It was on a Pirate Day
When I stumbled upon you
Wearing blue and white stripes
And a purple scarf
With skeletons on it that
Reminded me of those
That were in his closet.
Criminal!

It was about a Pirate
That Day when I talked to you
Wearing red and white stripes
And a black smile
With two scars on it that
Reminded me of those
That were on his face.
Violent!

A Sea Shanty of People
When I needed to leave you
Wearing disguises and masks
And robbing the smart
With evil in it that
Reminded me of those
That were in his heart.
Bandit!

It was on a Pirate  Day
When I once found you
Wearing no cutlass or hook
And a twinkly eye
With friendship in it
Reminded me of those
That are decent and honest.
No Ambush!

****** Bird?
You have ruffled my feathers.
Cluck
Off
To the hen house.
I have worms to find.
A tasty treat in my beak
Or digging up beetles with my claws
None of which will ever be yours.

****** Bird?
If I could fly I would leave
You
Now
In this coop.
But we are locked in.
I'm left digging the dirt
Or sleeping on straw
Shell-less and cracked and raw.

In the ill-considered dark
Behind electric lights
Rats
Like an oil slick
Poured into the night
Unseen.
Their blind pink eyes;
Blood dripping on
Varicose Street
Where revolving insomniacs
Gathered
To greet a future
Hard Won
A destiny of dust
Inconsequential motes
Bought by votes.

I don't want relationships
based on bonds or strings
or things that make me
               tied
                        down
let
        me
                 drown
                                 in
my
            own
                         imaginings.

I don't want friendships
based on falseness or lies
or spies that make me
                  hate
                             love
let
         me
                    suffer
                                   ­ in
my
              own
                              ties.

I don't want a kinship
based on trust and hopes
or jokes that make me
                   smile
                                cry
have
            me
                       hang
                                       on
my
                   own
                                    ropes.

There should be a way
to just save thoughts and
feelings
automatic
come back
with no setting
just there
a thought on the air.
I've lost mine
and it won't come back
exactly as I needed
to say.
Lost
but with support and
if this were
entwined in
everything
you can redo and rewind.
Hello!
It's Poetry xxxx

# most apps save and you don't lose

I am not afraid.
I never told you.
You left in darkness and silence.
Went.
Still I will not speak.
No light,
Just the glow from the street lamps
Above
Below
Illuminating  a tranquil sky.
Stay! I cannot say.
The maze is coming.
I
Run
Call.
He has taken me.
I am not afraid.
Can you hear me?

You carve out initials and lines
Painting them in a multitude of colours
Red, yellow, pink and green
Letters lined up to make a name
Or perhaps two firsts just  joined together
Writing your & backwards.

I cry out for words and rhymes
Playing with them in an assemblage of syllables
Orange and purple and blue
Expressions ordered up to create a poem
Or maybe few thoughts just linked together
Writing my life backwards.

In amongst dark clouds
A slice of orange gives you hope
But there a scars there
Deep and red
That fade to yellow
And then they are gone!

Shadows whisper memories
Of urgent conversations
Slowly gliding away
One, two, three speech bubbles
Fading into the unknown
And I'm shouting!

Lines change, directions change
We all change in a world of change
So why does that bird fly
Fearless into the unknown
Into the darkness, a dark cloud
And not worry about the return!

Slipping through dry leaves
you teased me with your forked tongue
not so young
a whole lot  more
older and wiser but no advisor
to deny the hiss as you slid through
holes
and let it come
so much a *****
cleaner and greener but not meaner
to stop future slime slithering here
leaving
skins
at my door.

Advertise
Put it on
A line.

Package
In there you
My memory.  

Wrap
In soft Bubbles
Tight shut.

Send
To best buyer
It ends.

My favourite time is
when I carried you
through ripe
bananas, melons, cucumbers
and hated them
choked in my throat
but saw a way through
mixing smoothies
to no use
abuse
so
nothing I did
or advice I took
was ever quite true
silent
keeping vitamins inside
it was serious
swallowing things so vile
couldn't see
past the life mapped out
in a bedroom of blue
strawberries, oranges, lemons
a fruit
I grew
you
flew.

It is always around midnight when
I sit and contemplate my days
And what better way to say it
Than a poem by Robert Graves:

About midnight my heart began
         To trip again and knock.
The tattered ghost of a tall man
Looked fierce at me as in he ran,
          But fiercer at the clock.

It was, he swore, a long, long while
          Until he'd had the luck
To die and make his domicile
On some ungeographic isle
          Where no hour ever struck.

'But now, you worst of clocks', said he
           'Delayer of all love,
In vengeance I've recrossed the sea
To **** at your machinery
            And give your hands a shove.'

So impotently he groped and peered
           That his whole body shook!
I could not laugh at him; I feared
This was no ghost but my own weird,
           And closer dared not look.

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We ***** together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Today I drove to have coffee
With  you.
You cancelled on me
But we saw it through.
Wasn't giving up on a friend
I once knew.
Saw the scars and
Knew it was true.
And though it's not visible I have
Hurt there too.

Today I went on a very long DRIVE
FRIENDS we have to keep us alive
Plan and be sure that I WILL arrive
Certain things can help us SURVIVE.

TODAY I was brave and took my car
Always NERVOUS about going too far FOLLOW a route or almost a star
Destination on my RADAR.

Today I LAUGHED and did not cry
Much TIME wasted to lay and to sigh
And NOW I sit and wonder why
Minutes, hours you cannot BUY.

Trudy sits sipping cocktails
Watching the passers by.
The girl with the Botox, false eyebrows to match,
The ****** old codger, with his hand on her ******.
They swan right on past
Ignoring the view.
No-one knows why
She's invisible to you.
But she doesn't care, she points one finger in the air,
She'd rather look at the sky.

Can I love the you in me
Saying things to set ourselves free
Sitting silent
Lonely at times?

Can I hear the sound of your voice
Words we say and don't rehearse
Feeling lonely
Steady at times?

Will we be a prefect two
Sailing off and into the blue
Swimming softly
Under at times?

Will you reach the deep in me
Touching gently what you don't see
Smiling violent
Hiding our crimes?

A knowledge and a mastery
              kept inside
is not wise and why keep those
     S    E   C   R    E   T   S
            that easily
S
     L
           I
               D
                     E
out, up, down, forward, back
around, a sight, a sound
                     to
                      D
             I                   E
                   L     G
not guide!

To acknowledge the catastrophe
                not hide
those cries and why weep for a
    B  L  E  A  K  N  E  S  S
             that cunningly
R                                    S
          I     ­              E
                    D
in, down, behind, in front
a trot, a canter, a gallop
                     to
***                           IDE
and hide?

I'm in a pub garden having a drink
when a wasp comes by and what does he think
that disturbing a giggle a smile and a laugh
it's ok to dive and have a beer bath.
I think to myself I could rescue the thing
but what if I do and he comes back to sting.
I leave him there but feel guilty and know
that diving in beers is no place to go.

A lexical set or a rule of three
Rhyming words or an analogy.
Iambic pentameter or just free verse
Acrostic, nostalgic without a rehearse.  

Pathetic Fallacy with cloud and rain
Feelings on a page without restrain.
A ballard, a couplet a villanelle or two
AA BB it's up to you.

Personification with trees that moan
Onomatopoeia with frogs that groan.
Similes slither like a snake in sand
Metaphor branches are our hands.

Alliteration angels always await
Sitting on the symbolic gate.
Assonace with early birds and worms
Writing it all in poetry terms.

Wonder why I can rejoice in a light breeze
but a single fallen leaf
turned in the wrong direction
can make it feel like
a storm
a hurricane
a monsoon?

Wonder why I can revel at my ease
but a single word so brief
aimed in the right direction
can make me feel like
a swarm
a bit insane
a baboon?