Alphabet soup

I could never tell their order, for they all came out so fast
All the letters in the alphabet, all came with a blast
Words I did not recognise, words I did not choose
All of the letters they kept scrambling
All of them amused.

I see them all before me,
A vast ocean full of glee.
Words becoming sentences
Grammatically painting pictures
For one and all to see.

I see pictures from the present
I see pictures from the past
I see pictures in natures many guises
Some of them cast to last

I read of the mystical meandering, that comes from within Pandora’s Box
I read of the mythical dimensions, of Devinci his ruse that seekers seek to unlock
I read of the magical new beginnings, in nature as seasons produce its flocks
I read of the wonders of the universe, bequeathed by scientists since time started the ticking of its clock

All the wonderful letters bequeathed to those that note,
All the wonders of the mind, its senses from which the stories float.
All these special visions’ artists choose to collate,
All these special pictures writers choose to paint.

(c) 12.14

Received a post today,
Requesting me to share,
Promoting death, not harmony,
My heart it just stood still and stared.

It said for me to support,
A gun law in the states,
I retaliated with a question,
Are not enough good men already in crates?

I wrote a simple message,
Reasoning with its point,
Said that I preferred a paper and words
As a guns mean, leaves the world
In constant anarchy and disjoint

I questioned the second amendment
I based my view on peace
For surly once a trigger is pulled
Then all facets of war are released

I hear the hollow screams of,
Guns are for our protection.
I hear those words loud and clear,
But still I continue to question.

For without the guns as threats
Then people can be encouraged to talk.
Articulate words can then be spoken
From which bright futures can sought.

© Robert Kingston 21.3.15

loneliness.
what is it?
for me, it's pacing up and down
in the middle of a road barefoot
staring up at that stars,
knowing that inside the house
my two best friends are making love
to each other,
wondering why that can't be me too.
instead i walk along this broken asphalt
and it's 1 am
and i'm staring at those tiny lights
feeling so far away and empty.
missing you, but knowing
that i probably lost us.
i'm sorry.