They are bombing children
as their own
are hummed lullabies.
They are bombing children
as their own
are tucked into bed tonight.
They are bombing children
as their own are rocked to sleep.
They are bombing children
with rockets burying them
in rubble deep.

Today
I considered the crabapple tree
the slow swell of its buds;
the future birth of deep crimson leaves from each sprawling limb
I let grow wild,
refusing to clip and snip.
Even at my best imagined vision,
I could never sculpt it better
than its natural design.
Well, I lie.
Took the saw to a branch once
that came close to poking out my eye
by the washing line.
But the rest
I left
to stretch.
Its many arms reaching
to hold the sky
as I
behold it.
A simple tree,
is it nature's gift to me?

Saturday's sky a dessert for the eye,
Creamy clouds dolloped liberally,
fluffy and plump
floating silently
through rich azure
sprinkled
with hovering vs
of birds soaring high.  
To have wings is to be blessed,
why can't I?
Questions of a child
still rumble in my aging bones.
Though I'm kind of glad
to still have
echos of innocents
and hidden hope
that one day I may.

Friday
Raindrops fleck neon's flash
Friday night's here at last.
Used to mean freedom to me
cash in my wallet, friends to see.
I'm older and don't dig the city no more.
Got mouths to feed
I'm just above being poor, but
the streaks of rain
cause memories to soar
fresh aftershave city to explore,
though I wouldn't think twice
of hitting the clubs again,
I remember feeling free
when I was younger back then.
And I remember feeling lonely
too often,
sometimes my only friends
were at a bottles bottom.

Thursday's twilight
in the realm of dusk
somber battle lines
breaching horizon's outpost.
Wind blasts to advance
the march of night
daylight flees in silent disgrace.

It's in your eyes,
your smile,
the warmth you bring,
it's in your passion,
the lightness to your infectious laughter, the tenderness of your touch, the silence of your understanding, the toughess of your stance, the class of your character. It's in your parental devotion,
your generous nature,
your caring and self-sacrefice.
It's in your strength, in your dignity,
it's in your companionship,
it's in your being,
it surrounds you and flows through you without your knowing.
Its more than any one thing,
it's more than all combined.
It is you,
it is your love I can't cope without,
and I give you mine.
I love you G.
happy Valentine's xxxx

Woosie Tuesday
dreary blues day
head melted like a clock by Dali.
Willing time to quicken
but it's a
chained frantic junkyard dog: going nowhere beyond where it should.
Blustery Tuesday
frustratingly slow day
error ridden and awkwardly dragging sideways.
Been dotting t-s, crossing i-s
confused by afterthoughts
and should've saids.
Some days were made for beds

Monday's made for yawning,
watery eyes,
groggy headed morning,
takes two hours and some change
before I'm performing
somewhere close to normal.
I'm not fishing for pity,
but it's still dark when
I reach the city,
yet sometimes its
oh so pretty
when the sun paints it's colours
on you.

We are a zoo
there are many animals
housed within
some are protected
by our prison
some pace frantically
clawing for freedom
some are timid
and keep themselves hidden
sometimes they battle for dominance
sometimes they're peaceful sometimes they're driven to violence
sometimes they're docile
sometimes they're irrational
sometimes they take over
our wild animals are all
emotional.

I can't fix your hope
if its shattared or broke
Can't change where you've been,
where you're at
or where your going.
If you decide to be taken
by ocean or pavement
needles in the basement
or another definitive arrangement
I can't stop you,
though I hope you'll pull through
perceive a different view
find a strength within you.
Life's got more to give
but you've gotta
build your own  bridges
to reach where it is.
I can't do this for you,
but I'll be here if you need me too
even if it's just to shoot the breeze or to lean on

My eyes rested on you
nestled into your grey-blues
shimmering in evening light.
lips settled onto
the shifts of your mouth
berry ripe
to taste, lap and ****.
Bodies absorbed weight,
comfort in warmth,  
swell and fall
pulse and lush.
Feeling we belong.

Gather my colours,
my shapes,
my heat
blend them
and mend them
make them complete.
Discard what offends
whats left you can keep.
I trust in the kindness of you

Ain't saying it was a sign,
a definitive moment,
a blessing of bliss
or an ominous omen,
but just before we kissed
I noticed a full moon shining,
sound ceased
as if time was frozen.
And there's no other place
my thoughts chase
or my body's aching for.
Ain't stating planets aligned
bringing us to now,
a prophesy
or cast runestones
foresaw us somehow.

I ain't got no geise to violate
or solmn vows
to bestow upon a moment,
but if I was to believe in such,
I guess it would all make sense
for me and you
and to view this time as something that was meant to be.

pockets of puddles
between cobbles:
gaping mouths
ready to gobble,
tears dotting tissues
dripped sorrowful issues,
petals of rain in bloom
a thousand abandoned tombs,
spaces to reflect night,
mirrors warped by rippling light,
nets to capture minds.
Beneath my feet.

Weather-beaten
crippled by season after season
cast iron hearts are tough yet brittle prone to shattering and erosion
by lover after lover

I buried my cat tonight as my children slept.
I'll tell them in the morning,
hope their sadness doesn't carry into Christmas.
About ten years ago I burried his brother.
Not quite next to each other,
but close enough to count
for something I guess.
Cruel job collecting what was his, throwing them out,
cleaning where I found him.
Trying to stay calm.
Tonight I write because I can't afford a shrink.
Maybe that's why I always write.

Four o'clock
dusk is sinking
shadows eagerly waiting
to usurp the day
Winter's germinating
chilly roots burrowing
deep
to the bone
will children reap
the harvest of snow
will its pale smothering
conceal broken homes
as the bitterness
silently
grows  or
rekindle the warmth of hearts
that froze?

Slowly reading
allowing
       pronunciation
to roll,
tighten
and fold      
                    a whispering tongue
orripplelipspucker and smack stretching jaw       and morphing mouth,
  tongue to teeth,
placid cheek and fading
                             hushhhhhhhh.

You bet
there was **** frost on her breath
so coldly she told him to leave.
Just like that
he packed
his duffel bag,
fixed his hat.
Left and grabbed a bottle of Jack
and the first train.
Slowly he took a swig,
as it pulled away
better a leaving drunk on a train
than one that remains
bawling in the rain
after the tomorrows
flushing down the gutter drain.
He sank into the comfortable
locomotive sway
consulated their lust
wasn't deep enough to cause pain.
Smiling he toasted her all the best,
her and all the rest,
then he drifted away
wondering who would be next.

The clouds have gone
leaving stars, space
and a bitter chill.
I stand still
listening to the wind
picking its way through
trees' naked limbs.
My cat sleeps near me,
purring its engine,
close now to its end.
I could have been a better owner
to my feline friend.
I hope he pulls through,
but he's old and no longer can fight
with the other tom cats
who enter my garden at night.

Battle hardened hearts
***** battlements
to protect from future
emotional elements
and
bitter scares.
Because every love is a possible enemy
and every love is a possible knife twist.
Is it better to stay alone and numb
than allow room for more hurt to exist?
If a love should come
bringing liberty
to smash those cold walls
there will still be
noticiple relics in crumpled debris
cautions of what could be.
Don't fear them or let them mislead.
heed their history,
but set your heart free.

You don't miss the water untill the well runs dry,
sometimes I miss the well.

My beautiful sad song
melody knows my soul by now
must of sang it a thousand times
over a thousand miles
and endless trials.
The heaviness of verse sinks me deep
chorus holds me down,
but its air
I can't help but sing,
it knows when to play for me
somehow.

Engine oil buried deep as hate beneath my nails.
Won't scrub away
it remains like the mistakes I made.
Not always visible,
but I know it's there all the same.

Old tatt lines blasted as heart ache,
it's hard to follow the ink.
What it represented
now an obscure link
like faded love.
Though in a certain light
it don't look that bad,
or so I tell myself,
but mostly I try not to think.

Did the night
whisper your name?
Did I speak it
in a wish?
It hung here suddenly
almost a physical thing
delicately chiming echoes
elusively
pealing petal images
long after its bell had rung.
My heart listed
into its fading wave
before
its gentle ripple was lost
amid the sea
of a cruel cacophony.

Had better days,
but who wants to hear me complain?
My heart's not broken
and I'm not depressed,
but I'd better days all the same.

The kids have been good,
and my wife still loves me,
there was sunshine
between showers of rain.

Paid off the bills,
I'm physically well,
yet I'm feeling far from ok.
Want the end of today.

It only
takes the tiniest thing to
create a big difference.
An extra spoon of sugar
can make or break a cake.
A minute or two
to catch or miss a train.
A second or two
to turn a glance into a glare.
A centimeter up or down
a smile or a frown.
A word spoken or not
a question mark or a dot.
A thank you
a *******
a shrug
a hug
a coin in a collection cup
a 'how are you, honestly, what's up?'

Russet leaves bid me farewell
a crooked smile from an old silent friend,
'time to go. I'll never see you again.'
Laments a dirge breath of wind
guiding them to a definitive
end.

Waves receding into themselves
flaying no more at the shore
secrets once held discarded
like sheets kicked to a sandy floor

Amid the cracked shell shingle
and weaved seaweed mingles
left amber and driftwood sculptures.
Things long lost and dead to the world
are touch-rich in wonder and texture.

Can be hard to stare unflinching into the eyes of reality
coloured by harshness and badness riddled with tragedy.
Run by dictators and tyrants,
corrupted democracy,
religious fanatics,
blinded hypocrisy.
Innocent children washed up on beaches dying to be refugees
what's that teach us?
Fleeing the horrors of war, torture, starvation, killing and maiming.
Ordered by powerful faces on posters, the soulless have no shaming.
Shake our heads, "it's so terribly sad" express our empathetic views
before flicking on chatshows,
turn off the news.
Can be hard to grasp reality really
in our protective womb
harder to admit what happens closer to home, in the other room.
Violence, abuse, ****, neglect.
Smaller wars perhaps, but with the same truamatic effect.
These don't make the headlines or cover front pages
untill we end what's beside us we can't end the evil that rages.

Leaf lids fluttering
flirtatiously
leaf lips rustling,
uttering,
puckering under windy kisses. Gazing up through their stainglass limbs
a ****** of nature, but only in admiration, not in the strict meaning or sense.
No, not like that.
Some surrendered to the early flash of autumn colour.
Threw in their lot.
Disconnected.
Gentle deaths,
landing softly
be nothing left of them come spring.
Hope they died "the little death" making love to the wind in their own unique way.
Before humanity distroys them.
Little things, these leaves,
leaving the world and
a fool to wonder.

Sharpening sticks on stone
preparring for verbal
battles bombs
to be thrown
no cover when lovers
cross the line that was drawn
by a
tripwire slip of the tongue
never meant to be done
though often on the horizon of thought like the cusp of dawn..

War drum
the march
into no-mans-land
from which there's no return.
Forced to make a stand
tackle and defend
now the gauntlet's fallen.
To the jugular attack!
no retreat
no victors
only defeat.
Somethings you can't take back.
Sorry is the poor shield.
It's useless to yield
for the weapon
cuts deepest when wielded
by those we love fiercest.

You stop me dead in my tracks
like a roadside ghost
searching for phantoms cast
by the glow of your eye
when you said that you love me,
I'm expecting a lie to lurk
from the vulnerable part
I've tried to hide
cause I've heard it before
returned the word too
of four letters
more than once.
Insecurity set to pounce,
should I bale or sabotage this revelation your perfect mouth poured into my ear but you couldn't hear
the bleeding, seeping, weeping
echoes from yesteryear.
On another road
when my love was hurled back
killing something inside
leaving a ghost on the tracks.

When you Fall in love
no guessing how you'll land
never as planned
could strike it lucky
tick all the boxes like
noughts and crosses
impulsive as lips's
compulsive kisses
vows and promises,
but sometimes
you run dry of suprises.
It can wither and splinter
beyond reconciliation
through nobody's fault
despite careful consideration.
Perhaps you never land
when you fall in love
only when you fall out.

Picked a star's flicker
behind a thinly streched shroud
of cloud
not long did it linger
before rain came down
and washed poor incy star out.
Did it jingle
as it twinkled goodbye?
No,
just the wish of a fool
with nothing better to do
than look for one last celestial wink
as his clothes get soaked.

She asked,
"What are you thinking?"
But I was just being
while
staring at the ceiling.

Wouldn't let it go
so an old thought was recycled
about life and an icicle
unsure of the season
and if it knew the ozone was bleeding.
Should it be busy worrying
or thinking,
or carry on simple enjoying
being freezing?

She shook her head, "Honestly, is that the best you got
for me?"
I shrugged and went back to my ceiling
happy and content in the presence of her being

His shoulders wilted
like the petals of a weary cafe flower.

low as a fading iodine evening light.

Drained trying to understand
those last riverlets of kisses  
that douced his contours

parceled cushions of a lovers mouth
dripped lush droplets
of breath and promises.

The same mouth

that shuddered sorries

before
uttering goodbye
forever more.

A willowy passage greeted us
threading a trail through a light wood
high with pine and robust elm trunks.
Frens curled and licked
ankles and shins
leaving damp sheen on boots
carefully avoiding sprawling roots  
there as reminders
nature can reclaim the trail
if and when it chooses.
Husks of beach nuts
dark open stars long pilfered of their bounty
littered a strech of eight paces.
She pointed to movement in the undergrowth,
a flick of leaves and scurry of a squirrel.
Taking my hand for balance and warmth
I lead her through the silence
fearing to breathe in case a breath spoiled the tranquility

breeze mournfully whispering
to the leaves of light's defeat
to night's relentless march
trampling time
while hungry shadows of doubt
congregating over each line
the pencil scratches
Itching to rhyme.
But inspiration dwindles
as does the day's sky:
a ripped up inky sheet of night.
Failure to capture images of mind in my write.

Rubbed drying earth from my hands,  
swabbed my brow with my shirt tail.
Jeans stained with mud and plant juices,
the shovel rests without complaint on the lawn (It's use to me by now).
Though my back aches
and blistered hands shake,
despite being beat and done,
working out doors
under the intense sun,
crawling with insects
stinking of sweat,
I feel more satisfied
than when I sit
in a clean office
on a comfortable chair
with only a phone to lift.