Once upon a September night,
When breaths were taking flight,
To the upper parts of the atmosphere,
Where the fellow stars shine bright.

A soul was looming around a room,
Wishing the navy sky would turn blue,
Losing hope for a while there, 
Till a newborn sun came into view.

The soul then elbowed the eyes,
To take in this overwhelming sight,
Ray by ray the world awakened,
She'd then wait for dawn every night.

Sweat breaks and distraction ends,
The sun counting the time she's spent,
As orange pastels start to melt,
Soul watched sadly where she went.

And everyday the cycle was repeated,
A soul waits, watches as a day fleets,
Her sad sighs the only acquaintance
She's made with the moon beam.

After every sunset comes a phase
When soul and heart start to pace,
Whispering their heavy troubles,
To the dim moon's lonely face.

Acquaintances became stronger bonds,
As more blues started ranging on,
The night spread like a blanket,
The moon always had a soothing song.

Yet the soul remained captivated,
Sunrises and sunsets always awaited,
Till hellos are farewell were exchanged,
She spent the rest of the night sated.

She preferred a glow intense and warm,
Never grateful for the moon's arms,
A moon that forever stayed,
As the sun's always come and gone.

Hidden behind a treacherous day,
Never welcomed nor awaited,
No moon-rise nor moon-set,
Taken for granted cause he always stays.

Soul never knew the truth,
She'd diffuse all her sorrow to the moon,
He'd always shine never dimming,
Did the departing sun ever listen to you?


So why are we so mesmerized by the sun,
When the moon's always been the loyal one.

Use heart,spread light
Receive such,make right

Teach love,hold true
Help man,new view

Dream found,hate go
Prepare world ...high,low

Soon gather,rise fast
Believe,know..best -last

The rainbow sky
Melts into a river
Flowing endlessly
Into the white edges of dawn
When the boatman halts
The ship that ferries
Departed souls
As he stared beyond
His lifeless eyes
Oblivious of the void
Sensing a strange figure
Walking on the hazy shore
With watchful eyes
Zooming into his world
He laughs then sings
As the irony slowly creeps
Outside the frame
Where one lives
And the other dies
In a lonely dream

Cut my tongues from the scriptures and on blank walls I'll draw pictures because in a room full of lonely there is only myself.

I read Romans and the Acts came before them,
talked with Ruth who knew all of the bad men,

So
In this land of Canaan I'll be slain then?
and what of Goliath?
Samson's got him in a headlock,
Delilah's going to give him a haircut
and the Baptist will read all a sermon.

A bit fanciful to suggest Beau Geste, but a young fräulein from Mannheim calls for the check
I think what the heck,
Geste
can stay  in.

it's a walk on the plateau and you know we all want too
some do
some try
some don't even bother
and I don't
want to know why.

Long divorced from love,
owned three guitars
and slept with nine women.
Remembers every song,
every poem,
scarcely recalls their faces;
lilt of their tongue
as sleep took hold of them-
not him.

Trigger finger over the snapshot
through each baulk and ****** of passion:
"this is the poem, this is the verse
I can lay down in print
and finally live again."

Night sky too full of uncertainty.
Cannot observe a desert scene
without a commentary
on each unanswered question.
She is dressed in sequins
but what for the spaces in between?
He cannot accept filler,
blank spaces that intercede
moments of ineffable beauty.

Maddening crowds emerge,
bright-eyed and stupid
to each early, pink noise morning.
He awakes, drugged to the eyeballs,
slow to movement; formulation of words.

Each night a battle of sobriety
as the sun does bleed
in the skyline before him.
Each night a generation dies,
subtle points of light
lost in the noise of the modern day.
Screams pointlessly, without need:
"don't forget me, don't forget me..."
would rather leave a scar

than no mark at all.
Lives for the colours
he cannot see, for the common thread
that connects everything.
Tweaks the string of each broken seam

to expose each diversity,
each personal loss
as a collective sigh;
every sleepless night
as an off-white lullaby.
Born for collision
beneath a dying star,
long divorced from love;
he is married to art.