The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

The hive
Is buzzing
Alive inside
It knows
Where you are
And how to
Draw you in.to.this.
Construct.
The loyal bee
Blindly
Meets
Its surrender
Within

Buzzing
In the hive.

You allowed me to walk
Into your resolute gaze,
Woman,
I had witnessed
The opening of my prison

I'm reminded of when
The Earth was still young
Just rolling in the wind,
Like the way this short poem
Spells out the day we began

I hurt too

Sitting in a large room
with a few people
around - 2 friends,
20 acquaintance,
One frenemy, and
50 sloggers with a frown.
Every time I look at their filthy face
I tend to rub down
the pain the sarcasm
They use to bring me down.
I often
fail to understand
the purpose why
these ******* are still
running around
For, I find this place
to be ideal for dressing down.
Everyone here looks stuck,
behind the thick walls
of the glorious fraternity
with hidden brawls
trying to solve unworthy affairs
when all they can do is a conference call.
They are highly judgemental and fail to express
the agony behind their not-so-happy face.
Broken and shattered,
Cause they never really mattered.
with their morality scaling down
laughing while facing a nervous breakdown
these losers are nothing but a big pile of
something in the colour
"Yellowish brown."

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

with an Apple Macintosh
you can't run Radio Shack programs
in its disc drive.
nor can a Commodore 64
drive read a file
you have created on an
IBM Personal Computer.
both Kaypro and Osborne computers use
the CP/M operating system
but can't read each other's
handwriting
for they format (write
on) discs in different
ways.
the Tandy 2000 runs MS-DOS but
can't use most programs produced for
the IBM Personal Computer
unless certain
bits and bytes are
altered
but the wind still blows over
Savannah
and in the Spring
the turkey buzzard struts and
flounces before his
hens.