I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all
    oppression and shame;
I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with
    themselves, remorseful after deeds done;
I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying,
    neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband—I see the treacherous seducer
    of young women;
I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be
    hid—I see these sights on the earth;
I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny—I see martyrs and
    prisoners;
I observe a famine at sea—I observe the sailors casting lots who
    shall be ****’d, to preserve the lives of the rest;
I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon
    laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like;
All these—All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out
    upon,
See, hear, and am silent.

upon one time

where I woke with memory of
a dreaming rhyme, fresh so clearly

vivid on my mind, still
bold colorful sublime,


the paper naked,
staring  empty

stark,
awaiting words
of dreamscape

treatises,
escaped being captured
by a mere me

or stayed
in never never
land

safe from prying eyes
to always be there
when

I sleep.

A street is dusty there is grit on my feet.
Meat hanging about from a left over stew
Bony cats cling to doorsteps
Like furry door mats and there are a few
Keeping the draughts out from the valley
Blowing a disease on bated breath.
A cat dares to hope or so it seems
But with this only bring a painful death.
The street so full of filth
from shoes, the smoke, and waste
brings creepers from every angle
A broken fishing line dares
with hope hanging thinks it can dangle
into a stream, hoping for a dream fish
to bite, but it wont, it is not there
it drowned in the sea of doom
where there are trawlers and fishermen
with shiny nets and no dust in their room
Leaves, crunching underfoot of the passer by
staring at himself in windows, wiped
till they are bone dry.
The park gates, daily washed by the thankful dog
picking its leg up conveniently at this stop
through the stench, the mist and the pea-soup fog
it wanders with the peacocks where feathers drop
on the dusty lane, the ***** street where cats sleep.

She heard her little mockingbird
Majestic fantasy
Through all the rhyme and reasons
For such fake security

We heard the call, she heard it too
Time stood so still
But the world just kept on turning
With no seconds left to ****

And when the summer turned to fall
And promises broke from the chill
She ignored her little mockingbird
And it's cry from heaven's hill

Rejoice, when you see that Christ is God alone.
Repent , and you shall have riches in Heaven.
Refuse , to do anymore evil only goodness .
Relie, on allowing Christ to carry you through.
Rise, up and answer the Christ call to be used .
Follow him on the narrow road lying before you.
It may be a tough one but it leads to Heaven.
Which there you shall have no more pain or tears.
Just Joyfully worshipping the Good Lord God.

spin me 'round the compass face
from North through East
on the balancing middle
round the dial
through South
through West,
no matter,
I always return
a little
off-kilter
or perhaps
a little
wiser.