Here he comes wearing bright colours
That say,
I'm getting in you're way

He doesn't take rejection easy
Try wafting away
In you're face
Instantly
Persistently

Gets his kicks this way
Try to make my excuses
Conversation brings
Subtle threat
Of a sting

At the speed of a
Golden eagle,
He'll hit you with
A needle

Compound eyes
Only see one view
Any other is
Out of view

To my relief
He sees something sweet,
Feet
Faster than wings
Off he buzzed.


Song - Blur, Charmless man

All great creative storytellers know,
As you do, Adams, Asimov, and Wells,
The time machine was built so long ago

Expression chassis, tonal power cells,
The primary engine, sending us with word,
As you do, Adams, Asimov, and Wells

The second engine, flashback, and a third
—portend, exhausts each piston-fired clue,
The primary engine, sending us with word

The epoch steering, future or review,
Remember back, or forward fantasy
Portend exhausts each piston-fired clue

Captain Imagine, Wingman Memory,
With engines run on image, tone, and phrase,
Remember back, or forward fantasy

Like Atwood, Pratchett, Liu, and Philip K,
All great creative storytellers know,
With engines run on image, tone, and phrase,  
The time machine was built so long ago

Walking past a window
I see a woman crying
Wondering about all the scenario's
That could have befallen her?
Boyfriend problems?
Financial situation?
Job stress?
Just having one of those days?

I do the only thing
I can
Send her positive thoughts
And carry on with my day

Kate finished chopping and   
Wiped a meaningless
Onion induced tear away
Carrying on with her day

The complexities of the mind
Can be overwhelming
Sometimes unkind

Don't go running scared
Be brave
You're soul
Laid bare
The good will arise
I swear

When he's about
Let the madman shout

There's a new craze
Down on the beech
People are having a blast
Looking for sea glass

Colours brown green and blue
Plus the clear one
You can see straight through

Now glass when broken is sharp
As you know
But the rumble and tumble
Of The ocean
And the smallest grains
Like the wings of a moth
Smoothes the edges right off

Taken from nature
Manipulated by man
Returning unwanted
Weatherd and torn
Something quite unique
Is born