lying here waiting to wake
may unconscious streams return me home
as a gentle flow succumbs to riverbank
meandering drift through memories of yore
aromas of sweetest royal fern consume
my days now passed for this night I long
to wrap me around a reed buntings song
so far from this storm of rattling gates
destined to tear through a fragile facade
reality she rides late on a January gale
entrapping my dreams in her deceitful fog
riverbank night heed a compassionate plea
o let sleep announce that I may finally wake

only when we sleep are we sometimes truly awake to the beauty and possibilities of living...

Profound jazz tones on the rocks
Dragged down gravel pathways
In crystal cut glasses
Harmonised sweet pain-felt blues in orange light
Smoke undulating, seductively dancing on top of piano notes of passion
With his words he brought down two stars
They found contentment in your eyes
And while the rest of the stars and the moon light up the night sky
Your starry eyes light my desire
And there’s nothing I can do about that

  Oct 2017 David Noonan

Angel wings of woe
Bejeweled haunted sky
Shades of grey graced lips
Hung between sorrows thrill

Hide your face my love
To fall between the shadows
Secrets lonely chance
Intentions downfall

Swept away blooms of never will
Pictures burnt in dawn's fury
To miss the kiss of sunlight
Galaxies of the tree tops

Heart's hush of colors noise
Worries content with midnight
Daylight dreams fall sleepless
Cautious ground below

David Noonan Oct 2017

I used to keep score of every teardrop that would flow
Until like some punch drunk boxer you couldn't give no more
Bells they sounded and to corners we returned
Red to red dirt ground, blues retreat to blossom in bloom
As our hazy Mondays blur through to vague Thursdays
What we had in November was lost come September

A galaxy of oceans separate my disappointment from my disappointment in you
Yet for a chance encounter on a lonely Friday night
Our shadows would dance bathed in the crystal moonlight
For magic it weaves through the diamonds of a roadside bar
Our senses unravelled by some mystical cabalistic charm
So why should we ever try to make sense of it all
Seconds out - round two, don't ever stop, don't ever fall

  Oct 2017 David Noonan
Liz Balise

Drinking before noon--
not my habit
In the quiet of my favorite room
of softest brown and purple ciphering gray
One wall off-white reflecting light
or a good mood
or something--
I once needed
from my soul's depth--
Trying to forget

Startled by a train's screech and howling wail--
its bell about an intersection
“Look the hell out, why don't ya!!”
--get outta your own...
my own way
and let the failures just stream by

There's this calendar by some bankers called:
adorns the wall
between my daughter's sketches
that I seldom see
on well-worn afternoons
among accustomed things

Yes-- "One here!"
to un-invest
in this day
I have no interest
in sunlight or the ceaseless
songs of birds
I forgot to turn  the pages on the months
Forever sunk in April
having given up on June
with its birthdays of the dead
missed events, appointments, bills come-due

Just a picture there-- the bottom of a tulip
stung in warmest pink
within the sepal hand of green
that holds it steady-- fucked
A year-- dangling from a nail

if that's allowed
--my dirty mind, I mean

Old one from this past summer.  Don't visit this place much-- certainly not for long-- but now and then....
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