On an island in the west country,..
In the Queen's land, where Black-beard,..
Once played on, as a young child..
And called his home, among the contours...
Chained men and tobaccos..
Once brought fortune lust..


Bridges were built, and train tracks laid..
By the man Brunel, who wore as long a hat..
Ships and cathedrals, sugar factories..
Bansky's graffiti, treasured marks on walls..
And stone-henge laid a stone throw away..


Roman baths, in near by Bath..
And underground passage, of tunnels..
Laid for walks and rivers paths..
Horse mountain and Welsh borders..
Sat not far away on looks, across the channel..


But for the one thing, that makes Brizz so special..
Is the sanctuary, it provides for lost souls..
This here laid land, a place like home..
Gulliver did be so proud, to call his home..
Away from home, as I do, away from home..

I am the brick, that has been named
Along the alley, to the last corner stand
There, right there, I claim my patch
And set myself,  a coozy hut

Wine, beer, cider, whisky, nuts and crisp
Smoky zones, now set out side
My banquet laid, for wandering souls
To find a refuge, rescued here on my patch

Escaped men, from domestic chores
Escaped men, from troubled minds
Escaped men, of destitute hungers

Escaped men, to find their buoys voice
All scream out, loud at transmitting box
22 men, seen on playground pitch
Right here on my patch, they watched and roared

Juke box plays, gives dancing feet
An eruption of ballads, ...
Fuelled by a happy lico ..

On my last bell ring, ding don
Staggered men, fall out off my patch
Till tomorrow, when I open up my doors
I am the brick, that has been named

http://poetrysoundbites.blogspot.com/

I love you; sleep with me
Have my baby, be my lady
Then unto plans of us together
You have my heart, my soul to please
My candle light, my heart beat drum

Air to blow dust off, drawing boards
These blue prints, are back to be used
We will make it, yours and mine
And stitch two torn clothes together
As one, in pair, as one entangled in melt

Suddenly, lungs that breath
Revolt, the night sunset is absent too
Then eye to eye, into eye for an eye
And ping-pong *****, does exchange bats
On table tops

Common grounds
Is without listening ears
Where did love go all wrong
Then skeletons in cupboards
All fall out

I love a book, so old and brown..
Fat and used, with stains on it..
Pencil and pen marks, left to drain..
Tea or coffee, cups of rings..


Pages folded or book mark used..
Notes left, on pages reached..
A name written, a bookworm claimed..
This is my book, I dated it so..


I love a book..
That reads so well..
It cast a spell and leaves me drawn..
Until the end, last chapters reached..
I am not to be found..
But deep in stories, told in ink..


I love a book..
Say mystery, love, crime, poetry..
Fiction, or real stories told..
I love a book, so old and used..
It cast a spell, till all is read..

Have you seen, with gifted sight
The bottom line of pits
Made stand and smiled
On platforms stage

Have you danced a tango with a cactus
And bowed down in appreciation
While still unplugging,  
What was left  behind
In piercing thorns on skins

Do not speak bad of the dragon
I have come to appreciate it's breath
In dens he owned, I sat in; a lodger

Trick or treat, is from what side
Side of the coin the toss, gravitates
So the lucky coin still has a side
Unseen until show of hands

Like everything else, in matter
Do not speak bad,
Of the dragon's breath
It is rude to do so.