between wind and water
between sand and sea
the ever changing
fails to stir this heavy heart
an iron anchor sinking
to just below the surface
not quite deep enough to disappear
with surface just in sight
with never a breath of air
these psychological leviathans
of all my hopes and fears
break my ship upon the rocks
and all hands lost despair
for my mind my captain
my unhappy soul floats
barely conscious and dehydrated
lips cracked and delirious
in limbo state the sole survivor
of the ever present temptest
named loneliness unforgiving

the days all seem to blend into one
long song of regaling minstrels of mixed temperament
and poets of a different tongue
all she can say to you as she shows you the door
is that she wishes you well
and hopes you enjoyed the ride
cause you know its the right thing to do
and she kisses your cheek
out into the night you shuffle
you wander the carnival of the city streets
and wonder at the creatures of night
who don't need a home to know who they were born to be
who don't need directions to know right from wrong

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
sets in like the worn heel
of favored running shoes
its bitter dregs taste sweet in comparison
to the taste of her eyes as she rejected the venture

its a fine gift
like a box of gold
like a treasure of the soul
but it is not real
it is not true
it is simply a feeling of comradeship
a heartfelt desire that things could be different

late afternoon sunlight
through the narrow window
falls on the burnished oak
bringing to life the the beloved scents
of childhood home
my parents library
of books spread through the house
and all that knowledge that once thought was so precious
has turned into a phone that dont ring

the passive shadow
retreats across the floor
as the day slips
my gaze rides the rays
out the window to
breathtaking panorama of sky
but after few moments
the skies silent awe evaporates
as day crowds back in

and i remember that i was once a footloose son
and once danced in the dust of a summer sun
with a girl wearing a rose printed dress
and all seemed so right and true that day
and it was
and it was

these are days in the length of my years
that i pause to ponder the small ripples
the slight thing that becomes a tidal wave
later in life
these days are long gone before they ever came
aint that just like her

asphyxiating by the hour
falling  in reverse
drowning in the waves

ticking clocks , counterclockwise
freezing by the second
waiting for your precious touch

before i fall into hands
of darkness unknown
( b.d.s.)

Stumbling and struggling
through an intellectual
upbringing
attending class but wasting
money
because a clear goal
is still escaping
a solid grasp.
I'm a binge student
and this is just another
relapse

There is no end to this madness
A world without a heart
This place that we're called humans
Yet humane we are
We're not

How can we let it happen
Our rulers play us games
A risk
A lie
A maybe if
To let our children blame

So stop the bombs and scrap the bullet
It's us that make them all
Instead lets work on feeding life
And curing all the poor

It's us that turn our backs away
Yet yearn for news in frenzy
See breaking news and nod our heads
I am a prole

It's crazy

They fly around and tell us
To work and love the rules
When war is near upon us
We follow
Who's the fools

Why can we not talk peace again
Unite the world as one
Religion forms
Yet money rules
Where has the love all gone

I only want a peaceful life
I only get one chance
Denounce the rich and share this love
It's time we took control


Let Syria
Have a chance

Tittle tattle tongues always awash in inquisition
Is it their once meek failings?
Or loves lost labour's that spurn them to seek entanglement in my life?
Hard it must be for them to assume and presume, never knowing yet thriving upon Septic thoughts.
They may see in me something I cannot?
Or see in you something they cannot have, or lost.
For what I see is not their folly or presumption.
It is my fantasy alone and if truth be known more languid in debauchery than they could ever picture or imagine.
For my solace in my words not their deeds.
Although one follows the other, it is not compulsory nor is it always desired.
For the thoughts of slow driving ******* of the spirit is mine alone.
My thought
My words
My imagery
Her responses
Are my imagination
I seldom see these interlopers or speak to them.
I ask not to be judged as a peer, nor accepted as an equal.
I mostly despise their counsel in any way
The saving grace is the inability to read my thoughts or know of my works.
In that I deny them a world of emotion and pleasure they are not worthy of.