He sails in his day dreams as the foaming crest crashes stars on the shore of his mind, whilst resting his gaze upon the lanterns of the night sky that are brightly akin to the songs untold by his lips, the quivering murmurs in the cosmos are in motion with poetry, thoughts, jazz and coffee, in the place of his solace, darkness is only the prelude to the arrival of the rising sun on the roses softer than velvet and the voyager.

Humans
brush past
one another
in the shifting
colors of the
city lights,
the droplets
from the clouds
of time fall
as though
touched by
starlight, and
even love arrives
by fate for the
people who
are not it's
seekers.

Now that you’re gone
my scars are like beautiful tattoos.
Going with me forever.



Shell✨🐚

poetry has become my drug.
when did this happen?
what was once a source of healing,
now causes scorn.
three times of torture;
I write, re-rite and write again
but like an addiction,
it soon loses its thorn.
did anyone read it?
I check, re-check, triple-check.
do they like it?
will it 'trend'?
what was once my life source
I now mourn.

They talk
In the name
Of god
And Jesus,
They walk
The walk
And wear
Their suits,
I don’t
Believe
Their pretty
Words,
Or their
Gospel,
I try to
Stay away
From
All that,
But if evil
Does roam
Around,
It’s them.