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Before you pray: BELIEVE
Before you speak: LISTEN
Before you spend: EARN
Before you write: THINK
Before you love: TRUST
Before you quit: TRY
Before you assume: ASK
Before you die: LIVE
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THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face,
The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head.
I saw them last night, a cradle moon, two horns of a moon, such an early hopeful moon, such a child's moon for all young hearts to make a picture of.
The river-I remember this like a picture-the river was the upper twist of a written question mark.
I know now it takes many many years to write a river, a twist of water asking a question.
And white stars moved when the moon moved, and one red star kept burning, and the Big Dipper was almost overhead.
and underneath your skin
lies a heart no longer beating

and you lay
cold and still

and you ask
of me questions
with lips tinged blue

to which
there are no
answers


i know not why
and where to now

i know there is sorrow

i know we move on somehow...

but underneath your skin
your heart has finished
it's toil.....

it is okay...old friend
you can rest now.
we lost another friend today
to heart failure....
vale
free internet 24-hour
Johnny Cash radio station
-all day long
the general listens-
plasma tv on the wall
silent bombs in Gaza
orange blossom specials
-they need plasma, don't they-
burn, burn, burn
-Cry, Cry, Cry-

r ~ 7/29/14
\¥/\
  |     Gaza
/ \
O, You,
who stole my heart so long ago...
Where are you now?
I need you more than ever.
Maybe if we stay up together I'll forget
what makes me tremble at night,
and you can finally say
that someone got you something
for your birthday...
Why do I keep thinking about you...?
So precise
the lines
yet not
this painting
done for you
Wisps of joy
and sorrow
in their passing
I see you watching
as they trail
across a sky of blue.

r ~ 7/23/14
\¥/\
  |    Carolina blue sky with ci
/ \
my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow
cut down in their infant prime
a community broken by sorrow
families in turmoil
united, saddened, enraged and loyal.

what happened in Connecticut the other day
is just ******* wrong
I rarely swear in my poems
but the feelings too strong
I struggle to express
20 children killed
lest, the very thought
leaves the spine frozen and chilled

Im not one to be political
and this poem isn't satirical
we talk about the Lost Children of America
but what of the Lost Children of Gaza
200 killed, bombed and shot
in their schools, in their homes, in the plaza
do we protest that these atrocities must stop?
we outcry at the public consumption of guns
but are we fickle to which news story
that leaves us shell shocked and stunned

perhaps we have become dehumanised
to the daily statistics of death;
we should write eulogies
for all the Lost Children of Tomorrow
not just for those from the West

my heart bleeds for the Lost Children of Tomorrow
cut down in their infant prime
leaves a world broken by sorrow
in a race against time
lets not forget the other nations
at this time of giving;
we should be a race united
for the love & for the living

I shed a tear let it not be for nothing
please do not scan read the poems meaning
or dismiss it as poor verse
because it demands of your feelings;
if the emotions were blood vessels
the arteries would burst

we are all poets here
with words to share
put our hearts online
our emotions laid bare
I ask very little of you
Only,
lets not forget the many
when we eulogise the few
This is by no means whatsoever using the tradegy that happened recently in the US as a vehicle to raise an issue about what is happening in Isreal & Palestine; its about all children that are beset by tradegy inflicted by violence. This poem was written in context, and in reflection of, a conversational debate on Facebook about the world at large and how affected the population is by one event but not so much by another. As a poet I am engaged to write on lots of subjects and emotions, and those things that I engage with or that interact with me.
We brought a warm, vegetarian dinner to the homeless in a Christian shelter
The steaming pans burned my thighs for the duration of the ride
Our host was a self-described anarchist, married with four children and a dozen guests
He had participated in hundreds of protests; countless arrests
Travelled all over the globe to the site of genocide and hate
Saved lives one at a time, noble and tragic work
His first mission was in his early twenties, to the Gaza Strip alone
The night he arrived he slept in a friendly home
Woke to gunfire, screaming bullets and children, and mechanical roar
Get down! Said the Palestinians, closing the windows and doors
If you look outside
They
Will
Shoot
You
Israeli helicopters scanned the streets and mowed down pedestrians
Dropping massive glass beads
Marbles, they called them
These spheres would shatter and leave sharp edges for scared feet
Once impaled there was no running, blood trailed and so no hiding
Tear gas canisters cleared the capable, my host watched one enter a house
Inside children cried and begged for safety from war and smoke
A doctor huddled with my host heard and acted on a hero’s impulse
Leapt from his roof to that of the yelling young
Dove in through a window and snatched all three, along with the stinging source
The elder two were scared but saved, handed to the Palestinians
The baby with them had suffocated
Too late
The doctor gave my host the canister, still warm
You brought this here, he said
And he was right
Made In The USA
He brought the story back, called every major newspaper
No interest in anything he had to say
This stuff happens every day they told him, boring
Last week twelve Palestinians were killed by a bulldozer
Now there’s front page material
Something
More
Unusual
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