is erased and forgotten

that walk is pure physical bliss that kills the blues
and stirs long-forgotten desires and  emotions
she rolls around as only she knows how to
and her rich bust bounces and dances happily

these are the things that we have always imagined
an aesthetic figure moulded in heaven amid music
from the depths of our deep and unihibited longing
to be held close and cherished in tender moments

woman, the ground you walk on is awed by it all
it sighs so softly you never detect its abandon
lady, your attributes are the things that define you
especially that beauty from life's bouquet of surprises

aaah, the pain of the absence
and the futility of the longing
how these two start to linger
and grow bitterer and longer
as relentless time trudges on
to the inevitable conclusion
that everything is a shadow
slippery and elusive to the end
these things were never meant to be
except just as impressions
of sweet possibilities
and shaky memories
of things we think we did

infatuation
ravages my gullible heart
as i am entrapped by the words
of a mouth full of artifice

dancer that you were, you embraced the breeze
and rode its draughts like a lyrical butterfly
but soon your little dance too was done
and your dazed children wailed in the ill wind.
you succumbed to the unknown call of the cosmic bound,
thus lost and stunned we stared at the unfathomable void:
as the erudite sage said, life is about gains and losses
but your going was like a sneaky blow below the belt
now that you're gone i've come to know the bitter loss
of a gifted life nipped in the bud before fruition time
and just how bewildering possibilities erased can be
i know too the cost of it all on torn and tattered mourners
but life does proceed in this way sometimes