A moment of peace
in between the battles.
Of my heart and mind.

Is as common as a
four leaf clover.
A rare occasion.
A holiday for my heart.

To forget the war it's losing.

RINGS of iron gray smoke; a woman's steel face ... looking ... looking.
Funnels of an ocean liner negotiating a fog night; pouring a taffy mass down the wind; layers of soot on the top deck; a taffrail ... and a woman's steel face ... looking ... looking.
Cliffs challenge ******; sudden arcs form on a gull's wing in the storm's vortex; miles of white horses plow through a stony beach; stars, clear sky, and everywhere free climbers calling; and a woman's steel face ... looking ... looking ...

How do I get through to you.
and explain to you,
when you speak Martian
and I speak Venusian?
It's so difficult for me to transliterate
b/c there are no words that translate
directly.....
At least not effectively...
Lest we resort to sign language
and middle fingers never make anything better.

So what do we do?
...Nothing.
Just sit around with an air of misunderstanding.
We missed the point
and we missed understanding...

And then you wonder why my eyes
are glassier than they should be...
and then you ridicule me..
but in Martian that means you don't comprehend
which in Venusian that doesn't translate right.

But, "I love you", does.
And, "I need you", does...
Why don't you just say that?

There is a sound in a house when it’s occupants have left for the day and it isn’t silence.
It’s more of a dull collective hum of electrical appliances enjoying the chance to indulge their expression without the need to shout over humans.
There is the echo of words whispered in soft tones and the violent ones exchanged in heated debate, also the screams and laughter and the bark of dogs.
There is the sound of unfolded washing, waiting patiently to be transitioned from unkempt mess to organised functionality in a drawer or cupboard.
Their sound before such a transformation is heavy and unlovable, but once the task of folding is completed, they fall silent, thankful to have reached their destiny this week before their new cycle of destruction of order begins.
Toys, where does one start with the sound of toys in the absence of playmates. Their sound is dependent on how loved they are and how much time they have left before they, like a wife after 20 years of marriage, are replaced by the upgraded model, the new and better version.
But it’s the breakfast things, the things left on the table, half eaten toast and a mauled boiled egg that have the most sound.
It’s the sound of a dwindling life force struggling against its fate to be recycled in the compost, like us.
That sound is a deafening silent scream of a resistance to endings, an inevitable journey back into nothing.

Lost in the magic of your voice
I want to forget the sorrows of this world
This is your magic
That it saves me from grief my beloved
This is the magic of your voice
I have to explore the beautiful world my beloved

You died, By Suicide
And I cried,
and cried and cried.
Inside, Part of me died
Cos you lied,
and lied and lied.
You’re gone, and I’m the one
To suffer on,
and on and on.
Why, Why? You had to lie?
Chose to die?
Oh why Oh why?
You knew, I loved you
So why you?
Why you? Why you?
I try to understand why
But I cry,
and cry and cry.
Heart break, a pain that makes
My soul ache,
and ache and ache.
You knew, what I’d go through
You had to!
**** you! **** you!
Sorry, but you hurt me
Needlessly,
badly, sadly.
Guilty and so angry
You left me
lonely, empty.
Someday, the hurt just may
Go away,
I pray and pray.
Love you, will always do
Forgive you?
That’s hard to do!

The rain falls,
Endlessly tumbling from frangible wisps of love.
Each droplet touches my bare skin with delicacy,
Pirouetting as they engulf the intricate curves of my naked figure.
I dance in the downpour,
Absorbing the joy as I watch the sorrow deliquesce.
It is beautiful.