Passed  a  neglected  garden  of  late.
It  seemed  in  quite  a ­­ sorry  state.
Some  men  came  to  make  some  notes.
But  seem­ed  to  give  it  little  thought.
Up  on  high  the  grasses  gr­ow.
Beneath  the  windows  row  by  row.
The  other  plants  just­ ­ cry  with  pain.
I  guess  we'll  never  grow  again.
They  ha­ve­  taken  up  our  space  on  the  ground
Like  an  advancing  ­army  I'll  be  bound.
They  are  taking  our  water  Oh  my.
As ­ they  journey  to  the  sky.
Perhaps  it  soon will  be  resolved.­
And  peace  will  reign.
Once again

Keith  Wilson    Windermere.  UK.  2016­.

Dear Abba,
    
      To spiritually photoshop, or not to spiritually photoshop: that is a recurring question. I’ve gotten pretty good at cropping and resizing to keep an impressive façade, but the emptiness behind it is the telling thing, telling me that something about the life I’m living is off the tracks. I’m not the biggest fan of mirrors but I realize they do serve a purpose: showing me the reality, the real me. I’m a ragamuffin, always have been, and yet You love me, the real me. Amazing.

The pain behind the eyes,
The hurt within the body,
The tears lost in the head,
The echoes whispers in the ear.

To see her doubled over in anguish,
To see him lose to his demons again,
To hope she'll one day be free,
To hope he'll win his next fight.

It's easy for people to hide their darkness,
Harder to be exposed to light,
It's hard to deal with depressed people like us,
Harder still to forgive ourselves.

Sometimes we hide in plain sight,
Sometimes we're the closest people to you,
Sometimes we are the "happiest" people,
Sometimes we're tomorrow's obituary.

So my plea to you is don't ever let us go,
So my plea to you is ask if we're really alright,
So my plea to you is don't execute the wounded,
So my plea to you is please don't let us leave us alone.

The waterlilies
Float above graceful Koi fish
White and cherry red
Amongst ripples cast through ponds
Of alternate dimensions

Whilst white sakura
Flow like the wind through long hair
Outside car windows
During the sunniest days
Of an endless rain season

Clouds glide across sky
Like those wet waterlilies
In search of lost time
Yearning for life in the warm
Recesses of all-being

You are the rain falling from the sky,
Serenading yourself off the shingled roof.
Though I have shelter, walls and a ceiling,
You trickle your way through the cracks.

An empty room gathers dust;
Snow collects in corners of windows;
And my resistance to you
Suffers from your irresistibility.

I'm just a girl
Lying on back road pavement
A girl with cold fingers
And pink hair.

Read my walls.

I stay up all night
Writing papers I hate and
I hold what hurts
Tight inside wooly blankets.

Read my walls.

I'm just a girl
A face in a shiny restaurant
An icon on your screen
A flannel-denim conversation.

Read my walls.

Read my walls, every crack around
The edge of the molding, the way the
Bumps cast their shadows, every chip in
The paint, every scratch, every letter.

Read my walls.

We all want love, we all
Want recognition and I'm not
Worth half of what anyone has
To give.

But please
Read my walls.

My heart weeps in harmony with your sighs.
Eyes wandering over the rain of disillusionment.
That is what we are left with, these cold tears.

Cold tears that freeze into poignant memories.
Years have flown by, some fast, some slow.
A long time of collecting sleeping lazy dreams.

Lazy dreams that filter through me as I sleep.
Crazy thoughts that go nowhere, do nothing.
Yesterday is lost, it is never to embrace us again.

Embrace us again, that sometimes arises within.
I slip into those types of thoughts, pleasing me.
But these are temporary visions, impossible now.

Impossible now, that is the reality we now are.
Tenderly we see one another, such a passion.
Your heart beats and it reaches out to my heart.

My heart weeps in harmony with your sighs.
Eyes wandering over the rain of disillusionment.
That is what we are left with, these cold tears.

Dreams are made of chocolate huts
With burgundy windows, cherry **** doors
Sweet icing on cream layered roofs
Almond -walnut -caramel floors

Dreams are made of iris and jasmine 
Jacarandas lined in purple rows
Tree blossoms in clustered cobs
Petals that dance like a ballerina's toes

Dreams are made of fern green forests
Oakwood trees  that cast a spell 
A  gossamer web of magic and charm
The music of clinking coins in a wishing well

Dreams are made of cerulean skies
Contrails of clouds in ivory snow
Violet mystic misty mountains
A  tangerine orb riding a rainbow

Dreams are made of romance laced nights
A golden peach vanilla moon
Venus lighting, igniting,love's fire
The silhouette  of love in rain soaked June

Dreams are made of turquoise seas
Calm waters stroked by gentle waves
Or enticed by the charm of a midsummer night
Waters that heavenly Cynthia craves

Dreams are made of silk and satin
Dappled with reds, greens and blues
But the dreams that I love to dream the most
Are all the dreams made of you