turn your gaze to power
of life and death:
they lie dormant,
seeded potentialities;

a flowers' expectantcy
in each quiescent tongue
and those who love either
will surely sup of their fruit*




●○
•

here on my knees
surrounded again
by familiar emptiness

and here You are
facing me square
amid my barrenness

all I have had, now have
and all I'll ever have
is You and You alone

where else can I turn
what else can I say,
'show me what's next'*


●○
°

just because you're a pro and
cope and turn it all around
doesn't make it less difficult, 
definitely not any less lonely

when the sun plays hide and seek
solar panels are less appealing
when this moonlit night's cloudy
night time jaunts seem less romantic

could they have been sarcastic
when they said all's fair in love
and winning war is fantastic
while keeping peace makes us starve

one day silent pens get justice; though
the voice that's heard is loudest
but each strain of a balladeer's refrain
are the words that make us honest*




●○
°

could represent an attempt
at presenting a lack of stimulus,  
either way, or at least
that's what can be surmised;

l i k e    s t r e  t c h i n g    o u t

an already blank existence,  
wall upon wall upon wall,
exacerbating this ocean swell
of emptiness that's bursting inside.*


●○
°

courtliness promenades
intimate exchanges
crystal refractions

burst in a myriad
of coloured light
music to one's toes

jazzy fingers and
ballet chin, poised:
poetical interludes*




●○
°

shape shifting furniture
carouses with crisping
wallpaper, peeling away
as it  turns a shade of jade

its deafening roar of tussle
echoes in this hollowing
out of a cranial chamber

while across misty chasm
a light beams steadily, from
that gap under your door

surely disintegrating, the
now useless horse blinkers
that kept this ageing eye
on a once consuming goal*




●○
•

empty bottle filled
sun-dapple prisms through glass
light as air to breathe*




.

everyone's got their reasons
even those that say they don't
everyone's got their seasons
whether they live it or won't

our ears are designed to hear
and lips were made to kiss
the batting of your lashes
turns stony hearts to bliss

for a time and half a time
this pen will cease to scribble
until reasons find their clime
then again resume its ripple*



_ _ __✒
●○
°

'love?' you say,
have a canapé
vulnerability
opens up our
jugular, to so

much hurt, to pain
be crushed and dashed
and maimed
destroyed with
utter disdain

we are contrarily
brought up
to be strong
independent
no one's fool

always look out
for number one
be proud, stand tall
headstrong, but
in pride, we fall

in that simple way
on any given day--
we are flawed lovers;
'love,' you say? here's
another canapé*




●○
°

● you'd think we could
just cut and paste away
to change things around

deleting ● what's ● not
then inserting what's hot
and she'll be all right●nah!

we can't flick the channels
or download a ● new ● app
for life, hard as we might try*




●○
•

painting the net
with effrontery
crude, insolent
•••brazenness•••
and to what effect?

marionette making
puppets on a string
unshelled hermits
***** all riled up
quite entertaining--

so's the jerking knee
set your reflex free;
someone's therapy
should never, ever be
your online misery*




●○
°

painting the net
with effrontery
crude, insolent
•••brazenness•••
and to what effect?

marionette making
puppets on a string
unshelled hermits
***** all riled up
quite entertaining--

so's the jerking knee
set your reflex free;
someone's therapy
should never, ever be
your online misery*




●○
°

take a stab
although it's dark
punch and jab
don't miss ye'r mark

tomorrow's fab
don't mind my back
pick up this tab
then hit the sack

'stab's on you
that last pint too

thou hast waxed sarcastic
to mock and disrespect the
misfortunes of another's need
whether male or female
of varied colour and creed

why dost thou behave unseemly
become as a clanging cymbal
blustering as sounding brass?
kindle again, first love's flame
before it's too late, unsweet charity

even after season upon season
of changing jobs and habitations
in different states and even nations

we can look at objects that trigger
a sense of connective familiarity;
but on any other given day they're

just stuff, things that fill our lives;
for instance that bottle of clairol
or bar of dove, that tube of colgate

exact same products at granny's house;
shapes, smells, and sounds surround us,
a nest, perfectly built: dry, warm & sturdy*




●○
•

Would you know my gait
if merely my words parade,
while everything else lay hid?

Perhaps, should you have shared
in my thought and conversation;
maybe your soul would recall-

once, some time ago, I know
we rode our waves back to shore.*



_ _ __✒
●○
•

amusing exchanges;
remind me to tell
you about it later!

it has been said that poetry
is the straight and narrow road
to a woman's heart of hearts;

        but alas, for me

              it has been the escape pod
from that woman who once,
but no longer, has regard for me*





_ _ __✒
●○
°

The reason for my articulation
is simple and utilitarian-
not to seek perfection,
but to seek ablution.

Perfection is reserved for those
with time to spend and money to burn.
My soul requires much more than these,
its ransom necessitates release:

Expiated expeditiously, in a flurry
of words that scathe my every thought.*




●○
°

people these days
are our solitary
point of reference

unless we're old enough
to recall 'back in the day'
to compare smoke signals

with mobile signals; well
most of us can't even
speak or 'read' Morse.*



_ _ __✒
●○
•

unapologetical apologetics:
what is denounced vocally and
many rave as condemnatory
is actually deep conviction being

militantly denied from an
internal admission of culpability
--external bluster of one in grave
delusionally grand denial*




●○
•

inkblot butterflies
frolic and chase each other
therapist's couch melts*




_ _ __✒
●○
°

one moment of life
exquisite pleasure
droned and drugged-up
then, it's on with
sustaining their future....

once her she-spider
majesty is widowed
many, many times over,
a cyclical dance in which
you're out of the picture*




_ _ __✒
●○
°

peering out this excuse of a window
a crack, really, into a view less spectacular
barely catching self from tripping over
in this bed-sized atrocity of a room
that costs heaps more than an arm & a leg

oh, and don't venture out that door, today
that job you landed wasn't your first choice
and coffee tastes like something died in it
no, don't step into the street ever again
not for a second rate-life-- scraps for mains

take another look and refocus your lens;
hey, the smoke isn't that big, after all*



_ _ __✒
●○
•

hard as we try to remember
grinding up mindless banter

green grass, yellow slander

what good is hay to a dead horse,
or a spring dried at its source?*




_ _ __✒
●○
°

Farewell, days of summer
your sweat stains remain;
and those fading tan lines

blend into a chalk-like frame.
Let's point to autumn leaves
to hide paleness, underneath

folds of warm, cloistering sleeves.
Maybe our winter's hibernation
shall blossom into sparkly spring.*



_ _ __✒
●○
°

on a rock, reptilian sunbather
lays in wait,  sharpening claws

buried under volumes of texts,
a voice drowned in rising gale;

unless they come looking --
you are unlikely to be found*




_ _ __✒
●○
°

everyone's got their reasons
even those that say they don't
everyone's got their seasons
whether they live it or won't

our ears are designed to hear
and lips were made to kiss
the batting of your lashes
turns stony hearts to bliss

for a time and half a time
this pen will cease its scribble
until reasons find its chime
then again resume its ripple*



_ _ __✒
●○
°

Feet throb, pulsing thru well-worn shoes; 
after a brisk walk to central station,
we keep our ears plugged with our beats 
to finally find seated, at furtherest point; 

Backs of heads, napes, and collars 
mushroom away; stare blankly ahead - 
polarised sunnies paint them bright; 
choked only by an assumption of gain.

And all that's seen is a tiny reflection of self;
here in our world another day begins: 
a mourning of suited, tired paramours;
in this bustling cosmos of peopled isolation.*



_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

you'll suffer anything for it,
suffer everything because of it

Called a pain in the neck .
        always in the way
deaf in the ear
stubborn and strong willed--

It's time they realised
that's the way it's always been
and that's the way it'll always be!
          you call the shots
you were born breech

in the aftermath
silence echoes
rising above our mushroom cloud

after all's been said and done
there is no more of you
now, than there is of me*




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

whenever you feel all alone,
remember this simple truth:
we're really all alone, together*...


●○
°

makes you wanna disappear;
in many ways it's made clear,
others are lower than dirt to you;
silences are cold and not a few*



●○
°

it's hard to hear yourself thinking
when hate on hate is all around
there's a cry for freedom ringing
its price: to keep another bound

our goals require such liberties
which defy our mental capacities
we hope it's worth all the drama;
our vengeful acts stripped of karma*


●○
°

Less than a bell's ****** 
fainter than a whistle 
stars in the sky twinkle; 
your breath a hushed whisper. 

O the tiniest sparkle 
dapple on glassy water 
far from distant heckles, 
my soul freed from shackles.*




_ _ __✒
○●
°

'silver tongue,' you say
frightful compliment which
births performance anxiety
rather than a mere swelling
of a bloated head

today though; this very moment

this tongue's gut-stung
by a full vial of anaesthetic;
come back tomorrow,
perhaps then, we shall
see a much better show*



●○
°

What you might not see
your heart will know
it was never wasted --

your investment in
time or affection,
tears and concern

meals you've cooked
candles you've burned
advices, however stern

we have come this far
'coz when we needed it--
always, you were there;

for your love and constant prayers
and that strong will: "never say never"--
we are ever thankful, forever and ever*


●○
°