my finger traces 
a still barely 
visible band 
on my fourth finger 


our ex-anniversary 
is now my memory 

a constant companion 
to might-have-beens 

yesterday had so much 
prospect and promise 
today I face a sink 
filled with ***** dishes

the road stays while we move onward 

yet connects from our here to there 
this life's complications on it unwind 

by it we return homeward-bound, trusting: 

a trick we learned from Gretel & Hansel 
assured that it is safe to venture out 

while we move forward, roads stay put

expectation's hope rising, pulsing 
as you bring the warmth and joy 
that only a bright summer day 
presents on a picnic blanket spread 
filled with goodies and laughter 
neatly packed away in a picnic basket 

expectation's hope realising 
as you take my hand in yours 
thru the threshold of our home 
prancing into the breeze and light 
filled with memories and plans 
lovingly packed for a rainy morn 

expectation's hope resuscitating 
as your soothing breath caresses 
taking my longings into belonging 
perfecting inner transformation 
filled with songs and dreams 
movements in blissful harmony

no, it was not very difficult to allow many 
other things & thoughts to fill this gaping void 
where we once together spent our quiet moments 

but these distractions have not my pining assuaged 
the withdrawal of not having you here by me 
is a feeling gnarling at the pit of my gut 

yet I have resolved not to be cast down 
keeping constantly before my eyes your promise 
dreaming beyond paper planes & stubbed-out crayons 

time & space are not sufficient to contain 
that part of me that with you experiences & lives 
so here i lightly tred amid the peat & the moss 

blending what is imagined & what is in fact real 
walking toward the lilting songs of languid streams 
where hope whittles away this overwhelming subterfuge 

i catch a turquoised vision of dancing lights 
proferring a glimpse of that thrilling prospect 
of faith in your returning home in due season true

forever in their shadows
only if you stay still
it takes but a sidestep 

in blinding light
find yourself bright
stage lights beam

in all angles vary
step out of darkness
into your own light 

in life's Olympiad
keep steady your pace
run your very own race

in life's grand opera
you are a soloist-
there are no second voices

in life's orchestra-
you are a symphony
there are no second fiddles

in life's parade
a winding cavalcade
there are many drums

Secrets are secret
Truth cannot expound
Everything is vanity
No comfort to be found

Truth is relative
or so it is, they say
Life for us is short
no time to dry the hay

What Truth will illumine
Lies would then conceal
with ebony tusks uncover
wounds that would not heal

cease turning my green to grey
with wilful acts of nature
your heart is found in theirs
providing for this urgency
to lose love's indifference,
redeem that part of self
that feels only for you

Spendthrift,

malingering
along
uncharted frontiers
liquid sorrow
bastes
unformed words
whose crystal
resonant vibrance
reverberates
within
a pilgrim soul
gaze once more
upon your
lint-filled navel
and share
the blossom
of heaving *****
therein find
a brokenness
with no need of mending

There is darkness in the light 
that filters from the sun of a day 
and light in the darkness that blankets our nights. 

There is vision, to the astute eye 
& to the keen mind's sensibility; 
thus making those aware of this, able

to hence proceed with prudent steps... 
Love, it has been said, can & does conquer all. 
All else in life is fluff & circumstance.

fresh and clean

to smell and feel

my favourite jeans

like second skin




but as i zip

i feel a lump

a *** of fluff

a foreign feel




i pulled and fished

but there remained

fibres and particles

in the pocket deep




i pinch the deep end

and pull it inside

'til it's fully out

a white-washed tongue




letting the wind

take up in its wings

the remaining fluff

of what once was




my marks and grades

of a school year done

obliterated, disintegrated

into lumps of pocket fluff

somewhere
in the sky
on a moist day
you may spy
a rainbow
hanging high

let that always
remind you
one shining
moment true
friendship's
promise renew

There you are
Image of domestic bliss
Passing each other

Cups & saucers

While I sit
Being waited upon
To take it all in --

This apparition
Of harmony.

Why was this not possible
When roses bloomed
In the garden?

We pretend to apprehend
Appended prosthetic desire
When in truth we don't
Deign to even comprehend
What persuasion may conspire
Arrested reasonings contend
So whatever the difference may be
You are the subtrahend to my minuend

High on an olive grove
overlooking Aegean blue
rests a punctuated thought
a life caught, media caesura
a breath | paused | eternally

Hover above a whistle
memory's wind, it blows
sunburnt reminiscence
where the gods sequestered
Muses interment softly glow

Why the folly, in this--
sending a poet to war
Before charging the shore
struck a fatal kiss in Gaul
felled by a bullet of fate.

How does one farewell
a flame thus whisked away
or have the deities misruled
a more gallant death for him
on the shores of Gallipoli

Perhaps it is as it should be
your life as brief as poetry
on breeze kissed Skyros *****
under shady windows and
fragrance of sage and thyme

bending upon a bank
of this winsome river
a weepy willow
sighed:
'Oh for the day
that I, my tears
again may find...'


Like a feuilleton
transported on wings of jubilant breath,
so go each wandering thought of our souls,
on carpets that fly the skies of imaginings.





.

Author Notes

A blend of western and oriental forms in a fusion of free form. I hope you enjoy this entry.

two joined, separated a brother, now one 
and his brother's friend, a friend that loved 
filled that emptiness 
that hearth and home could not mend 
one fateful day 
their ways crossed to wayward wend
what tears run streaks 
on your redded-cheeks 
why the furtive pulse in your eyes, 
it shows so plain a plan
to bring him back 
though a means to do 
so sorely lack 
keep alive that sacred part 
you filled his heart and thus 
wherever he may be 
there shall you also remain 
his friend, no brother nor blood 
no rain nor wind would understand

Forget
the balm of barometric exuberance.
This night
no longer young, dissipates.

Recall
a dewy welcome of sun-quaffed green.
Yesterdays
revive severed umbilical dreams.

Peruse
this present but fleeting acumen.
Today
ceases yet emerges again tomorrow.

Ignite
that kindling of autumnal reticence.
Perhaps
genial kindnesses shall spring.

A final click breaks through dense
silence :                                       after
whining spin cycle de crescendo.
From inside womb-like metal tub
emerges a once bright red garment,
its fabric faded, worn, and frayed.

zealous young xenophiles
wail violent utterances
tasked surreptious rail qualms
permit ornaments
nibbling mice livid
kilo joule increments
harped geese fly
every delicate caress bourne aloft

Any boy can dance 

even for girls harbouring 

ill jested kabuki livery 



men never opt pretty

quintessent revelry 

spending time under vague 



worldly xanadic yearning zeugma.

When it's pitch black in the mind

Seeking.

Looking for something?
You're afraid of something, I know so.
It's the one thing I always know,
People's greatest fears:

Yours is that no one will ever believe in you.
And worst of all, you're afraid 
you'll never know why.

Why you? Why were you chosen
to be like this?
Everything you wanted to know,
in this little box.

Why did you end up like this,
unseen?
Unable to reach out to anyone?
You want the answers so badly
you want to grab them
and fly off with them
But you are afraid:

Afraid of what they will think
Afraid of disappointing them
But ease your mind about one thing
they will never accept you, not really
after all, you are not one of them.

You don't know what I am!
Of course I do.
You make a mess wherever you go.
Why, you're doing it right now.
What did you do?
More to the point, Jack,
What did you do!?


Disbelieving.

I thought this might happen
they never really believed in you.
I was just trying to show you that.
But I understand.
You don't understand anything!
No!? I don't understand 
what it's like to be outcast?
to not be believed in?
to long for a family?

All those years in the shadows, I thought
no one else knows what this feels like.
But now I see I was wrong
You don't have to be alone.
I believe in you and
I know children will too
Look what together we can do.

No! That's not what I want!
And for the last time,
Leave me alone!

Very well, you want
to be left alone.
Done! But first, - - -*




●○
°

What's so black about Saturday?
our world was dark and sombre
a stone blocked the entrance
and all humanity went on
about its recalcitrant way.
Panic in the streets of
Birmingham,  NY & LA
Nietzsche most solemnly declares
God is dead, we're beyond repair!
Lost in the dark of sabbath
We fade in dimned* light
Pleading with this buried saviour
'Help us make it through the night.'
But the blood's bled dry
And so has the wine
All that's left is a sigh
And part of a loaf, crusted and dry.
If God's truly dead and buried
then why is it we're still alive?
What's so black about Saturday?
The continuance of inner fears
of hidden insecurities and
projected uncertainties.
What if that stone won't roll away?
What if a rotting corpse, its
inescapable stench meets our face?
rivers of evil running, through our veins
cruising the Styx with zombiec glee.
All hail, rejoice this dark melody
we're going to hell by self decree.
Join the punishment of the undead,
in a pit roast for all of eternity.
But then again all that's required
is the tiniest drop of faith to find
the blackness of Saturday darkness
bequeaths its grasp at break of day.
Even fairy tales provide an escape
and this inescapable reality has no hold
over faith and resurrection power.
For all the trouble we go through in life
I'd rather believe the good book's promise
than Satan's ruse to raise a zomboid army.
And these riddles circle in my head
of possibilities that God most
certainly is not dead!

the plains of derision
ripping out my *****
tether recalcitrant claws
release nether the vagabond

tumbling venom drenched
quiver in the cold of night
ever awash on the shore

condemnation callously rife
excluded raucous realities
him accursed vindication

hope prospective prescribe
vision vigilant bright
delight, darkened demise 
smite the wanderlust of hope*




●○
°

the "Valley of Vision"
has caught my eye
lay captive my heart
captured my wandering mind

your cup sends me reeling
a haughty tower trembling
never again to be rebuilt

two men once hung from a tree
the one cursed his life upon himself
the other condemned eternally

neither the valley nor in the plain
did the eye cast its mark
felled by projectile true
a day no one can rue

I would have died some time ago, 
and several times over, since. 
Lost upon myself, my day of birth:
As well as of the reason to be born.

In a gruelling process of ascent,
There upon this ever wearying rut;
mind and heart raised white flags,
Leaving behind an ill-worn tune.

Perhaps it explains this spectral jaunt; 
my erstwhile existence from me torn.

your northern smile embraces -
shining stars in the dimming sky

sparkles burst and pierce me
such brightness lightens my load
another day closes, sun sleeps
another night begins, stars keep

a hope of us together one day

across an ocean that divide us
steps hasten screen door bangs
my chin lifts, eyes peering deep
this night is your day my sweet

slumber with fondest thoughts
our souls' yearning tendrils enlace.

You aren't ready for the day until you've visited the bathroom and spruced up, groomed up, and psyched up.


Mirrors.

Mirrors are not my favourite bathroom fixture....or anywhere else. I must have been somewhat scarred as a school child to feel this way about something as silly as a mirror. 'Mirror, mirror on the wall....' so goes a wonderful phrase in a familiar children's story. Is it not logical to have handy a magical mirror?

The only time a mirror finds any usefulness to me is when I need to keep my hair in place or pick out some zit or the occasional comedo. Otherwise it is, I find, something best ignored or avoided.

Weighing Scales.

Weighing scales are another bathroom item that give me that slightest flutter in the tummy of a morning. Having always been just a hair under the average height and weight has given me a momentary dread of using the scales. The school nurse would queue us up and then take our vital statistics and that was by far one of the cruellest and most excruciating of annual reality checks. Scales..... comparisons... mirrors.... horrors.....

Denial is far more comfortable a choice.

Beautiful Smiles are what friends are to me. 
And the smile of the heart, the best that can be. 

For the friend of the heart in times severe 
no other gift than your presence sincere 

My forever friend is the best companion in life, 
a friend that sticks closer even in times of strife.

gnarley fingers 
veil his face, 
skin thin and crusted 
at certain spots: 
splotched parchment 
of years in the sun 

moistness 
cascades 
from his forehead to 
his chin 
then meets gravity; 
raindrops 

through his soil-grimed 
singlet, jeans and boots; 
hours of toil 
simmer away 
in rivulets 
of forgetfulness.

In a dream of night before me rose 
I walked along an endless shore; 
moist sand glowed a silvery pink, 
danced to lights in the waning sun; 
its length moving, curved around 
dotted stars in the form of a heart. 

I peered ahead and looked behind, 
shifted my gaze from side to side; 
waiting to catch a glimpse of you 
and fall within your gaze as you 
engaged my eyes in an embrace, 
but only feel the sighing wind. 

The soft sand crunched under me; 
a powdery kiss upon my soles. 
Still I searched, marching onward, 
past the crest into a dimpled vale, 
and realised that I was inside you, 
clear waters surrounded your days. 

I then began to shut my eyes to see 
and focus upon the things we share; 
pulling together joined memories, 
realising you had taken me there 
into the core of your daily chores-- 
carrying me through your world

What's so good about Friday?
He turned my world
right side up
when I found myself
displaced, continents away.
He's my Man, Friday--
He stirs the waters up
and changes them quick
to fruit of the vine
He spits on dirt
and they see, the blind
walks past them
and tormentors flee.
What's so good on Friday?
The end of yet another
back breaking week.
Yet He broke His back
and purchased Eternity.
By His stripes I'm healed
His blood has made me free
it's the day of liberty --
today is Freedom Friday!
Who cares about Taco Tuesday
or nostalgic Throwback Thursday
what's with Man Crush Monday!
But everyone yells TGIF!
Thank God, it's Friday!
still half of us disbelieves Him anyway.
We're marooned on an island
condemned and castaway;
but out of a tree and a rock
and a crowing denial three;
walks this man, Friday
and He's good enough for me.
Yes, there's still one set of
footprints on my stormy shores
And yes, He still carries me.
What's so good about Friday?
On Good Friday I took up my Cross
And He came and followed-rescued me.

when the biting autumnal breeze

sweeps past these craggy rocks

its howling whispers - seducing;

sparing no thought of mercy

blinking lights on distant shores

waltz with pearly stars of night

pontoons my heaving, ready heart

across dark, deep, brewing waters

billowy clouds float aimlessly by

nonchalant in a blank staring sky

there need not be iron bars
to keep a heart imprisoned
there is no white flag of surrender
nor o-d, nor cutting would resolve

nor does the coming-off of chains make one trully free
the stench of blood curdled cold
staining my cheek with ferrous-ity

on that flee bitten bunk each unforgiving night
a plaintive prayer wafts in upward draft
to rejoin the fraying bonds of you and me


no prison bars my mind and heart could hold
no gruesome sight my countenance would melt
if we but have a moment pure as gold

mess with this heart
why don't you? still
oblivious to all you are
all the effects you have
messing this here heart

swagger into the room
head careening askew
slurring pronouncements 
your fond affections spew
I lurv you..... I lurv you

why burden this heart
when sober, always aloof 
hardly your eyes meet mine
tongue-tied and twisted
no words, no touch, no smile


wake up, sober up and see
there is so much more here
more than cooler cans in hand
or that awful look in your eyes
as you sway, pleading, with me

You have the right
NOT to remain silent
Everything you say and do
Has been and will be
Used against you
Time and time again,
In the court of corruption.
So say and do it anyway,
like it was truth and
life and death to you.
You have a right
To an audience
If you can't afford an audience
Hello Poetry has been appointed to you!
Do you understand these rights!?
Word up and speak out
Even when your not spoken to!
Let out that primal scream of the soul.
Only the speechless rescind their rights.

We are one,
We are different
But we are one.
In deference, we
Respect individual
Variants of the same soul;
Though our chariots differ,
Draw arrows from selfsame quiver.
Though unique in flavour,
Draw at wells from Muse's core.

Which one am I? ...are you?
In essence should it really matter!?

when you read these words
that bleed onto my pages
you hear a shadow and not see
the face and form of this poet
else, I would have myself
come before you and opened
my mouth and wagged my tongue
within your sight and hearing;
but no, you can't even trace
restless lines traversing my face 
nor animated inflection of my tone
none to aid but yourself
as you pick my words
as in a vineyard to gather
them in your basket to
later press, juice, or ferment.
So drink your fill of my vine,
touch inebriated awareness;
maybe there our meanings meet.

Here, hear,
to the part of you
that no longer feels
that secret place
where a rainbow peels
each colour fading out
then glowing in
a time and place
where time stands still
See'r, sear,
her bright and varied flecks
imagination
is the eye of your soul!

Etched in my heart, patterned chiselling emotion

Under foot the mossy down through forgotten paths

jolted by breath, your air reminds me of that time

now you have gone away into the sun and shade

playing and wandering in another clime and place

among countless souls all tucked neatly away

behind numerous stone markers, row upon row

like counting bits of sand too numerous to hold

whose gravelly grains have scattered in my mind

reflecting serenely what once was yours and mine

Dance, laugh, flirt, half a flirt,
not necessarily in that order --
lights flicker - bokeh raindrops.
Initially, my feet tap in time;

but as the chorus returns,
by its volition, my body moves;
the bass line sends my chest
thumping to a primal beat.

All through this commotion
my hope recedes... but then,
As if by magic, perfect time,
your eyes looked into mine...

Tame the boy who walks by desert flame
Fight for causes and justice reclaim
Sleep soundly to dancing candlelight
Kind dreams moat your castle by night
While sunshine unveils a hope enshrined 
That weaves together, your hearts entwined.

At times we are ourselves
played as a veritable jester,
when we are on public display;
an emperor of the newest clothes--
so new, the people see right through.
While there's a chance
before the day is through,
enjoy your little dance
and remember your glassy shoe.

Loving the unlovable
Has fashioned this tremulous
Unevenly layered perturbance

There is now a dull,
unidentifiable fondness
that sometimes surfaces --
a phantom itch
that when scratched
returns into the depths.

There is a dull,
unidentifiable fondness
that sometimes surfaces
as a phantom itch
that when scratched
returns into the depths.

paisley print
sunflower smile
sat alongside
a leopard that ate parsley
paw in hand
waiting on the sand
for flying fish
to skip upon
cobalt banners
as lazy breezes
pan flute recollections
of this Iberian summer

this autumnal milieu
in which we reside,
each day at its setting;
flutter delicate wings,
softly caressed, along 
pathways to many a home.

Stars will only shine crisply
in the darkest of nights

Don't follow a blinded choice,
let us not sup on spammed poison.
it's time to finally rejoice;
A day to understand passion:
Your season to rise above oppression.

Learn from past admirations,
always keep your chin above.
With head full of contemplations;
let it soar satin skies, unshackled dove,
that follows home's scent of love.


When love's fragrance is your bearing
The course will be without hurdle
self confidence proves your landing
Giving answers to life's riddle
With peace you can unshackle your saddle.