Sits at the grand piano.
Listens to the music dancing in circles.
Jiggling and tinkling.
Twisting and whirling
Staccato.
Vibrato.
Fortissimo.
Picking up tunes.
Straight from the air
She's playing by ear again.
Music's feeding her soul.
(c)LIVVI MMXV

Where did she go this time
This seamstress of the rhyme
Did she just up and quit
Had enough of it
Decided to move on
Flipping the silver coin
That came up on heads
So that is why she left

Where did she up and go
This seamstress of the poem
Did she even bid farewell
Tell us all to go to...
Hello are you out there
I'm in my underwear
That may be T.M.I.
What I won't do for a rhyme

Why did she have to part
This seamstress of poetic art
Since the day she went away
Things round here ain't been the same
Sitting here wondering what is up
Cause I miss Deborah very much

Oh and the part about me in my underwear now burned into your mind
Any good Shrink could erase that given enough money and time

~~
..
When the Beauty I See
In the Land and the Sea
Even the Flowers to be
But not like She

When the Love I See
Within the Flower and Bee
Even in my Heart to be
But not like She

~~
..
@Musfiq us shaleheen

There are two of involved in this battle.
One of us just making war.
Two of us made love in summer.
Both of us just lived for spring.
Walking hand in hand together on beaches.
Beside streams.
Sadly it seems.
That the river's polluted.
The sea it froze.
The beach was covered in oil slicks and washed up dead birds.
Separately at differing places at different times, we stroll on the seashore.
We pick over the bones of those who are lost.
A figurative exercise.
Working out why we are at war.
Why we ever were.
Together in the first place.
Two lost souls walking through dark passages.
Seeking and finding.
Hunting as predators.
Wanting to eat love.
Swallow it.
So hungry.
Ate too many.
Far too many.
Breathing space.
Broken hearts.
Fractured faces.
Time repairs.
Wait and see.
Whatever will be will be.
(c)Livvi MMXV

Who I am is not this

not a still lake

jealous of the ocean
it’s expansiveness

freedom to roar and roll
gather momentum

wipe out coastal towns
if it gets the urge.


I am not this

a broken Brumby

fixed in a cowboy lasso
caught and corralled

in a vice for the spirit
craving chaos

not edges tucked in
like an over-zealous housewife.


Who i am is not this

a hero home from a war

of fighting the ordinary
wiping out villages

devoted to secure notions
only to find myself

a forgotten veteran
alone with our silence

in a cramped suburban living room
surrounded by mementos

a life once exciting
now just a string of photos.

that form a prison wall
like bad souvenirs

from a time too magical
to be reduced to just a fridge magnet.


I am this

a speeding car going off a cliff

squealing past others
who are still in love with their brakes

but terrified for me
as i ride off

into the unknown
a leap of faith.



The trick to courting danger
is the knowledge that I have secret wings.