I hope that you're happy
You know who you are

You've driven our fair angel
Away from our hearts

She's leaving us all
Because of a few

I tried to persuade her
I don't know what to do

A heart that is pure
Is easily hurt

Her heart was ripped out
And thrown in the dirt

I think I can say for everyone here
All of us shall miss you
You're beautiful my dear!

Henry Kissinger
is a man
of great diplomatic skills
he could quite easily
obtain a job
working in them there
rancorous hills
with Henry doing
the negotiations
there would be
an outbreak of peace
within those hilly
elevations

A part of those letters
Are left behind in the red cannon
A few pages of utmost sincerity
Caressing the unknown
A few instances of the unrequited love

A leaf on the ground
Her veins holding on to the clot
Blood dripping from her soul
Mice infecting the city with the plague
Thoughts destructing her mind recklessly

Two hundred dollars
The ******* looks at his face in disgust
Is the hatred unconsciously precarious on his doings
The past mocking at his present
She's grave and he's cruel

The wind tonight will not blow
Lights have been told to turn the people blind
They will all purport to be satiated
And within themselves
Die with the top notch blades cutting them straight.

Jane showed me
the tombstone
of the farmhand

who had fallen
under his tractor
the year before

a few wild flowers
were placed
in a jam jar

in front
his wife and daughter
are still in

the tied cottage
Jane said
but they'll need

to move out soon
once the local council
finds them

somewhere to live
I looked
at the words

on the small stone
I didn't know him well
she added

he was a quiet man
cows mooed
from a nearby field

I looked at Jane
next to me
he was only 35

I said
quite a few men
die in the way he did

on the land
she said
she knelt down

and placed
a few cowslips
in the jam jar

and tapped them
into shape  
she stood up

and we walked
around the church
and along the path

onto the narrow road
between
the high hedgerows

birds sang
the sun shone
down on us

how's your father doing?
she asked
he's ok

he likes his work
in the woods
keeps him fit

he says
I said
we stood in

by the hedge
as a tractor
went by

she smelt of apples
as I got close
to her

her dark hair
was tied
in a ponytail

her dark eyes
gazed at me
the tractor sped

along the narrow road
towards the farm
I wanted

to kiss her
but I didn't
I looked at the sky

where rooks flew
overhead
but dreamed

that night
that I kissed her
inside my head.

~

Going down

Handprints appear on these elevator doors,
smudged of grinder swirls, yet so very clear
Imprints of need and want lingering
on a stainless steel façade

Rounded numbers beg to be pushed,
no thirteen in this bunch
though appropriate it would be
as my luck has found its way to the lowest levels

Standing on this suspended platform
cables of strength weaken with each breath,
emergency exits laugh at my predicament,
as left again slowly reaches out for right

Before me you stand, tears on your cheeks
“It is the way it has to be,” you say
The doors close, while through a narrowing vertical slat
I see you walk away…my heart drops…palms on metal…

I can not keep them open…anymore
Going
D
O
  W
    N