What for you need a pen that writes black?
The man at the counter shot back
What has the blue done to offend you?

Look up the firmament
Over there the kingfisher
Once I had been to the sea
She was blue
Surely you prefer over black
A blue saree for her
So many men have staked their life
For the blue eyes of women

And then as if volleying the winning goal

Why not color all your wishes with blue
To paint the world blue-wish?

As I turned to walk away
My eyes caught the writing on his wall..

Black ink for the black heart
For the fool and the dull
Blue for the man of art
With matter in the skull

I had come to the wrong shop.

What cultivates the greatness of our homelands?
Tis not the land, the rocks, the earth, the sea,
The treaties writ for nobles by their own hands
Decrying common views as heresy.
Great Britain was still great long e'er the sun rose
Blessing the nets of Europe's wedding veil,
And when her arms extended to her old foes,
She stood alone, defiant, to prevail.
Tis in the heart, the will, the strength of mind
Of each proud lad and lass that calls her home
Wherein the Great of Britain seeks to find
The inspiration of her epitome.
        On her 'twas said the sun would never set,
        Let not her sons and daughters e'er forget.

Home – This warm familiar place
An ****** of every day to me
Where cooking smells and laughter dwell
The cat curled up on grey settee.
Noisy kids run in the hall
Sun beams hang in shafts of light
But dust motes in suspended drift
Reflect that something isn’t right.

Agitation twists her thought
He said he would…but didn’t then
Which led to heated, wounding words
That killed the mood and distanced them.
Home, where no one lies and cheats,
No one says those hurtful things
Unravelling the textured trust
Dispersing peaceful tranquilings.

No one storms into the night
With slamming doors and loud abuse,
Wracking sobs at kitchen sink
Unravelling to no good use.
Fearful, wide eyed, silent kids
Crept away to sanctuary
To furthest bedroom down the hall
Where silence helped the peace to be.

Home – that warm familiar place
That ****** of everything to me,
Where once, that ghost of happiness
Would dissipate from us to flee.

M.

So hard for me to try to be
The man I should, if only could
I pledge my hand to understand
That what I say is how I play
And what I do reflects in you
The truth, my friend, until the end
Shall be, eternally, shall be.

M.
May 1 2016

But wouldst thou child, defy thee time,
Wouldst thou cheat this man his way?
Wouldst thou rob his moments' flame
To purge thy loss... to dim his day?
Wouldst thou seek to wrong his right
To pacify the hurt you feel..
indemnify the magic spun
Within his message... you now steal?
M
16 June 2016

A transition so swift that
lifts me from one dream and
drops me
dopily
into wakefulness
which is another dream
unless
I'm mistaken.

If I'm taken alive
it'll be
name
rank and
serial number
until they torture me.

and then
I'll sing like a canary.

Years later
muffled like new snowfall
this ash
permeating teeth and skin.

Back then, I was still naive enough to trust
Old Jimmy when he offered to fly me
over the blast zone in his beat-up Cessna
the words Scenic Tours peeling off its purple tail.

His latent appetite would later manifest  
on the ride home in his musty Cadillac
the passenger door dented shut
preventing an easy exit.

That day
gray extended
as far as eyes could see
denuded trunks laid to rest
in perfect unison

we flew
for miles and miles
over nothing living

just ash
permeating teeth and skin
fallen matchsticks
and men.