ripples of self doubt
fan out across still waters
contentment is gone

the very sound, enough to gauge
beyond the words that spell the rage
softly passing like a stream
or spitting out great lumps of steam
the meaning sometimes lost on me
but not the rising power inside
released at last by ebbing tides

and in this great cacophony
I hear my own strive to be free
from all the ones that share the same
telling details that you might blame
so let us listen to each other
with open minds and gentle hearts
while chasing this elusive art

alone together
inside
side by horizontal side
  meanwhile
  two streets away
  a barking dog
  suddenly looks up
  towards the sky
the whole world
quietens
  around our intimacy

I never see the stars
  above the city lights
I never hear the planets' roar
  above the hum of engines
I hardly see the seasons change
  beneath the city's shameless grind
the money
  changing hands
the chattering
  passing lips
the crying
  newborn babies
the city's hearses
  silently
driving the old, the young, but the dead -
  to be burned and scattered
I live here with all this savage beauty
  trodden into the streets
  washed out by the rain

I don't actually shrug
at least I don't think I do
I just feel the shrug
my shoulders relax a little
as I bury my disappointment
and my expectations
are gradually eroded

as I cease to connect

after a while
this shrug
this metaphysical shrug
has become part of
my armour
my insulation
it's not really cynicism
because I'm not expecting it
but it's there when I need it
do you understand?
perhaps not
shrugs

just here beside the damp lakeside
where spiralled ferns do grow
I saw a string of bubbles rise
from deep beneath the dark below

perhaps the grand old pike did pass
across the grey lake bed
disturbing all the other fish
with his jagged teeth and mottled head

the surface ripples died away
returning to opaque
the silver sunlight of the day
that tarnishes as night awakes

the air hung heavy with delight
as gnats swirled round in plumes
an owl swooped overhead, his flight
announced the start of night time's bloom

Your sadness
has made you hesitant.
Unsure of the how
or the why.
And now you sit,
reminiscing on your dreams;
the should-have-dones
or could-have-beens.
A playful love, a silent kiss -
the ones that never came to be,
the ones that you only you can see.
When you've fallen from a world
that's built on lies (or so you're told)
and when the falling has no net,
no friends to rally round, or set
you straight upon the winding path,
how do
you find
your way?