people these days
are our solitary
point of reference

unless we're old enough
to recall 'back in the day'
to compare smoke signals

with mobile signals; well
most of us can't even
speak or 'read' Morse.*



_ _ __✒
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•

The reason for my articulation
is simple and utilitarian-
not to seek perfection,
but to seek ablution.

Perfection is reserved for those
with time to spend and money to burn.
My soul requires much more than these,
its ransom necessitates release:

Expiated expeditiously, in a flurry
of words that scathe my every thought.*




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°

it has been said that poetry
is the straight and narrow road
to a woman's heart of hearts;

        but alas, for me

              it has been the escape pod
from that woman who once,
but no longer, has regard for me*





_ _ __✒
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°

amusing exchanges;
remind me to tell
you about it later!

Would you know my gait
if merely my words parade,
while everything else lay hid?

Perhaps, should you have shared
in my thought and conversation;
maybe your soul would recall-

once, some time ago, I know
we rode our waves back to shore.*



_ _ __✒
●○
•

thou hast waxed sarcastic
to mock and disrespect the
misfortunes of another's need
whether male or female
of varied colour and creed

why dost thou behave unseemly
become as a clanging cymbal
blustering as sounding brass?
kindle again, first love's flame
before it's too late, unsweet charity

it's hard to hear yourself thinking
when hate on hate is all around
there's a cry for freedom ringing
its price: to keep another bound

our goals require such liberties
which defy our mental capacities
we hope it's worth all the drama;
our vengeful acts stripped of karma*


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°