Somebody died today, a cop in spite of which he’d always been my friend.
But they all were then when hate wasn’t the password and
Niches didn’t outweigh the Lady with the scales.

Think that isn’t true?
I was there then, a lawyer and a prosecutor
And there was so much less to be ashamed of in how it was done…

My friend who died was there too and he did it right
Then taught others to do the same.
When he left, things changed.

People somehow became categories and the law forgot Justice
So, things got bitter and that spawned something worse;
We’re living though that worse stuff now and for those who were there
Then looks so much better than now.

He knew how to do it and he did it for as long as they gave him breath
Now he’s probably doing it still on another level someplace.

Hopefully, it will trickle down.

Safe journey home, captain.

I want to paint a picture with words
So you can see what I see.
Let you see all of the art work
That hides here inside me.
The darks and the lights that glisten
I want to share colors and shapes
And the music, so you can listen.
They make up my internal landscape.

My canvas is time, sight and sound
And the aromas of my world.
I want you to see the way the smoke
And all the clouds get curled.
The hills and the valleys have views
That make you want to be there.
The trees and the flowers delight;
All inside my memories somewhere.

The stories would keep you transfixed,
And the people, creatures of fascination
Would make you laugh or maybe cry
If you could only see my imagination.
I am using rhyme and meter to depict
As the artist in me articulates dismay
That these simple words must transmit
As I can only tell you about it this way.

At all times
We are loved
At all times
We are looking
Inside trying to
find the truth
At all times
We doubt
We wonder
Why we are here
At all times
We question
Ourselves
We wonder
Why things
Are the way
They are
At all times
We must
Remember
We are whole
We are loved
To make it
Through the day
You must
Remember
At all times
My friend so
You can make
It through the day
Never forget the
Lessons from your past
At all times
Never let go
Of who you are inside.

Do I know you?
Do I owe you?
We look at each other.
Not in the eyes, but in nothingness.
We are together bound, all year round.

Do I know you?
We look at each other.
Do I owe you?
He does not bother.
We look at each other.
Not in the eyes, but in shyness.
His wealth mutually consumed.
Poor us so greedy at our presence both.

And my addicted admiration,
since I love all subjects,
who are full of the honest knowledge of certain things,
mostly the own learned object,
that made their living
and together with that OUR living
in wealth and luxury,

this is not concerning materialism,
but another ISM like ego-ism.

Since I know wealth, richdom from kidhood constantly.
And his old-fashioned love to the brim,

we are together tied,
all the time a bit horrified, it’s not one-sided,
visa versa all years round bound

These last years, the Lord gave us greatest bless,
we look at each other, the greatest impulse, but our eyes  
unclothing languidly,
which is known less.

I can assure you,
not as mean as the rest of mankind,
but there’s a true kind

like in war’s strategy:
untrained soldiers sent to war
and before they know
no much sorrow of their sudden death
don’t you know how that felt?
Their death?

As if you’re bereaved,
and before you’ll know
you’ll get a wreath,
without much sorrow,
on your doormat

it isn’t that bad….

BUT the most important subject
of these all DO I….
is LOVE that matters, yes!

All these death soldiers
or untrained men on war-paths
had been loved by their wives and kids,
these looked like tiny-bits,

that’s bulsh-t,
but in reality, it’s a POST-IT!

Now all that matters here,
is only that I have ever loved you

I have known so many, but I still know
that YOU are the most loved by me

and still, I do....cherish you
that you must know….


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

In the early morning
sitting on our bench
a tiny willow warbler
comes around
very tame
hunting for food