do not dismay
the shadows are many
but the smallest spark
lights up the darkest night*



○●
○

There are far more people
that struggle in life, like me

than there are successful,
made and together, like you:

so please, uninvite me, yet again,
but let me be;
         without that dangling carrot,*    I   A M    F R E E .



○●
•

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, - - -*




●○
°

' 



as a child once, to a favoured toy,
countless hours of pristine joy;
but specifications of 'all growed-up' ploy,
memories of past pleasures, now destroy




_✒
●○
°

'

row upon row
queued up queries
poppering poplars

outstretched limbs

vigilant sentinels
ever watchful of
fickle firmament

Meanwhile

***** bursting
with plaintive
prayers, spy




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

Expatriated.... silence swallows whole,
enunciated expression:
Fists pummel at an empty sky.
A voiceless scream tears anaesthetised night.

Who needs gravitas,
what piety awards accolades;
why strike a solemn clarion
where dignity and virtue fail to roam,
when last breathe approaches?
How can we repatriate orphan, edulcerate elocution?

bleak and blistered
tundraic whispers howl
with deft tendrils of
liquid nitrogen, then
in a flurry of dust devils
this landscape's void of
voices once more

run now! Quick!
run, blindly ran
through the jungle
cut and punctured
in this abrasive

rain forest chainsaw
and that rain....
that driving rain
shall always be
whip cracking me

run to where?
ran to where
my soul stripped bare
washed of all iniquity
each droplet, jubilant

tiny screams of release
pelting at my guilt
mirroring my defeat
and the rain didn't mind
there was an axe to grind*







__✒

On powd'ry grains of sand
at genial island's narrow end,
        morning gently breaks:

casting stones at crested waves;
cheeks still moist, in briny breeze.*



●○
°

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*




●○
°

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

Deep within me
lay a poem of the sea
from a long while ago;

where air is fresh
but blusters wildly
when southerlies blow,

slick and slimy
mud between each toe-
mangrove's brackish home.

Whitecaps dance
in the open channel
close to where corals grow.

But further than fond distance
of childhood recollection,
where starfish-lined parades
demanded retrospection:

Gone are those carefree days
along with sands, white as snow;
somewhere deep within me
lay a coastal tale of long ago.

Not many a man
consider themselves mysterious.
And the few that do
are quite deliriously deluded.
The real mysterious guy
doesn't mean to be so,
is often misunderstood;
and once you get to know them
isn't quite a mystery after all.
To that, the adept female has the key. 
All is quite simply as you plainly see.

resuscitate
an ailing soul
bereft of starlight's

superb glimmer
and woollen warmth.  
Mayhap, stellate glow

in the stillness
of tranquil flight,
their counsel, console.

Humbly, we plea--
hymn of the night,
come and tarry awhile.*




_ _ __ ✏
○●
°

your ink
      has
indelibly stained

my
    unwitting soul;
we are now

together,
      forever,
         
--irreparably ruined*




●○
°

Fourteen billion ears
And not a pair to listen
Fourteen billion eyes
Ignore the running captions
Seven billion tongues
Wag 24/7 on the web
Still, ******* burn and burst
Never a lack of words to say

Data,
meta data,  
metaphysical privacy...
Intrusion by access free for all
Though you've nothing to hide
All of you is on display
Wirelessly
****

Minuscule ants make a flightless
beeline along a sandbox perimeter.
In their wake, a few grains of sand

Fall out of their confining place.  
One day, perhaps, they shall be free,
back to a convivial reunion by the sea.

One could traverse the length and depth
and breadth of this and back and still
have more to ponder on and discover!

But as the grains within that pit
outnumber the billions alive today;
only stars of night can reflect their gaze.

as it is with tares 
that freely tower 

shoulder to shoulder 
with golding crop of wheat 
so, lurks wickedness 

seen but unrecognised 

cloaked in brille shimmer 
of genial, ambient light 

amidst our sun-kiss days 
disquieted togetherness;
spoils any utopian dream*




_ _ __ ✒
●○
°

poetry has
progressively
progressed;
transforming
into an interactive
attempt at dialogue
between poet and reader
between soul and soul

stepping onto the doormat
knuckles rapping on wood
heart pounding mind racing

perhaps its like those
after school tv reruns
or those movie remakes

imagine live streaming
and podcasting in
very slow motion

loosing you and having
to remember back then
are unreachable ghosts*




●○
°

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




_ _ __✒
●○
°

'

The weary social consciousness arose, 
the adulation reveals 
the personification of hope; 
What of our communal yesterday? 

We, the refugees of our past mistakes, 
embodied by a bush that no longer burns, 
consumed in the fervent disappointment and disgust. 

Our faith is now rewarded - 
an olive branch has been offered; 
and on one shoulder lay what we only 

dare to hope, 'Perhaps, perhaps...' 
The journey to that time and day 
begins today, sworn in resolutely. 

The weary arise to lift their chins. 
The din roars above the pros and cons. 
The person to lead a nation and a globe sworn in again. 
What of our communal tomorrow...?






____✒
○●
°

'

if there be but two 

on this twilight moon's 

landscape, there might be 

in a galaxy of its own 

a hidden treasure trove 

of good and loved things 

that can be opened up 

and relished each day!




____✒
○●
°

Take that bold step up to my words
and don't walk away until they have had their fill;
each party imbuing the other,
brimming over with the permeate of life.
Read to your satisfaction; but read!
Free your mind upon these winged lines.

cerebration, once spoken or written
would have corrupted pure thought
by the muddied hand of our articulation.

just like cynicism waxing cynical:
in that lone instant of release; its
value drops from lofty to mundane*



●○
°

Once or so a day I go, to
gather together my thoughts
And let them hop upon a page
Where they perform on stage
Each post, each comment
All a merry figment
Once bumped off
The dream is dead.
'Gig's up!' So it's said.
A game that's all in my head.

was it grafted interference
or was it redolent curse;
all this time, scraping moss
across unguerneyed pavers

each exercise a shocker
grating petitions scour the air;
a dragging fence-gate
badly in need of repair

on either side, stand on a lean
dripping candles and wilting flowers;
suited sentinels vacuum
a freshly emptied hearse

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.

Unsaddled, a rider gone astray.
Unhitched, thoughts are out today.
Unbridled, elation on hyper drive.
Unpleasant memories, emotions dive.
Undefined hope, embers weakly glow.
Undetermined outcomes ever slow.
Out from under yet not over,
Back on the saddle but not forever.

At the door, random severance:
Like a telemarketer on steroids,
This quasi-divine contrivance
Not any substance or fleeing could quell:
Here we dance, zomboid grievance,
Mere mortals could not work around.

acceptance is essential,
more so than tolerance,
but together, they allow
for steps towards - - belonging






____✒
○●

I wash my face of an overly busy day
and your fingerprint on my wash basin mirror catches my eye
then it all comes back to me
how we spent the afternoon 
in each other's company
in a flurry of panic 
to conquer yet another deadline.
But that imprint seals an inwards part that becomes my final assessment
and without uttering another word
I conclude without doubt or reservation
that whatever you touch becomes part of my history, becomes a milestone in my life's journey and that part and more of me has been absorbed by all of you.

There she flits, this butterfly
Flutters by, alights on blooms
With certain grace and eloquence.
But no more to a petal of mine.
Once, she did, many moons ago
Favour flowed upon my seasonal rose;
She'd tarry awhile, row upon row.
These days her wings soar gaily
On other climes, in other garden beds,
With the distinct exception of mine.
Perhaps this rose by any other name
Has lost its nectar, has lost its rhyme:
This garden unattractive and dry.
Farewell, fair butterfly, farewell.
Without fanfare this scorned rose
Shall shrivel away and surely die.

when you read squiggled words
that bleed onto jaundiced pages
you'll hear a shadow and not see
the face and form of this poet
else, you would have yourself
come before an audience and
opened mouth and wagged tongue
within your sight and hearing;
but no, you can't even trace faint
restless lines traversing this face
nor animated inflection of tone
none to aid but yourself
as you pick feigned words
therein a vineyard to gather
your basket brimming over
later press, juice, or ferment.
So drink your fill of orphaned vine,
touch inebriated awareness; and
perhaps thereby our meanderings meet.

by this way 
each new day 
you let float 

your paper boat 

down a fast 
running stream 
that holds no dreams






____✒
○●

A weary social consciousness arose,
whilst public adulation reveals
a personification of hope;
what of our communal yesterday?

We, the refugees of our past mistakes,
embodies a bush that no longer burns,
consumed in fervent disappointment and disgust.

Our faith is now justly rewarded -
an olive branch has been offered;
and on one shoulder lay what we only

dare to hope, 'Perhaps, perhaps...'
the journey to that time and day
begins today, sworn in resolutely.

The weary arise to lift their chins.
The din roars above the pros and cons.
No person can lead a nation and a globe;
what of our communal tomorrow...?*




_ _ __ ✒
○●
°

internet interests
laundry hanging on the web
lines sweet as honey


ludicrous statements
without hindsight's benefit
fish out of water


selfie-important
others, reflective mirror
monkey copies you


amused by postings;
remind me one boring day
to write on the sand*



●○
°

smokescreen
tear gas and pepper spray
thick fog, dash display
wipers on overdrive
halogens burning bright
road ahead still dim
destination out of sight

why are you so easy
to walk past
but then so difficult
to forget?--

a cattle brand that
sears each waking moment;
scathe dreams of night:
what memory tarries

are rumpled bed-
clothes at sun up
and scribbled sheets
sojourn inconsolate
on a litter-strewn desk

It might the flying Dutchman be
Or the fame of those fishermen three
How it we walk planks of our own making!