Stayed on a late one
'till I hit the last stop
weary as a hound dog
in the cut eye of dawn,
watched the gutters overflowing
gunk blocked drains
gurgling watery remains
onto sidewalks
wishing bitter pills of thought
got swallowed by the rain.
Stumbling footfall
steps drip and drop
progress slow as an enfant's crawl
aware of colours straining
to shed night's shroud.
Bed's as far away as yesterday
in some aphotic realm,
waiting to take this return
and bury it in the deep hole of sleep

I'm getting forgetful of late and keep losing things
Just the other day I lost something precious,
if anybody finds it
please you let me know.
I seem to have misplaced my trust.

Neons red in rain drops
bleeding down the window
a prayer for the ones
deserving more than they got.
Knew one,
a little buttercup,
parchment pale skin
and the bluest eyes
never caught a break
like a pigeon
with a low hanging
wing
on the ground it trails
left to peck in the gutters
with all the others
but the others
can always fly away.

Smudge of light
dim on pavement
made damp by drizzle.
Morning haze softening colours,
smoothing harshness
to pastels unobtrusive,
Extending the awakening dawn
void of witness to the rising sun.
Muted chorus of lark and blackbird
sensing the absence,
forlorn.

Walls too high,
too thick
can't dig under it.
doors cemented up,
I can't change that.
Standing outside
barefoot
on cold ground;
gravel's too rugged
to lay down,
shadows cast
a losing lot.
All I got's
a dwindling spark,
yet,
here I am
riveted to the spot.
Stand I or be cripled.
One of us will crumble,
but my will
will not.

When you be busy getting
to where you want to be going
don't be neglecting
the path you're now roaming
or before you know
it your now will be stolen,
other paths will go unknown,
other mysteries will never be shown,
other yous will never be grown.
And when you arrive you could be regretting
what's the good things you have now
when you get to where you be going.

She sleeps
I'm outside under the eaves sheltering little from the rain
smoking late into the a.m. wide awake,
coffee for company and her scent
clinging to my skin.
There's isolated bouts of traffic  
late night revellers
returning
shadows
there to witness between
lamplight neons,
but I'm cocooned away
restless in the washes of rain
thinking of one in slumber within
the walls on which I lean