How can it be that my heart aches for someone I’ve never met yet feel as if I’ve known forever.  
It’s as if our souls are attached through words typed and traveled all the way across the sea .
What is this, is it real, can it even be?
My friend lays in her bed only to await her journey to end.
As these thoughts race me to tears of the thought of her gone yet we have never even met
What is this, is it real, can it even be
A gut wrenching sadness that won’t go away, it’s as if I see her eyes I’ve never even seen and can feel her pain and her sadness as she lay in her bed to meet her fate,
What of such a force that is between us could allow this bond of two lives yet my eyes have never met her existence nor hers have met mine
What is this, is it real, can it even be,
Is this woman from across the sea my angel or am I to be hers, for we share so much likeness in our lives and things of our past and agree of things of this world most know nothing about,
Whatever it is or how it was meant to be I feel her in my heart and know she feels me
Whatever it may be it is more than real until we meet one day, I will always love you my friend across the sea.

in a damp room
    with red puddles.

she found what she wanted.

a big smile that never
appeared on her face.

happy wrinkles near her lips
and her round eyes are shrinking due to happiness.

she saw that all
with something bright
in front of her,

as her eyes slowly closed.

A baker on our street could not bake,
He could only fish in the nearby rivers and lake,
Mum bought his bakery,
He bought our old fish factory,
Both are happy for God's sake.
28/4/2019

I am cosmic limbo
words cannot express.
I am a lap dog drowning in a pool of cat's milk
wearing nothing but sun burns.
I cut the lines when Merry goes round
below the grief you cannot digest.
Anxiety has nightmares about me
it is rumored.
My tears fall on surfaces
and explode like snap & pops.
Mini ignitions in an instant,
turn to ash.
I am a bleak reposit in your memory bank.
Thirty years of wasted land.
There are no more homes for me.
Catch you up Ricky Baker

The complexity of notes
Chet Baker hits
a rainy morning downtown with
match the rise and fall
of rooftops,
the streams created by gutters

He traces the city's architecture
against the grey sky
with the wind from his trumpet-
there, outside a corner cafe on Hargett and Wilmington,
trumpet case open,
playing for passerby.

I take my morning coffee
studying Chet,
him putting notes in my head
through wired earphones,
Me writing them all down.

Aduring profane, Love,

Lite unto Thee,

Whose brightness details

Fathomless Heart,

Brilliance, dispelling

Bricks of illusion,

Walls of delusion,

A mind's cell,

Awakening One,

Adhering sacred, mundane,

Neither here nor there,

Am I?


reality