No one can escape my eyes
I watch over everyone
I'm neither enemy nor friend
I'm neutral and independent.

I am mysteriously empowered
With a unique light
Whose beam can penetrate every heart
And nothing there eludes my sight.

What could be darker
Than the heart that in darkness dwells?
None should be afraid of me
Unless there's a secret buried that tells

A past story--the owner wants to forget-
It festers and won't go away
'  None should know this-
this should not appear in the light of day'.

I am night
I am also light
If anyone fears me
His conscience he should search--with honesty.

SNOW

My hair is white as the snow
is the season then
made for the shivering old
living with the cold?

but the kids jump for joy
and shout---this is fun-
as they play 'snow-throw'
while I watch from the window

musing as I do every year
as the new snow flakes one by one
fall and tell their story
before my weary eyes
and their mysteries unfold

are they saying
in the ripeness of time
all that is
must rest, decay and fall ?

winter is the white chalk
that writes in clear letters
on the blackboard of time-

it's the last chapter of life
soon all shall be wiped off
to make for a new slate
for future generations to write
lines of their own
stripped of all that has gone before

farewell then, autumn,
take your leave

but I
in my old age am still
  stubborn and unyielding
to winter's exaggerated pronouncement
and here I stand to proclaim

should only youth be bold
and old age be sold  
too soon  to the ravage of impatient time
is the song  Carpe Diem a mockery to me ?

is it too late to celebrate
my most glorious years

when seasoned experiences have wiped away all tears
and a new anthem shall proclaim
I am  the Ulysses -inspired man
who has weathered every storm ?

Though my hair is white as the snow
it's not the season for fare-welling
or to go
into the self-exiled wilderness
to regret or to moan

even in the bitterest winter
there shall be new dawns when
some warm light shall encircle still
around hearts that dwell on love and beauty
this is an awakening
not the sunset falling
the fond heart is singing
joys are in the blooming

so
winter I count
no more than
a metaphor

I am still alive
and furthermore
I know
my life has not been lived
in vain

It’s too soon
for me to say farewell
and walk away

FANTASY

I am the tiny, lonely pebble
on the distant shore
you are the rising tide
I am waiting for

to find and carry me
to the passionate and endless sea
let me then drown in your slivery
*****--in your kisses I would die blissfully.

Here between these walls
The world is intoxicated
And you and I are the only ones sane
As we negotiate each others pain
And compensate it with blissful pleasure
Only we can fix all that is wrong
Beyond steamed windows
Outside where the world drowns in rain
Bit by bit
We discover the secret of happiness
And peace
As we fulfill the hunger within us
I swear we are half way there to ending poverty
We are overcome within ourselves
We are not you and I
But one
I'm wearing your old sweater
And we snuggle propped up against the wall
Or each other
Our arms wound around and palms pressed close, fingers knitted together
Your fingers stroke my hair
As we listen to the different heartbeats
And voice our own dreams
With words we build separate versions of an ideal world
Cora you say
How come we're here like this
We're both so different
And I reply that it doesn't matter
We both have too much respect to let differences matter
Respect for the right of others
To reach for achieving a utopia without harming another being
The secret is to never see yourself as superior
And balance it with never seeing yourself as inferior
It doesn't matter what the colour of your envelope is
Or what factory you were made in
Your brand is not the name of your religion or the soil you were born on
The essence and material are the same
I can feel your smile tickling against my forehead as you whisper
I think I know what you mean
Let me show you
And a foreign sound reaches my ears
It's a slow rhythmic tune
With soft vocals
I have no idea what the words mean
And at that moment
Not for the first time
It crosses my mind
That if everyone spoke the same language would we still be like this
But it doesn't matter
As I listen like a blind man with no sense of time
I understand the song is about love
And there's a touch of longing
I can feel the melancholy in her voice
And the nostalgic homesickness in his
As the song plays on
I imagine the two lovers were reunited
I can feel the gratitude
And relief
I can see their future
And its everything I've always dreamed of
My kind of utopia

"Are you mad at us?", he asked.
She look up at him and stare in his soulful eyes. She can see the concern and guilt behind.

"No I'm not", she whispered. "I am not mad at you or her. Actually, I am annoyed at myself because I did, once again, hold onto something that I don't have control over."

Tears
they speak silently
over and again
of the pain
of past years

regrets
too many
broken dreams
love's fragility
joy's brevity

tears
they know
and feel more deeply
than the sufferer
they can write the full story

in the finest detail
of moments that caused misery
which the sufferer would remember but vaguely
they have a very long memory
and a heart filled with pity

tears
will anyone
show them
some sympathy
who, who would that be?

What do these guys think they are doing,
coming to our lands, killing and terrorising us?  
Whilst I hear the words of the Koran from their mouths,
it must be obvious that these guys are just foot soldiers, trained, indoctrinated, fired like missiles.  
Its not these guys we need to worry about, but the system that creates them.  
I am sure that at the top are political and financially motivated organisations that use these guys to further their political and financial aims.  
Bin Laden at least seemed to wear the "hair shirt" of his views - I wonder how many of the rest of supposedly Islamic leaders do this,
rather than line there pockets with the spoils of war and terrorism,
feed on and revel in the power they gain through violence.  


What do these guys think they are doing, coming to our lands,
killing and terrorising us?  
Whilst I hear the words of the bible from their mouths,
it must be obvious that these guys are just foot soldiers, trained, indoctrinated, fired like missiles.  
Its not these guys we need to worry about, but the system that creates them.  
I am sure that at the top are political and financially motivated organisations that use these guys to further their political and financial aims.  
Obama at least seemed to wear the "hair shirt" of his views - I wonder how many of the rest of our supposedly "democratic" leaders do this,
rather than line there pockets with the spoils of war and terrorism,
feed on and revel in the power they gain through violence.

It doesn't work when trying to rhyme
To mix the words of valentine
To cross the miles and pass the time
Until once more you are mine
And into to your arms again to climb
When touch and eyes can words refine
Warm bodies in the cold house of lime
Rekindle flames of feeling, taste lips of wine
Till I find my hearts true entwine
And you will be my woodsmoke valentine

Not so sure it's good
For me to be alone
Gives me time to think
Of the things I know
And the things I know
Never are quite right
The way I think I may
The way I know I might

Not so sure it's good
In the choosing of the sides
Where my brain convenes
With the left and right
While one stands up for yes
The other sits for no
Never can you tell
Which way this mind will go

Not so sure it's good
To let it out to play
Where in its adolescence gets lost
Or just ups and runs away