Early this morning,
rain, hail,or shine.
They will gather in salute
to the fallen and frail.

The young soldier's body, now bowed with age unrepaired.
Yet they will stand
straight and strong
young in their minds.

And when the hymns
have been sung
and the words
"Lest We Forget"
have been spoken.

When the bugle's final note of the Last Post
is played.
Then they, who came home gather and speak
of those who,
now walk in the ranks
of the fallen,
the Jim's, Davo's and Pete's.

They raise their glasses,
high and with a tear salute, brothers of action with a small pony of beer.

And at day's end,
alone in their bedrooms, they sit remembering
again the death,
the war and the loss.

It abides within.
As the Last Post
plays them to bed.

Where the river meanders for the sky’s embrace
Her lovelorn bank pines in the banyan’s shade
Blue ripples sing to soothe her travel’s stress
Lay me when all poems are dead in my head.

Write me an epitaph here rests the river poet
Who loved the cotton clouds mirrored on her breast
As her tides rose high laden with desire’s weight
He broke away from chains to madly sail her crest.

Where shines the moon makes the lover’s pathway
Flows quiet the river in her waves shadows sway
Night heron’s feet kiss her soft feathered bed
Lay me in silence when all poems are dead.

Lay me soft down make for me a space
On her alluvial soil in her riverine grace
In her diurnal shine and night’s saline kiss
The river poet would find his eternal peace.

Please repay me
My childhood!
I want to listen
My lost assonance in my mother’s enunciation!
To refresh myself with melody of eternity!

Please bestow me
My childhood!  
I want collect dew from the leaf!
To amass nature’s blessing!

Please confer me
My childhood!
I want to flee my kite to perpetuity and
mist in the hallowed invisibility!

Crack a hole in my skull
to let some light in
I’m walking around confused
checking out the numbers
on the side of houses
I’m walking around whistling the theme tune
of a movie I never saw
in light tinted green through newly sprung leaves
I bask in the holy midday sun
everything so fresh and new
it makes one forget about mistakes
and tomorrows
and consequence
pour me a strong, cold drink
I want to live life
on an endless back porch summer night
where the insects and the trees make their music
as we slowly let go
of the parts of ourselves
which hold no real weight
cut me to see if I bleed
I bet the blood would never come
too thick from the sweat induced
dehydration
I’m drinking iced coffee
on an infinite stretch of broad street
I’m climbing the trees of my childhood
to pick the fruits of my memories
they taste like nostalgia
and they taste like you
how I imagine you taste
if we were cast together
outside of time
these are the musings
of a mind riddled with growing up