You,
the platform of merriment
moulded to the moment;
always the best seat in the house

I'm sorry
I’m trying to remember
My first thoughts of the day

Thoughts
That race around
My simple mind
In the uncertain hours of the morning
When I am held
Between sleep
And wakefulness

I lie in bed
Wishing I could return to sleep
To oblivion
Yet, in my dark imagination
Giant insects
Softly pull my rib cage open
To feed on my heart

When I was young
I was free
I did not worry
The way I do now
When I was young
I was free

Worry
Worry
Worry
Worry
Worry
Worry
Worry
Worry

I turn to the distractions of life
Things to do, things to do
Things that have to be done
In order to, in order to
In order to
What
In order to what?
To move?
To inspire myself?
To inspire others?

Something is happening to me

Perhaps, I am changing
As I listen to the
Strange thoughts
That visit me
In the dazed hours
Of the morning

And I let them go
Bid them farewell

I don’t know why
They come to haunt me

And so I let them come
And I lie
In my bed
With these strange new companions

Until I arise
And move

I don’t know why
I am the way I am

I don’t know the secrets
Buried in my subconscious

But slowly I am lifting
The lid
On who I am

Saw the man coming.
Bringer of warmth in a tatty old wagon.
Scruffy old horse with tangled once flowing mane,
Deteriorated into a matted mess.
Coal man's direction in perfection.
Old bay gelding standing patient at the road edge.
Waiting on the coal man to ducking into our yard.
Heard the cellar lid lifting,
He tipped the coal inside.
Asked him when I went to the gate.
Can I trot along for the ride.
Coal fella said "no time today".
Another day maybe.
Said "I'll see".
Never got to ride on top.
Times changed, bought coal from the shop
Many folk switched fuel to gas.
The coalman's assistant put out to grass.
It was the other day.
Sky shone brightly without warning.
A black shiny horse in funeral regalia.
Glass coach with a casket within.
Sign on the side easy to see.
Informed me that the coalman was free.
Driven away in a hearse,
By a friend.
Dependable horse.
Finale for he,
The coalman.
His end.
Reminded me of my childhood.
When life was peaceful and times were good.
"Tara coalman!"
(c)Livvi

You'll always be my heart beat

Hanging in the summer silence....
Nothing.
A tiny mouse of the sky passes by.
Snatching midges in full flight.
The presence of a late summer night.
Bonfire crackling.
The aura of brightness.
Dead wood redressed.
The fire dances.
A little like an evening witch.
Wearing melting nets.
Chunks of old wood.
No use anymore.
Burning to perfection.
Ashes.
Eyelashes of dead-end wood.
Heart of the evening.
All well.
It's good.
The fire dies.
The bat retreats.
See you again tiny chap.
Same time.
Same place.
Maybe next week.
(c)Livvi

Oh how beautiful
To see impermanence in us
Ourselves and others fall apart

Oh how suitable
To see thus changes in disgust
Lying uncomfortably in the heart

We dread and disgrace
Ourselves and society
Opposite of Bohemian Art