The smell
Of a release
From a restless hell
And a warm welcome
To the life of a busy worker bee

Everything is swell
Says a brew of bitter coffee

a plastic experience
is something to fear

leave the cave,
or forever rest in darkness

no debt to anyone
but yourself

if you conceive it
you will receive it

oscillation is communication,
and so it goes...

i write more than i should
maybe i should talk more
so that i am not as misunderstood.

(a.d)

I picture you with my eyes
And wow
Nobody knows how much I love that smile

I
a derelict
crumbling, was picked to
come tumbling down.

On the way I stopped to say,
the view was quite good.
(trees for the wood)
comes to mind but I was blind to that near and
only feared from afar.

Falling is not quite the calling that I thought it would be,
the ground being ground
was much harder than me and
it hurt when I hit.
A destitute,
no parachute
no surprise.

In owl-moon night
when doors are closed
in shut out light
lanes breathe morose

He carries the weight
dead in drunk sleep
in chilled night’s sweat
of tightened grip

On side of street
men burning logs
seize some heat
as need too dogs

But he must run
errand of hell
till job is done
moon’s face goes pale

Jangle hand’s bell
veins swell up taut
marks frame frail
battle hard fought

From lane to lane
his stone feet roam
till rests his pain
on pavement home!