Much adored is the dead poet

Within the glass case
Away from dirt
Amongst the books pressed
Rests his heart

Such was the silence he dreamed
When words streamed
Like riverine flow
In all might arose
Seeking the order in chaos

Orderly bound now his name
In peace standing behind wooden frame
Yet with the ceaseless commotion of wait...

Much adored rests the dead poet.

I started writing myself  little notes and some long letters around
the time the continents began to shift.

All I asked was for her to spell it.
I knew it would either change her life forever  or scare her into believing it wasn't true.

How much longer can the lies rule when the truth of things is nolonger deniable.

If there is no space and we are all there is why not open the gates and let us all live free.

I'll be the criminal who gave up all that lays beyond the ice.
A Shangrala where evil men have made the rules and our missing children are sent like cattle for the leaders to enjoy.

If I didn't stick to the Drink induced Poetry or the simple short stories talking about Love and Drugs.
I knew that they would eventually come for me.

My Allies be the pistol, the lighter,the mirror,the tin,the bottle of ***** and the broken girl who slept like a corpse curled up on the love seat.

I left the girl who left so long ago a note.
I started it with "I love you"and ended it with
" If they ever tell you I've gone mad know that I haven't.
I just got tired of fighting the lies and only dreaming of the truth..."

Shall I read a book,
or make a little ryhme,
but the million dollar question,
is ******* the time!
Few suggested take a walk,
grab the phone begin to talk,
another friend says try to cook,
but I gave him a crazy look,
someone advises, watch a game,
follow chelsea, they got fame,
My brothers idea was kinda creep,
he said forget everything, go to sleep,
I made my move, a second it took ,
Thanks to Zuckerberg, I got facebook !!

Color the Wood Ducks skating the waters with
any shade that comes to mind
Imagine the River Birch mindful of the stream
in any shape you like
Paint the late Summer night with watercolors
as yet unknown
Call the wonders of the world before you as if they
were your very own* .....

If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.

Life is a funny old thing
but for each of us there is an end.
But on Monday, alas, we say
farewell to a dear old friend.

He was a lovely man, honourable
and loved by so many, young and old
He had time for everyone all over
and had a huge heart of solid gold.

He was a leader, a well respected man
someone anyone could talk to with ease
But now he is a butterfly, he is the sunshine
and he is every new leaf on the trees.

He will look down from Heaven, with a smile
he knows and hears each and every good wish
but for each of us left behind, there is sadness
in our hearts, for Geoff it is you that we will miss.