let me

sink

in
to

the

abyss

god how i loathe them

those beautiful
          dead
          insane
          female poets        you so Adore...


they touch you in places

i feel

i cannot reach


how i wish they would rise from the dead
                      
become ugly
               sane
               inane

im not sure if you want to **** them

or become them

both
i think

just be
you


dont
think about
who
that
is

mist rising in the valley

grey  g a u z e

pierced by dark green

I wanted to post you some autumn leaves

blood red
jewel like
littering my garden

enclosed in an envelope they withered
darkened to dull

the love that nearly sent them glows

dawn

no longer rescues

me and the full moon

mock

she spends her life painting

out her existance

on
fake
faces

oh infinity!

you sneaky *****


cold

as the stars


warm as the sun

why do i spend so much time

angsting over (willthisrhyme?)

am i fat?
or are am i thin?
do i have the right
wherein....  
                     where·in (hwâr-n, wâr-)
                     adv.
                     In what way; how: Wherein have we sinned?
                     conj.
                     1. In which location; where: the country wherein those people live.
                     2. During which.
                     3. In what way; how:



all such empty
prattling
DIN!!!!!



lovers
friends
family
we all
end in
the re cycle
bin

summer heat

sparse lawns

unhappy looking

flowers end

when we touch

it's like a death

all the possibilities

in the space between us

die

s e a f o g s h r o u d e d


                waves
frozen                  


                                te
                              a
                             l
                          d                          
misty           un
           hills

it will

come

as a bit of a shock

i know

but

out of your ****

the sun

does
not
glow


you

can labour

the
point

till i

get up and go

but

arguing

never

made anything

so.......

coils of memory

rolled
up

un
furl

in the dark

we've
      run
        through
                            all

our possibilities


         circle
come       full
        back


as much the same

                                                                        as differant


        s
          p  
        i
          r    
      a
          l
            s
   wiinth
    s
        p
     i
r
a
   l
      s

her
harsh
wounded
outbursts

masquerading as laughter

a lake of gold

pools

on the ground around

my golden elm tree

sunrise and sets

of gold who is

as rich

as lucky me

infinities eyesight

given to

the

hunch
back

the infirm

and

the
really
quite

                                  ­                                 insane

illusions shattered

mirror shards

scattered
rending

self
image

hard

your right up there
with the sunsets baby

full moon bright
and i dont mean maybe

hold me tight
.... ....   ....  ....  ....  .  


its just another friday night

everything looks washed

battered

hung out to dry

rain

falls

from a sour sky

i want to

whirl
like a dervish

dance
like a breeze

                         above            
              high      
levitate                        the trees    

sing
like
rapture

swim through the stars

show the WHOLE world

this
love
of
ours

in gold leaf litter
electric blue wrens

black birds sing
day
ends

constellations

frozen
yet
moving

under
you
i
am
crushed

your
fires
flare

i
see
them
not

you

whittled away so much of

me

to get

the shape you wanted

now cry

at the pieces

cast
down
on

the floor

you

got what you wanted not less but


“ more ”

trying to

hold onto

what

was never grasped

if you take ***
out of the equation

areourexchangese m p t yormeaninglesschatter?

or a commingling of ideas

energy sparks

we are
of the earth

but we are also of the heavens

moon
beams
drip
splashing
silver
splotches

on tree branch
bare

there sits

a bird

with song
as
sweet

as ever heard

you is not me

i tried to be we

we is not me

you saw

i not see

like children

wepush

each
others

boundaries

both
bruising


we remain

what could i do but run

that one poem

a cold wind blows
and golden elm
is shedding her summer dress
gold medallions lie in pots
the ground beneath her
soon a mess

red pulses
heartbeat
where have i been
you
in my veins surge
on re discovering
no hope
we lie
dying

Lead paned windows
beam shafts of coloured light
dust motes floating
spiral upwards
released from
captive carpets
flee

why is it
men cannot   see
that what   appears
to be    vanity      (in a woman)
is often
fear
because female looks
are so important
to the male
my dear
;o)

visions...
are they that?
or is it your brain
teaching you what it's learned
while you weren't looking

i didn't turn out
as you expected
characteristics
you detected
let down your dreams
of how "we'd" be
as is the same
for me
what will we do

peony rose
a tight pink fist
will open soon
to whatever
comes

in that room
you felt like
the whole world

the world removed
a childs world
idyllically drifting with the wind
sloughing off dreary earthbound millstones
free and rising with intense delight

i look at myself
and see
someone else
which one
is me

i don't want some media host
telling me what's what
and  “ do we approve of this opinion ”
and  “ do we approve of that ”
as if they have the right to question
everyone's opinions
to call it in as if it's wrong?
hold several vivisections
let's share our thoughts on media
on twitter tweet and 2 facedbook
then hopefully with this campaign
we'll all have the same look

Irony
love comes
this late
do i care

beautiful red in the sky this morning
reminds me of that shepherds warning
there was no red in the sky last night
so maybe the weather warnings right
there might be rain during today
oh wind please come drive it away
although the garden needs its boon
I'd rather clear skies so sun shine soon

ceilings are what we are
nothing more we kid ourselves
you know that despite what you write
which is to yourself anyway
altho you don't listen

oh to feel
the sun on my skin
so tired of this grey
I'm trapped within
no sunshine shadows
no blue in the sky
rain lashes the windows
I want to cry

she's putting the last of her juice
on the page

he's treating the world
as if it's his stage

both telling the other to
                                               go

act your age

their lives not a play
but a buried one page

unreality
such a part
of
reality
how can it be
unreal

computers gone bananas
it's driving me insane
the pages scrolling up and down
then down and up again

replying to the poems
is taking me an age
I click onto the comment box
go to another page....:o(

so if I'm seeming tardy
please do not take offence
it isn't that I'm snubbing you
comps down is my defence