Who are we to at folly jest
when folly is at our behest
seek we humour at anothers expense
whilst all the while we sit on a fence
grass being greener on some other side
now folly in us shall reside

When we view our world through a tear,
it becomes distorted, blurred
and imprisoned within itself,
yet we have only to stretch forth a hand,
to let it permeate the glass-like walls,
allowing us to glimpse beyond its boundaries,
the clear, pure waters that lay on the other side,
regaining our clarity of vision and releasing the soul,
if only for the briefest of moments.

The carers of clock tower.
Dark this morning.
Mornings lights switching on as work motions, the end of night.
Going into the city,
Spying twitching curtains, of forward moving city lights.
Smoke hangs grey in the cold air above the refinery.
An early photographer catches the lights in his lens.
Sadly, a dead fox curled up on the carriageway greeting eternal sleep.
Foxy for one escaped daily drudgery.
Greeted by overnight headlights.
He bade the world a perfect goodnight.
And so my daylight came.
From the night bus, I stepped into day.
From the kerbside my day was done, someone cleared the fox away, his  vulpine body was gone.
(c) Livvi

Time gone
Shadows before
Cast on the wall
Lost soul abort

Crushed sign
Eyes shut
Heart stops
So abrupt

Rain down
sad drops
Good bye
Cries stop

Separate the touch
distant is more
Left all alone
Empty little *****

Languishing in a car called desire,
reclining into another lustful thought,
drink the poison and do it clean
for in such things are religions made
or a nation crumbled into to dust