Oh soul of mine to you I look
like the well-thumbed pages of a favourite book
yet you are nowhere to be found
sought your solace on higher ground

left me here so cold and forlorn
drifting in the breeze on this winter’s morn
caught in the tide as you ebb and flow
oh restless soul why did you go ?

think it vain that I wallow in pain
as you catch a ride on the falling rain
no quiet sanctuary for you to hide
oh soul in me forever abide.

Who are we to at folly jest
when folly is at our behest
seek we humour at anothers expense
whilst all the while we sit on a fence
grass being greener on some other side
now folly in us shall reside

shout at the TV
shout at the cat
shout at your wife
shout at the noise outside
shout at yourself in the mirror
shout at your life
shout it all to rights
three minute man
watch the door slam.

Languishing in a car called desire,
reclining into another lustful thought,
drink the poison and do it clean
for in such things are religions made
or a nation crumbled into to dust

I'm drifting up towards the stars,
no one can follow me there anymore,
and although you cannot hear me,
I am saying in my mind that I am sorry,
for all those times I wanted to reach for your hand,
to hold it in mine and not say a word,
to protect you from the world,
to cuddle away your tears,
to listen to your every word,
to tell you how beautiful you were
those things you never knew,
how you stole my breath as I watched you smile,
how I held your things in my hands
how I never told you how I felt
how I sometimes cried over memories,
how I touched and smelt your clothes,
In such things are the foundations of a dream,
thinking of all those things that should have been,
for the briefest of moments you will remember me,
for I will be the warm breeze that you feel,
awaking in you a distant thought,
perhaps in a passing smile,
as I drift through your soul.

Going home to the country side for
The weekend, where
The snow is twice as
Deep and prestine.

I've promised my girl we'll put
Winter clothes on and trek through
The woods; play children.
Lay flat on our backs

On soft whiteness between naked
Trees, just listening to
Winds like the ghosts of whales
Swimming the skies singing;

Calling to the echos of
Their echos' echos.
Then, red cheeked and sniffling,
Brush January from ourselves,

Stump snow from boots, and head
Inside for hot showers.
Her wet hair slowly drying
By an open fire. Wine, and either

Music or just the whispers of
Winter playing with the ancient
Wood in the walls between
Silences.

Candle light catching the white
Flashes of flakes falling outside
Ice cornered window glass
In complete, quiet darkness.

She calls it camping in the cabin.
To me, it will
Always be
*Home.

Love is like an olympic torch,
it burns continually,
is never extinguished,
kept for the briefest of moments,
then simply passed on,
person to person,
lifetime to lifetime,
generation to generation.

If we held an embrace under our favourite tree
would the moon kiss our eyes and make them see,
silver banners and sparkles in the mist
all of the darkness is turning sunkissed,
we'll dance our waltz under the crystal shards
amongst the ruins of our house of cards
twisting and twirling on the hands of time
as the bells on the clock start to chime,
peppermint tears over a turquoise sea,
promise you the world under our favorite tree.

We are the tin men
never the thin men
we walk in lines
within confines
never to weep
seek emortal sleep