I once wrote a poem called
Words Never Said
And the words never said were
"I love you"

But there are other words
I should reveal,
The ones I will never say,
The ones I will not use,

God knows there are
Reasons aplenty why
I should,
Why some would say I ought,

The twists and turns of the knife,
The illogical argument,
The hand biting,
The rage from nowhere,

The blistering attack,
That storm from a cloudless sky,
Savage and unworthy
Stupid words

From a mouth become
Uncharacteristic in its harshness,
Aimed and timed and crafted
To cause hurt,

So many occasions
When no one would blame,
Not even the cause
Could blame me

Yet those words still
Hang unnoticed
Between us as the frenzy flies,
Just barely seen in the battle smoke,

Enough - I - quit

Fog is a ****** to fight,
You cannot punch it
Or choke it or
Throw it to the floor,
It's just there,
Damp,
Clammy and utterly inviolate

Like the inner workings of another's soul,
We can reach out but never grasp
Another's soul to our chest,
We can soar across
The wastes of space
Yet never quite reach them,

No matter how we try another's soul
Is theirs and once broken,
Perhaps no amount of love nor care can fill
The void created and
Never when that void is full
Of vinegar spite and
Ire

Dry ink in my head

I have no pen to write what must remain unsaid

caged words between my ears

imprisoned by frustrated tears of rage

that grow to fill a vast and empty page

I want to write
to set the literary sky alight
with words, bright birds
that take me with them in their flight
transcending earth to give me sights
and views I never saw before
but I can only watch them soar,
as with other earthbound things
I look up and wish for wings

The only thing left to say is
That there is nothing
Left to say, Not today at least
Not to you
Not to the partying crowd
Not to the angry moon
Or the wine glasses
Or the laughing hearts

There is nothing even to do
But wait for the twist of
Morning
Expect that by that time
Perhaps we have found
Something to say

Not just that
There is nothing I could say
Or do
Not too you at least
Not in October

But it is futile for morning
Too long a time
And by that time
All that could be said
Is that
All this time nothing has been said
These are now the rules of our relationship
Shall we start talking now?

You know how I talk in these October nights
No different from February mornings
Where air is good
Or April days
Where the sun is naughty
All the words are perhaps
But they cancel each other out
So?
Shall we start talking now?

When there is in front of us
A sordid mirror
My suit which is a farce
Your dress which is another farce
Drink in hand
Cigarette in another
Untalking. No talking. Detalking
(This is the tragedy of our own unsaying)
Remove, do not revitalize
The closing doors say (our bones say)
The movements of the mouth

In short we are tired
That there is so much to be said
And that there is nothing to be said
It is time for sleeping you say
Lull-laby-the-night-a-way
(and even here you gave up halfway)
To let our bones do the talking
(Or untalking)
It is a pregnant pause
A miscarriage
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing

Days trapped in dreams
Winters trapped in drought
Let the fog be the guise that distinguishes the light
I need you now, light as a feather
Now and forever
For the sun is just weather

Ice-pick finds my ear;
**** this unfettered silence.
I long for music...