When  you  are  young.
The  village  seems  only
one  field  away.
You  can  skip  it  in  no  time.

Middle  aged  it  feels
two  fields  away.
And  is  getting  a  bit  
of  a  bore.

When  you  are  old
it  seems  like  three  fields
Almost  Impossible  to  walk.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.

I can't eat Ramen.
Which *****, cuz I love Ramen!
The broth is so good!


Curley fries are great.
They're better than normal fries.
Nobody knows why.


DVD's aren't dead.
I like the commentary.
That's why I buy them.


Thesauruses help,
But is using them cheating?
I will never know.


Okay, I'm done now.
Seriously, you can go.
They're just dumb haikus!

dust and smoke
old bones
and rusty thrones
fade in the mist
our train
heading to a new place
will we be missed?

will we forget the smell
are we destined
forever to dwell
on stories
and words
that swell
out of eyes
and hands
and feet
out of
foggy tunnels
and ***** sleet

pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where Sun once grew
in tufts of gold

girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped

tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark

and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all

The dappled spots of Sun disappear when I step into them
Still there but overshadowed by my own
Feelings growing on me,
like moss smothering the trees
Been here too long now.
Feet too heavy to drag forwards
I can just stay here,
right?
Exist on the boundaries until my heart beats silent
Until the yearning over runs
And I die in the temporary mute of the world
A woken state of dreaming
Water gushes through and
In the hush and rush of the current
Carries my reality by
And bye
I've gone
Just pale blue smoke left behind  
To disperse in the expanding warm air
This place breathes me into its lungs
Holds me there
Exhales
And I am done
Pooled no more in one spot
As this clear living lake
Rather I'm everywhere
And no where
All in one time
Expanded outwards past normal consequence
Outgrown beyond the edges of my own fantasy

Its back.
I must go?

Cold, pimpled skin
As I descend into the dark
Bound for a home that only exists in brick,
Solid life
With only a murmur of a pulse found
When at night I can dream again
Life for me being

Just dappled spots of Sun
Still there but overshadowed by my own